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0944c74e96cf4c86805a327bffcc9be0 | ['0ffe4a6cd00341bd9d7ab052dadf0b26'] | Take me back to the night we met
Part of her wishes that he never had touched her heart the way he did. Part of her wishes she had never even met him. But then again part of her just wishes they could start over. She loves everything about him from the way he laughs to the little curl that falls in front of his eyes when he’s concentrated. So much had gone wrong between them and she just wishes she could go back to the night they met, when everything was so innocent. Go back to being those little 7th graders on the volleyball field. The little 8th graders getting pets together. The night we met. Wouldn’t that be great.
Veronica walks through the door and hears her best friend crying in their room. She slowly walks up to the door and asks “B, are you okay? Can I come in?” She hears the anthem of Betty and Jughead’s love and her heart breaks for them. They had gone through so much and they deserved a happy ending. “Yes,” Betty sniffles, and so Veronica opens the door and walks over to hold Betty. “Tell me everything honey,” Veronica says. And so she does. She tells her how amazing he was tonight and how much she wished she could just enjoy it. She wishes he hadn’t scarred her for life with all the things he said and did. She wishes she could just have hot sex with the man she loves. “Oh B,” Veronica sighs. And she holds her for the rest of the night.
-
After Jughead runs out of the house he finally understands what went wrong. It was all too fast. They hadn’t even touched each other since they were torn apart by each other. Until now. And now he’s hurting like her. He sticks in his earbuds and listens to the same heart-wrenching song. “The Night We Met”
I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again
Take me back to the night we met
He sighs, trying to not cry. He thinks about all their amazing memories before everything went wrong. Being those adorable middle schoolers in love, with no cares in the world except for what kind of fish they would buy and what they would name it. Yes, they parented a fish. He smiles thinking about their little baby, Unripe Banana. He was green and yellow. It fit.
Then he thinks of the night they were about to make love but when they touched all he could think about was when he held her before the ambulance came to whisk her away after she took all those pills. He was heartbroken. He loved her so much but he couldn’t let himself get hurt by her again. It was too much. She was too broken.
He wants to start over, and they said they would start over. But was it possible? Could they be in love without tearing each other apart? | 7a191e6199b8485781dd0d96133f448e | ['0ffe4a6cd00341bd9d7ab052dadf0b26'] | Jughead wakes up in the morning, sore from the night at the bar. He looks guiltily over at his sleeping boyfriend and rolls out of bed, wincing as he stands up. He must’ve done something stupid last night. He walks over to the kitchen and pours a bull of cereal. He thinks of how he doesn’t enjoy making out with Archie anymore. He thinks of his dad, stuck in jail. He thinks of how he doesn’t have a job and is living off of Archie’s money. Then he thinks of Betty, and then he tries not to think of Betty, but then he thinks of Betty anyways. He thinks of how much he misses her blond hair and bright smile. He thinks of how he wishes he could wake up next to her instead of Archie. He thinks of how she’s far away and doing amazing things without him. He thinks about how stupid his life is. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’s dating Archie Andrews of all people. He was a last resort and he figured it was better than being alone. He’s not happy, not at all. He doesn’t have a father or a job. All he has is the serpents and his boyfriend that he doesn’t like. He pulls out a cigeratte and carefully lights it. He sighs and smokes for a few minutes before he hears his phone ding. He picks it up and groans as he sees Veronica’s name flash on the screen. They were never close and he wonders what she wants. He slides across the screen and sees the last thing he would’ve ever expected. Betty’s back in town, it’s time to make things right. Shit.
-
Betty wakes up peacefully, not remembering at first. Then it hits her. She’s in the same town as her ex that she’s still in love with who’s slowly falling apart. She doesn’t know what to do. She quickly calls up one of the only people that could help her in this situation. “Hey, Kev, um…” then she breaks into tears. “I..I ran into Jughead. I think I’m still in love with him.” Kevin sighs and finally says “God damn it. Like, love love? I thought you were over his ass. Your guys’ relationship was a mess.” She shakily responds “Kev, he’s falling apart. And I had no idea. He’s been sleeping around and trying to distract from missing me. I’m such a bad person, I just cut him out.” “No, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. You did what was best. But now that you know about everything, maybe reconnect with him? Maybe you can help him get back on his feet, if you’re as in love with him as you say you are.” Kevin replies. “I’ll try Kevin. Thanks for your help,” she says gratefully. He quickly says goodbye and they hang up.
Next step, talk to Jughead.
-
Fuck. Fuck. Betty’s in town. Jughead paces up and down the hall of Archies apartment cursing quietly. She must hate him, right? I mean she cut me out, blocked my number. He still doesn’t know why she hates him so much. He just wishes he knew what went wrong. Their relationship was shit but he didn’t want to lose her completely. He completely fell apart when she was gone. What would happen now that she was back. Would they talk? Would they be friends? He thinks of the possibilities as Archie walks through the door. “Hey babe” he says drowsily and walks over to give him a quick peck. “Hey Arch. I, um, I have to go. I’ll be back later,” he says quickly and then he’s out the door. He doesn’t know where he’s going but he has to do something. He texts Veronica. Does she want to see me? He waits impatiently for her response and when he hears the ding he almost falls over. I think so. And then the past few years of pain break out. He starts sobbing in the lobby of the apartment. Betty Cooper. How is he supposed to face Betty Cooper, the girl that broke his heart in two, the girl he was hopelessly in love with. The girl that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get over.
3. my world
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> what happens when they finally meet up. will he forgive her?
Betty lets down her hair from her signature ponytail and walks out the door. She texts V telling her that she’s going to make things right with Jughead, and heads to the car. She pulls out her phone and unblocks his number. She hesitates before she types out a simple I’m in town. Meet at Pop’s. She stares at her phone waiting for a response. Sure enough in a couple of minutes her phone dings and she gets a simple Sure from Jughead. She shuts her eyes tight and mentally prepares for what’s about to happen. She can’t just expect him to forgive her, right? I mean the breakup was mutual but she was the one who cut him out. The one who turned him into a smoking depressed guy that slept around. She just hopes that she can make him okay again.
-
When he gets that text from Betty he nearly shits himself. Fuck fuck fuck. What would they talk about. Would he forgive her? Of course he would forgive her. What would happen? Would she explain herself? He hops in his car as he thinks things over. He drives to the familiar restaurant, Pop’s and sits in the car for a little, trying to catch his breath.
Then he sees her.
Her hair is down and she’s wearing natural makeup. She looks absolutely gorgeous. She has an uncertain expression on her face that he wants to turn into a smile. He stumbles out of the car and awkwardly waves at her. She calmly walks over to him and gestures him inside. They take a seat at a booth and for a while they just stare. They think about everything that’s happened. The way everything has turned out.
Betty was the first to speak. “Hey,” she practically whispers. “Hey Betts,” he replies. He cringes at the use of the nickname. It just slipped out. When he said that, she started to really remember what being with Jughead was like. She remembered the times he would call her that when she was upset and he was comforting her. How she cuddled into him and could finally feel at peace, no matter how bad things were. It was such a little thing but it brought back so much that she could feel tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.
“Jug…I…,” she starts. “I miss you so much. You were everything to me. You were my moon, my sun, and my stars. My north south east and west. You gave me direction. You gave me purpose. You could light up my world like nobody else.” She sobs as she continues. “You were so there for me and when we were together it felt like nothing could get in the way because I was yours and you were mine. We were Betty and Jughead and damnit we were so perfect. I hate that word but there’s no other way to describe it. I love you Jughead. I have no idea why I’m saying this. It’s stupid and immature and there’s no way you would ever forgive me but I need you to know. I love you. I think I always will.”
Jughead doesn’t know where that came from but that doesn’t stop his face from lighting up in the first real smile in years. A tear drops down his cheek and he whispers, “How could you possibly think I wouldn’t forgive you. You really think I would give up on us. I spent every day for the last 4 years hoping and dreaming for you to come back to me. You were my home. You’ll always be my home. My safe place. My world.”
And then they kiss. And it’s perfect. |
570fe8743e5844b09fe84cfe5be0e971 | ['1042ec7b3c3743ee97ec7a7b39b880bf'] |
Oh Sid
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is for the 2018 Sid/Geno Exchange. I hope you like it!
>
>
>
> Thanks to my beta @galvelociratptor
\---
Sid fixed a smile on his face and waved to the reporters and crowd. He knew his team was out there in the mix and that made him feel a bit better. The new rink was open and dozens of kids were skating around under their parent’s careful eye. Sid was aching to go home. He hated being in the limelight even though he knew it was part of being the Crown Prince.
The Little Penguins organization was Sid’s international charity that provided gear and facilities for underprivileged youth who were interested in learning the sport. He loved the organization and gladly gave his time and money whenever he could, but today his parents had crossed a line. They had ignored Sid’s refusal to bring a date and arranged for a minor noble to be introduced alongside Sid in the opening ceremony.
“Your Highness, would you like something to eat?” Sid suppressed a sigh. At least Jamie Benn was nice. He didn’t deserve Sid’s frustration.
“I’m not hungry. Jamie, do you know that man?” A man was standing on the outskirts of the crown, looking unhappily at Jamie. Jamie snapped his head over and his mouth fell open.
“Yeah, uh. That’s Tyler, he’s. I didn’t know he’d be here.” Jamie trailed off as he started walking towards the man. Sid smiled as he watched Tyler’s body language soften and Jamie started talking. After a moment Tyler grabbed Jamie’s hand and started pulling him out of view.
Caught in his own thoughts, Sid didn’t see Flower approach until he spoke. “Sid, hey.” Sid smiled up at him, but something was off and Flower didn’t smile back. “Sid, I’m gonna head out. Vero and I have to take care of the kids.”
Sid nodded. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for coming.” As Flower turned away, Sid reached out to snag his elbow. “Have you seen Geno?”
An undecipherable look flashed across Flower’s face. “Uh, he left after the opening ceremony. Said he had stuff to do.”
Sid frowned. Usually Geno would hang out with Sid until it was time to let the staff clean up. “Oh. Ok. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” Flower slapped him on the back and left with his wife.
The prospect of staying for two more hours was daunting, and without Geno it wouldn’t be the same.
\---
Sidney sighed as he hung up his phone. He had felt his future start to narrow unpleasantly and he had panicked and lied to his parents.
Now he had to fix it and he only had four days. Pushing down the panic, Sid sent a text to Geno asking to meet up after practice. Geno responded with only the eyeless happy emojis he was so fond of. Sid felt a pang as he helplessly smiled, he and Geno were really good friends- maybe even best friends- and Sid had always wanted more. But this could ruin everything. So he did what he always was feeling overwhelmed by his parents’ expectations and his own terrible choices- he called his sister
“Squid!” Taylor shouted through the phone. Sid could hear loud music playing in the background. “My favorite bro!”
“Taylor, are you at a party?” Sid asked, successfully distracted. “It’s a school night.”
She let out a loud laugh. “Relax, I’m fine. Some girls on the hockey team invited me over.” The background noise faded away and Sid heard a door click shut. “So what’s up?”
“I talked with Mom and Dad,” Sid blurted out all at once. “They told me they want me to get married, and they’ve picked out someone for me to meet during the festival this weekend, since it didn’t work with Jamie at the Little Penguins thing.”
“Oh Sid,” Taylor sighed.
“I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to get married, but they wouldn’t listen to me.” He started pacing in his kitchen.
“Yeah, the only way they’ll stop nagging about that is if you started bringing someone to events.” Sid didn’t say anything and Taylor groaned.
“Sid what did you do?”
“I told them I was dating someone. I panicked!” He said defensively. “It’ll be ok though, I’m going to ask Geno to pretend to be my date. Do you think he’ll help me?” Taylor was quiet for a moment and sighed again.
“Oh Sid.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Sid was peeved.
“Why don’t you just ask Geno to date you for real?”
Sid went cold. “Taylor, he doesn’t like me like that.”
Taylor made an angry noise. “Sid you’re so blind sometimes. You should at least try.”
It was Sid’s turn to sigh. “Taylor, just drop it.” He checked his watch. “I gotta go to practice, I’ll talk to you later.” He could tell Taylor wasn’t done but he was thankful she let it drop.
\----
Several hours later Sid sped out of the Consol parking lot and to the coffee shop where he and Geno hung out after practice. It was small and located sort of perfectly between their houses and the rink. The owners were good people and respected Sid’s privacy. Sid smiled at the barista and ordered their usual drinks. He was too jittery to engage in small talk so he just shuffled to the table in the back corner, the table he had begun to think of as his and Geno’s.
Sid hadn’t been sitting long, which was probably for the best, when Geno plopped into the seat across from him, a huge smile on his face.
“Sid, so happy to see.” Sid smiled through his nerves and pushed over the coffee he had ordered for Geno. | c228eb9f35b240798fc2a69e48b3584b | ['1042ec7b3c3743ee97ec7a7b39b880bf'] |
Standing in line
**Author's Note:**
> based on the prompt: waiting behind you in line but ‘excuse you me did i just hear you talking shit about my favourite superhero there SON’
\-----
The thing is Derek doesn’t even care that much about superheroes. Ok, fine. Like everyone else in the world, he’s seen the Marvel franchise movies, and the Nolan Batman movies. And ok. They were fun, and cool, and he enjoyed them and he liked taking his nephew to see them. But he’s been working on his PhD in music theory and writing a symphony for the past four years, and before that he was dealing with his psycho ex and repairing his relationship with his family. There hasn’t been a lot of extra time in his life for developing a fanboy appreciation for much of anything.
Laura had been the one who loved comic books when they were kids, but Derek’s true love has always been music, first and foremost.
So when Laura drags him out of his house, ostensibly for some fresh air, after five solid days of working on his dissertation and composing, the outside world is making him feel a bit raw and comic book heroes are the absolutely last thing on his mind. He has two days left to finalize everything before submitting it to the committee, but Laura has never taken no as an answer and she wants to go shopping again for the baby who is seriously about to pop.
Laura takes him to a coffee shop first, because she isn’t stupid, and Derek spends a few minutes letting the smell of coffee wash over him, just standing with his eyes closed and trying not to think about the color pink and trying to drown out the wailing of the ridiculous pop song playing in the background. It’s not until a few minutes later that Derek realizes Laura has been talking to him this whole time.
“I just don’t get it!” Laura’s frustrated and Derek tries to get his brain back online.
“Don’t get what?” She glares at him.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Derek shrugs and Laura huffs a dramatic sigh. The line moves up a step. What is taking so long? Derek looks to the counter- training day. He tamps down on a long-suffering sigh.
“I’m talking about female representation in superhero movies, Derek! God, pay attention. Like, why can’t they make a Black Widow movie, for fuck’s sake?”
Derek shrugs again and says the first thing that pops to mind. God he is so tired. “Maybe there’s not a lot of interest?” Laura glares daggers at him and there’s an outraged noise from behind them. It’s a pale, lanky guy ( _gorgeous lips, sex hair, adorable nose_ , Derek’s brain catalogs) wearing plaid and thick glasses who seems embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping. Derek turns back to Laura. “I don’t know? Tell them to stop making stupid Spiderman movies and make a girl movie.” A louder outraged squawk. Derek doesn’t turn around this time. “Fuck, Laura, you know I don’t care about this crap.” He massages his temples where a headache is forming.
Laura’s glare doesn’t let up, but her lip starts to wobble. Shit. “You should care about it! I’m so mad at you, you never think about anything but you!” She smacks him in the chest with her purse and stalks away. Waddles away, Derek thinks meanly. Derek can feel all the eyes in the coffee shop turn to him.
“Laura!” He calls after her, torn between losing his place in this long-ass line and going after her. “Goddamnit.” He sees the bathroom door slam shut.
“Dude.” Pale guy is coldly disapproving. “You just really pissed off your girlfriend. That was a really shitty thing to say.”
Derek snarls. “It’s none of your fucking business.”
“Dude,” Pale guy purses his lips and raises a judging eyebrow.
“Don’t call me dude,” Derek grunts. The barista is having to show the floppy-haired new guy how to foam milk. He drops the cup. Fuck. Derek's headache throbs.
“She’s right though,” Pale guy is not letting this go. “There should be female superhero movies, seriously. And you shouldn’t discount her opinion, asshole.”
“I’m not discounting her opinion! I know girls are underrepresented and discriminated against and women are objectified in movies!” Derek’s had enough. He just wants coffee and to go home. Fuck Laura for making him leave his house. “I took her son to a 'Take back the night' rally two years ago when she couldn't be assed to go because she was watching Super Nanny! She’s pregnant and hormonal and picks causes just to yell at me about them! Last week she called and lectured me for three hours about male circumcision! Three fucking hours! It’s not like I can do anything about it, it’s not like they can reattach my foreskin at this point!”
Pale guy’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide. Derek realizes he was shouting when he looks around and the coffee shop is dead silent. Fuck.
Laura comes back from the bathroom, eyes puffy from crying. She dabs at them with crumpled toilet paper, not noticing the awkward tension. “God, Derek. I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I know you’re busy with your dissertation, and working on the lullaby.” She rubs her about-to-pop baby bump. “I’m just so sad, what if she never gets to see a movie about Black Widow?” Laura starts sniffing again and Derek’s frustration wanes.
“Laura,” Derek says uncomfortably. He hates this. “You didn’t have a strong female superhero on tv growing up and you’re the strongest person I know. She’ll have you as a role model, just like Trever does.” Laura bursts into tears and hugs Derek awkwardly around the baby bump. He pats her head. “Besides, they’re bound to make one eventually.” |
1645366ad3dd4753923f17e6c5f65212 | ['10652c80188749418fdfef134b7f89af'] | So if you look out your window
You’ll see me falling past!
I’m sure something will work out
And if not, sure I’ll end up in a cast
But if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who ground me
Take a message back from me!
Tell them how I am defying gravity
I'm flying high, defying gravity
And soon I'll match them in renown
I’ll keep doing it all, just coz
No handler that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!!
COULSON
I hope you're happy
AGENTS
Look at him
He's falling
Catch him!!
CLINT
Bring me down!
AGENTS
He just keeps on jumping
And it’s going to bring him -
CLINT
Ahhhh!
AGENTS
-Down!
12. It's Hopeless
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I do apologise for how late this is, but I promise I will finish this! You can probably guess when this all takes place.
AGENTS
Ev'ry day, more wicked!
Ev'ry day, the terror grows!
All of Shield is ever on alert!
That's the way with Widow -
Spreading fear where e'er she goes
Seeking out new victims she can hurt!
A MEMBER OF HYDRA
Like some terrible great spider
Which makes us all the flies:
RUMLOW
Confusing our poor Captain
With her calumnies and lies!
AGENTS
She lies!
Let us find the Widow!
Someone help us we’re perplexed!
Give us warning:
Where will they strike next?
Where will they strike next?
Where will they strike next?
HILL
(spoken) Fellow Agents - as terrifying as terror is, let us put
aside our panic for this one day: and concentrate!
(sung) Oh how much concentration
We need today
AGENTS
It’s hopeless!
HILL
Let's use our concentration
The Fury way!
AGENTS
It’s hopeless!
PIERCE
Fin'lly a day that's
Totally Black Widow free!
AGENTS
We couldn't be jumpier
It’s hopeless!
HILL
Yes -
I couldn't be stealthier,
Yes, me!
Couldn't be stealthier
And see
Look what we've got
A new HYDRA plot
Inside our own Shield building
Where I couldn't be stealthier-
Fury
Couldn't be stealthier
He’s not happy to share
His superb recovery
With all of you
He couldn't be trickier
I couldn't feel certainer
We couldn't be stealthier
Because stealthy is what you need
When all your fears come true!
PIERCE
(spoken)
Well Hill dear, we're happy for you! As Shield’s
Leader I have striven to ensure that all of them
know the story of your promotion:
(sung)
That day when you were summoned
To an audience with Fury
And although he would not tell you why initially
When he saw the promise you’d shown
He decreed you'd hence be known
Deputy Director - officially!
Then with a jealous squeal
The Black Widow burst from concealment
Where she had been lurking -surreptitiously
AGENTS
I hear she never shuts her eyes
And always remains awake
I hear that she will always know
Exactly what moves you’ll make!
I hear some rebel ex-soldier
Is giving them food and shelter!
I hear she escapes every jail
And so we must kill her!
AGENT CARTER
What!?
AGENTS
Kill her!
Please - somebody go and kill her!
AGENT CARTER
(spoken) Do you hear that – they’re going to kill her! People
are so empty-headed, they'll believe anything!
HILL
(spoken) Carter! Oh - yes, thanks plenty, Agent! She's gone to
carry out her consignment. She's so well behaved that way!
(sung)
That's why I have to be stealthier
Yes, I have to be stealthier
Though it is, I admit
The tiniest bit
Unlike I anticipated
But I couldn't be stealthier
Simply couldn't be stealthier
(spoken) Well - not "simply":
(sung) 'Cause not being seen
It's hard, and it’s been
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of cost
There's a couple of things get lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that fails, they’ll kill
Which I admit gives me a chill
Still -
With this perfect disguising
And excellent training, who
Who
Wouldn't be stealthier?
So I couldn't be stealthier
Because stealthy is what you need
When all your fears come true
Well, isn't it?
Stealthy is what you need
When your fears come true!
AGENTS
We love our Captain, but he is not the same
HILL
It’s hopeless!
AGENTS
For all this fear, we know who we've got to blame
It’s hopeless!
Because the Captain, Widow
HILL
And protégée!
AGENTS
They couldn't be deadlier
She couldn't be creepier
We couldn’t be jumpier
HILL
I couldn’t be stealthier
AGENTS
It’s hopeless
HILL AND AGENTS
Today!
So hopeless all today!
13. Wonderful
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is post CATWS
STEVE
I never asked for this
Or planned it in advance
I just wanted to help out
And maybe have a dance
I never saw myself
As any hero or Superman
I knew who I was
One of your dime a dozen,
A common man
Then suddenly I'm here
Respected - worshipped, even
Just because the folks back home
Needed someone to believe in
Does it surprise you?
I got hooked, and all too soon
What can I say?
I entered the fray
And beat up HYDRA goons.
Wonderful
They called me "Wonderful"
So I said "Wonderful" - if you insist
I will be "Wonderful"
And they said "Wonderful"
Believe me, it's hard to resist
'Cause it feels wonderful
They think I'm wonderful
Hey, look who's wonderful -
This Brooklyn kid
Who said: "I’ll use a shield
To make my enemies yield”
But crash into the ice is what I did.
(spoken)
See - I never had much family of my own. So, I
guess I just wanted to give the citizens of Earth everything.
WINTER SOLDIER!BUCKY
(spoken)
So you lied to them.
STEVE
(spoken)
Dear Bucky, where we’re from, we believe all sorts of
things that aren't true. We call it - "history."
(sung)
Iron man’s called crazy - or regularly
Genius, billionaire philanthropist | 0290d981903d4d2eb313318c09d285b2 | ['10652c80188749418fdfef134b7f89af'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I am so sorry this is so late, but I hope you all enjoy it!
Mark Watney woke up with sun on his face, sand under his back and waves crashing onto his legs. He promptly turned to his side and threw up copious amounts of sea water.
“Fuck,” he said.
It had been a routine training exercise. Wasn’t that always the way? They never seemed to go any way but disastrous. If someone suggests a routine training exercise, run like hell in the other direction.
The point of the exercise was water survival. Drowning was the number one cause of death for jaeger pilots. Something NASA reminded them every time they got into the ocean.
The exercise, aka, make six pilots swim in a faintly radioactive ocean was called off when a cyclone had hit much faster than expected. While they packed up and made for land Mark had been blown overboard. The crew had looked for him as long as they could before the cyclone forced them back to Fiji. It was six days before they could start to look again.
The PPDC started a search effort, but three weeks later a category four Kaiju made landfall at Cape York. With increasingly reduced resources they had no choice but to stop the search. Mark Watney was presumed dead, and went down as another pilot lost to the Pacific Ocean.
The cyclone had swept Mark a long way from the boat and he had landed on an island. It was tiny, barely above the surface of the water. A few square hundred metres of sand was all that allowed it to be called anything more than a seamount. There was barely any vegetation, just a bit of grass, Mark, some junk that had washed up with him, and a very angry looking seagull.
As he threw up what seemed to be most of the ocean, he reflected that for the second time, he’d been lost by his team mates.
-
It was Vogel’s birthday and they were given 24 hours leave in Seattle. They decided to treat him to a massive bar crawl. It had been that sort of year. Five hours in, they lost Mark and left him sleeping under a table.
When the bar staff dragged him out at 4am, they asked him who to call.
“Ghostbusters,” said Mark promptly. They tried again. For some reason they didn’t believe him when he spouted off the names of the PPDC and NASA command, with a few famous jaeger pilots thrown in for good measure. When he passed out a second time, they gave up and checked his wallet. Upon finding a PPDC card, the barman was at a loss and called the only PPDC number he knew. The emergency hotline.
“You’re through to the Seattle Kaiju Emergency Line,” said a woman. “Please state your emergency.”
“Hi,” he said. “I’ve got an unconscious drunk guy here who seems to work for you? I didn’t know what else to do with him.”
“Um,” said the woman on the phone. “Please hold.” She was back a moment later. “Ok, I don’t know what to do with him either, but my shift ends in twenty minutes. I could come and get him. Where are you anyway?”
“The Mars Bar,” he told her.
“Oh, I know it,” she said. “I’ll be there in an hour or less.”
45 minutes later a woman in a small car arrived outside the Mars Bar.
“Hi,” she said. “My name’s Mindy, I’m guessing you’re waiting for me to collect this guy?”
The barman helped her get Watney into the front seat of her car, handed her Mark’s wallet and left. Mindy looked at his drivers license and called security.
“Hi, Mindy Park from the emergency team. I need the most important on call number you have.”
Venkat Kapoor had not been pleased to be woken at five in the morning because Mark Watney was drunk. They were all given cards with “If found please return to Mitch Henderson” and a contact number, just in case it happened again.
-
Sadly for Mark, he didn’t have the card with him, and even if he did, he didn’t have a phone. He didn’t even have the traditional coconut tree to set on fire.
His first concern was shade. With the dehydration he was currently suffering, he needed to avoid losing more water.
When he felt he could move, he stood. Falling back to the ground, he realised that this was possibly over ambitious. Also he appeared to have broken his ankle.
Crawling over to the junk along the tide line, Mark inspected what he could use. There really wasn’t much. But there was some drift wood, plastic bags, broken coral and a large, mostly flat piece of corrugated iron. He figured someone had lost their roof in the storm.
Mark took off his outer drive suit, under-shirt, and boots. He used a nearby piece of coral to rip a long piece off the shirt. He then tied a branch of the driftwood to his ankle as a splint and put on his new, stylish crop top. Mark thought about balancing the metal sheet on some sticks to make a shelter and thought better off it. The last thing he needed was a concussion. Instead he simply stuck it at a right angle to the sand, burying the base as best he could. He crawled into the shade on one side and fell back to sleep.
He woke the second time to the best view of the milky way he had ever seen in his entire life. There was something to be said for being stuck in the middle of nowhere. He was hungry, and thirsty. Both his ankle and his head throbbed, and his skin was warm even though the night was now cool. Mark figured he’d look like a lobster in the morning. |
2f52bd0b3f674aba8a348b0a1e5b8542 | ['10678e91eaec47828916aec9431b3c00'] | “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Yes, you called. Five times. Or something like that. Well, guess what, Hamilton, I called, too, like ten times a day. So you can go and shove those five calls right up your ass, you prick.” He punctuated his words by shoving his index finger into Alex’ chest harshly, and then he was turning on his heel abruptly. And walking away.
Before Alex knew what he was doing, he had picked up his backpack and was running after him, trying to catch up with his long, vigorous steps. “John, please, I just want to talk,” he said urgently, trying to put on his backpack and hold his nose at the same time. John didn’t even look back at him. He was way better at making his way through the crowd than Alex, and Alex felt himself panicking slightly. _Don’t you fucking lose him now. Don’t you lose sight of him here.
_ He tried to get a grip of John’s arm, scrabbling for purchase on his sleeve, but John wrenched out of his grasp, practically hissing at him. “Don’t you _fucking_ touch me, Alexander,” he gritted out. Alex flinched, but reached for his sleeve again, his time managing to pull him to a halt. John turned around, glaring, and Alex swallowed, gripping his sleeve tighter when he tried to get away.
“John, please.” He breathed.
“Let me go, Hamilton.” John’s voice was cool and quivering just slightly; Alex kind of had the feeling he was going to punch him again. “No.” he replied firmly, clinging on to him. “I’m not letting you go, Laurens, not again. I’m not leaving until we’ve talked.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Alex. You can’t force me to talk to you. Leave me alone, and stop following me.” John bit; he was obviously having a hard time controlling his temper, but Alex didn’t care.
“If you want to hit me, John, go ahead. Hit me. Punch me, come on, I deserve it, do it, break my nose, for all I care – although I don’t quite get your sudden change of mind, I mean, you hugged me, isn’t that kind of a clear sign that you’re happy to see me? – but I _have_ to talk to you. Right now.” John gritted his teeth. He stepped closer, towering over Alex, and looking down at him.
“Maybe, Alex, my sudden change of mind is caused by me finally realizing that maybe, _just maybe_ , I don’t really want to talk to you. Maybe it’s better if you leave me alone right now.” He paused, and his bitter voice was dripping with sarcasm when he continued. “I guess we’ll see each other around anyway, but until then- don’t forget to _write_.”
Alex flinched. “That’s not fair.” He whispered. John tried to wrench out of his grasp once more. “Go cry somewhere else, okay?”
Alex lowered his eyes to their feet; he looked at John’s oversized Doc Martens. _This is all coming apart. He’s not going to let me stay. There’s no forgiveness here; what did I think?_ He pulled the lump out of his throat with his teeth.
“I’m begging you,” he breathed.
John let out a tired scoff. “Do you honestly think that after two months, _two months_ …” his voice arched upwards towards the end of his sentence, and he left off choking on a gasp, covering his eyes with his free hand.
“Please. _Leave_.”
John’s voice was broken when he lifted it again, obviously straining against weeks and months and _so many nights_ spent all by himself wishing Alex _hadn’t_ left. And now he was specifically _asking him to leave_ ; in another life, Alex would have laughed at the absurdity of it.
But Alex wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to leave now. _Hell_ no, he wasn’t going to give up so easily, he was _Alexander fucking Hamilton_ , and his father had left, his mother had died, he’d grown up buck-wild, but he was never one to give up.
“I have left you once already. I’m not ever making that mistake again,” he muttered. John let out a harsh breath; Alex stared at his whitened knuckles clenching around his sleeve and tried to ignore the pulsing pain in his jaw.
“Well, then, fucking _think_ before you leave the goddamn state just because of an argument as pathetic and tiny and unnecessary as we had! Fucking _think_ before you ignore the hundreds of calls and literal thousands of texts I left you, fucking _think_ before you stay gone for _two goddamn months_ , without a message, without any kind of clue as to if you were even still alive, _Christ_ , Alex! We were together, couples get into arguments, but if you _really loved me_ , you would have at least tried to explain properly why you didn’t want to open up, and we could have taken a break, and it would have saved me, and also you, a _goddamn_ _shit ton_ _of pain_!” He ran his hand through his hair; strands had come loose from it and were falling into the rosiness of his cheeks, and Alex wanted so badly to brush them behind his ear, biting back the urge to tell John again that he _had_ called, and that John just _hadn’t picked up_. Instead, he didn’t say anything, causing John to sigh again, straining against his grasp once more.
“Look, Alex, just- I don’t want to talk to you right now. I really don’t need to do this to myself, so please- this one time… just- just _leave. Please_.“ he said softly and coolly, a tone that reminded Alex very suddenly of Burr, _oh, shit, Burr, oh no, is it weird that I missed him, too? B_ ut when he looked up to meet John’s eyes, there was something else in them. | 5e3074318bec4d4c826b0ae70a6b318f | ['10678e91eaec47828916aec9431b3c00'] | But should he say all this to Rachel? Maybe he should take the opportunity of someone offering him to talk about it, offering their help like no one except Alex had ever done; maybe he should talk about it, get it off his mind, finally say it out loud to acknowledge the damage his father had done to his self-esteem, his personality and his ability to be himself, but if he really thought about it, the person he wanted to tell all of this wasn’t Rachel. It was also not his father himself, whose narrow mind would never be able to understand the things he had done and would never care about the things he had done; he would be left in the presumption that what he’d done was right, was a justified and tolerable parenting method, and John was, honestly, too scared of changing anything about it.
No. The person he wanted to tell about this was Alex. Of course, always Alex, because he wanted Alex to know him properly, every inch and thought of his body and mind, and this, this was a part of him. Alex would understand, like Alex always did, because he was smart and kind and lived with his heart open to those who were willing to inhabit it, and he loved John, deeply and dearly, and John was certain it was only fair that he got to see every part of him, even the darker parts, even if John sometimes had the feeling the dark parts were too shameful to let them into daylight.
“Um, Rachel?” he croaked after a while of them walking, and she lifted her head, smiling up at him attentively.
“I don’t think I want to talk about it just yet. But thank you for offering your help, I really appreciate it.” He managed, and she smiled wider. “Okay, that’s absolutely fine. But, let me just tell you, John…” Her smile left her features and John suddenly noticed the bags beneath her eyes. How tired she looked, like she hadn’t slept in a week; weak, awake, and incredibly exhausted. She let go of his arm and stopped walking in the shallows. John came to a halt a few feet beside her and watched her with big eyes. She wasn’t looking at him, staring at the horizon instead, and he suddenly sensed the moment as incredibly melancholic, the sort of thing that made him want to cry. Rachel took a deep breath, her flat chest heaving, and then spoke.
“John- the past doesn’t define us. You don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But do not, I’m begging you, do not hold on to grudges and pain for too long. If something bad happens, and I mean, _really_ bad, let it get to you, open your heart and scream into the abyss and let the pain consume you. But not for years of your life. Cry for a few days… cry for as long as you need to, but get up again. Believe me, I’m no good example for letting go of things, my mother died when I was your age and I still plan birthday cards for her every year until I realize that she’s dead. I have a husband whom I haven’t seen in years and years, and I miss him every day. But look at me. Do I look happy to you?” She turned to face him, her features serious and unapologetic, and he hesitated for a moment, listening to gulls crying and the waves crashing and then shook his head briefly. Rachel sighed.
“Alex thinks I’m _so_ strong, but the truth is, I’m not. I’m just tired. I’m tired of being ill, I’m tired of pretending I’m not to make sure Alex is okay. I’m tired of missing James, and I’m tired of needing help from others, but most of all, I’m tired of remembering I’ve never been enough. For my absent father, for my dead mother, for my sons, one of whom I haven’t seen in about a year. I cling on to things, mistakes I made, mistakes others made, and I dwell for long times on why I didn’t do better. I overthink. And I don’t… _let go_.” Rachel looked at him again, her face a mask of desperation and sadness as she attempted to smile at him with her lower lip quivering slightly. John opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.
“So _listen_ to me, John Laurens. You can always overcome troubles, you can always invent yourself new. You had a bad childhood, that’s horrible, and I’m so, so, _so_ sorry that someone stole those years away from you. But- you’re young. You have all the time you need, so- don’t end up like me, John. Let go. Don’t be a prisoner of your old self.” She looked away when she had finished her sentence and gasped wetly into the sleeve of her cardigan.
John stood in the shallows with his shoulders weak and his heart beating quickly in his chest and watched Rachel wipe at her eyes furtively, unable to move as she hiccupped into her wrist.
“I- I’m sorry.” He breathed after a while, unsure what else to say.
Rachel looked back at him, eyed his lost expression with her puffy, red-rimmed brown eyes for a second and then smiled softly.
“Don’t ever apologize for turning me into an inspirational guru, John Laurens. It’s a rare thing. Usually, only Alex can do it; I think I’m a bit sensitive today.” She murmured, and he gave a weak laugh, stepping closer to her and hesitating for a second until she pulled him in and hugged him. |
a6315e6993444bf2a5926a7309fa530c | ['108ab633eece491cbc0e4a383f51f134'] | Lance’s voice had cracked on the last word, and he’d stormed away. They hadn’t talked since, mostly because Keith spent four days beating the crap out of the Guardian robot. Those words hurt him more than they should have, and his guilt ate him up more than it should have. And when he and Lance had to be together, Keith always sat farthest away from him, making him angry, and they’d had another fight yesterday, in the dining room, in front of everyone.
_“What, you’re angry? What right do you have?”_
_“No, Lance, that’s not it…”_
_“Uh-huh. Right. Look, I know you hate me and think I’m dead weight…”_
_“What?”_
_“I’m a terrible pilot, you’ve said it a million times.”_
_“No!”_
_“Shut up! I know you don’t like me, but I’m the one that almost died from your mistake. So please show some common decency and apologize!”_
_“Lance, I just felt guilty and…”_
_“Nope, no, I’m not listening to your stupid excuses. Just say sorry!”_
_“But…”_
_“Nope! Bye! Goodbye! I’m leaving!”_
_“Lance!”_
Lance had stormed out, and he’d turned, and looked at the other paladins, all disappointed.
_“I really don’t hate him.”_
Shiro nodded, and smiled tightly, _“We know.”_
For the rest of the day, Keith tried to come up with a good apology. He’d agonized over it. Eventually, he realized that he needed help. He’d talked to Hunk and somehow told him his biggest secret: he had a crush on Lance. Hunk was surprised, but got over it quickly. He told Keith that he should just let Lance cool down a bit, and maybe stop avoiding him.
_“I hate this! I hate being in love. Everything he does means so much to me, and I’m always feeling for him. I hate that he has so much control.”_
_“Yeah, love can be frustrating like that.”_
_“It’ll also never happen, and if it does, and we break up, it could tear Voltron apart. It’s not logical! Why can’t it be logical?”_
Hunk had shrugged, _“I dunno, but I think we’d be ok. And isn’t this hge secret you’re trying to hide also tearing Voltron apart?”_
It is. Keith hasn’t been focussing as well, and his crush on Lance isn’t helping their unstedy relationship at all. Hunk says the solution is to tell Lance, but Keith knows that he has to get over this dumb little crush as fast as possble.
Lance is kicking up the pink-orange sand, hands around the waist of a particularly pretty Seshian. They’re laughing and swaying in synch. Keith’s gut twists uncomfortably, and he can’t watch any longer.
——————
Lance looks up, over to where Keith was standing. He’s not there. Lance spins Airia, the girl he’s dancing with, and scans the beach. He can see Keith’s figure bathed in pink light, moving steadily farther away. Lance wants to run after him, but instead turns away and finishes his dance. Keith and his lack of respect can just go.
The song ends, and he leaves Airia to get a drink. He can see Keith sitting far down the beach, almost in the ocean. He looks to the bartender, and botches the pronunciaton on his order, but gets what he wants anyway.
The next song comes on, and Airia waits for a little, but Lance isn’t in the mood, so she moves on, just like that. He can’t stop thinking about Keith, and how lonely he looks, just sitting on the beach. He looks around, and sees that Pidge and Hunk are playing with several Seshian children, and Shiro and Allura are deep in conversation. Coran went off into the woods with a guide to see the scenery.
Lance looks at Keith. He hasn’t liked staying away from him, honestly. And pretending that another Seshian girl is him isn’t working.
Maybe he should be the bigger man and listen to what Keith has to say. Maybe not listening to him yesterday was a mistake.
He puts his drink on a nearby table, and starts walking. He makes his feet fall softly on the sand. He has no idea what he’s going to say, and every step closer seems like a bad decision. But when has he let that stop him? And when he looks at Keith, huddled up, looking out on the ocean, Lance wonders why he’s afraid.
Keith’s gorgeous, Lance knows. Prettier than anyone. Keith’s deadly, and fast. He can knock a full-grown Galra soldier out with one hit. He’s mysterious. Lance has no idea what happened to him before the Garrison. But right now, he’s human. He makes mistakes. And maybe Lance’ll get his apology, if he just listens. Maybe Lance can fix his mistakes, too.
Lance comes closer, moving so he can see more of Keith’s face. Mistake. His face is more open than Lance has ever seen it, and Lance stops in his tracks.
Keith’s lips are pulled down into a gentle frown, his eyes are hopeless and hopelessly beautiful in the sunlight. His back curves gently, and his muscular arms are wrapped around his ankles, his chin rests on his knee caps.
He’s vulnerable. Lance’s breath catches in this throat, and he’s afraid that if he makes a sound, Keith’ll know he’s there, and close up.
Lance wonders if leaving is a good idea.
Something trills behind him, and a shadow flits over him. Keith looks. Stupid alien bird-thing!
“Hi!” Lance says, his smile like glass, easily shattered.
Keith’s eyes go wide, and his mouth opens with a pop! Lance tries not to find this attractive. (He fails, because with the ocean’s reflection playing on Keith’s face, with Keith’s lips wide open, with Keith’s eyes anime-round, it’s easily the most gorgeous thing Lance has seen.) Lance drops down, next to Keith, who looks back out to the ocean. Lance holds his breath.
“Lance?”
“Yeah?”
“I… I’m sorry,” Keith has his eyes closed, and Lance notices that one of his long eyelashes has fallen off. | 4a3cd9741a364752b742d1dc222cfe03 | ['108ab633eece491cbc0e4a383f51f134'] |
1. An Apology and a Thank-you
Lance groaned. The violin wailed, sounding like a screeching cat. Why did he have the room closest to the alley between him and his neighbor’s house? Why did the stupid new kid have to live there? Why did he have to practice violin in his backyard?
“ _ At least he sucks at something…” _ Lance glared at his window, thinking of how the stupid new kid with his stupid fingerless gloves could do everything he couldn’t and more. Lance turned back to his _ Sailor Moon _ manga, when another long wail drifted through his walls. Lance groaned. It would be nice if Keith sucked at something that didn’t ruin Lance’s reading.
The violin kept on squealing, sharp and painful and almost to the tune of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”. Mid-note the song stopped, and then… the terrifying opening notes. Again.
Lance groaned, and closed his manga.
Then he thought of how Nyma, the gorgeous 8th-grader who had smiled at Keith. He thought about how Keith drooped in his seat in science, eyes lidded, doodling, and yet answered every question correctly. Lance remembered how every time the teacher praised him, Keith smiled a little.
_ “Smug bastard…” _ Lance thought, feeling edgy for thinking such a bad word, _ “I’m going to teach him a lesson.” _
Lance swaggered over to where his trumpet lay in it’s case. He pulled to out, opened the window, and started to play. From memory, of course. The notes rang loud and clear and bright, without mistake. The violin music stopped.
Then, there was a clear note from the violin, but soon it halted to a screeching stop. There was a pause, and the first three notes came, slightly garbled. Lance huffed. Leave it to the new kid to improve so quickly. No matter, Lance was still obviously better.
The violin ploughed on, and Lance listened, frowning as the notes became clearer and clearer.
“ _ Still sucky, though,” _ Lance looked away. Once the song was through, he picked up his trumpet and grinned evilly.
He’d been practicing ‘Blackbird’ for his Dad, and readied his sheet music. The music flowed clearly from his trumpet, and even though Lance didn’t hit all the notes correctly, it was much better than anything Keith could do.
There was a long pause before the beginning of ‘Old McDonald’ tripped through the air. Lance snickered. Keith really was a beginner. This was even worse than the last one.
As the song wore on, a small voice at the back of Lance’s mind wondered if he should really be doing this. Lance remembered how awful Pidge was when she started, and how Lance found her crying behind the school one afternoon. He’d told her that being bad was ok.
The violin’s screeching stopped abruptly.
He remembered how horrible he’d sounded in the beginning, and how jealous he’d been of his brother’s skills.
Lance pulled the curtains further back, and looked out the window, at Keith, who stood with his legs wide, close to the chain-link fence of his backyard. His eyes were piercing and angry, and his violin was clenched in one hand, bow in the other. Lance gulped. He hadn’t really looked at Keith to see what he’d been feeling about all this.
The sound of the violin wasn’t a song after that, it was pure screeching. Lance bit his lip. He’d gone too far. Keith’s eyes bored into Lance’s as he dragged the bow across the strings with way too much force.
Lance looked around nervously. Then, he launched himself out his window and ran across the alley, hoping Keith would hear him out.
The screeching stopped, and Lance poked his hands into the holes of the chain-link fence.
“What?” Keith spat, voice poison.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” the way he said it made it sound like a curse word, not a greeting.
Lance licked his lips and gulped, “I, uh, maybe shouldn’t have done that.”
Keith’s eyes opened for a second, wide and surprised, but then, “Damn right, Lance.”
Lance felt a little happy that Keith knew his name. He mentally shook his head.
“I’m sorry. You’re new, apparently new to the violin, and that’s not wrong.”
Keith looked away, movements abrupt.
Lance sucked in a breath that stung his teeth with cold, “I know how hard it is to learn an instrument, and you’re really good at… stuff, so I guess I just wanted to show off.”
Keith nodded curtly.
“Look, I’m really sorry, man. I made a mistake. I’m apologizing.”
Keith turned to Lance, and shrugged, “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yeah-ok. It’s ok.”
Lance shrugged back, and then just stood, watching Keith. Keith grew fidgety, and looked away quickly.
“Well, see you at school, then...” Lance said, backing away awkwardly. He waved a little before turning and running to the window. Before he climbed through it, he turned back to see Keith with a strange expression on his face. Keith waved and turned away, going back inside.
_ “Maybe he’s not that bad…” _ Lance thought.
That school year, Lance and Keith became best friends. Not better than he and Hunk, but up there., and Pidge helped Keith with the violin. It turned out that Keith was so bad because he’d just started. They learned he was an orphan and his foster parents told him he had to learn a musical instrument, because they were musicians.
“It’s so stupid! I’m not even their kid,” Keith had said, an empty popcorn bowl on his lap, “I’ve always taken Art, and I’m way better at that.”
They’d been having another weekend sleepover at Hunk’s (he had the best snacks and movies) when they found out, not only about the violin, but about Keith’s not having parents. Keith said he was fine, and he seemed it, so it didn’t come up after that. |
e40cd9978ac846ca8512e06f634ac79a | ['1099003a04054dc6b65eb6c3b41bcf67'] | “I think that I need someone to help Jungkook relax and feel at ease. Taehyung is perfect for this, he was the one who introduced me to Namjoon and the rest so I’m sure that he will love Jungkook and inversely.” Jimin explained. “I’ll call him, he’ll be so happy to come!” Jimin exclaimed excitedly before dialling Taehyung’s number. It rang twice before Taehyung picked up.
“Hey Tae-Tae! Wassup?”
_“Hey Chim-Chim! Are you okay? You told me you won’t be seeing me fo_ _r a week and now you’re calling._ _Is something wrong?”_
“No, nothing’s wrong, I just wondered if you’d like to come over, maybe stay the night? I need you for something.” Jimin explained.
_“Yeah of course, if you need me I’ll come asap. I’ll be there in no time!”_ Taehyung said and hung up.
“Is he coming?” Mrs Park asked.
“Yes. I should maybe check on Jungkook to see if he’s asleep.” Jimin said before going back upstairs. He stood in front of Jungkook’s door for some seconds, tryig to hear something, anything. When he couldn’t hear anything, he decided to half-open the door. He saw Jungkook lying on his back, looking at the ceiling and apparently moving his lips as if he was telling something. Jimin heard him sigh deeply and decided to enter.
“Jungkookie?” He asked. Jungkook turned to look at him. “Are you okay?” Jungkook sat up and nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I have something to tell you.” Jimin said and went to sit on the bed beside Jungkook.
“You see, I have a very close friend of mine. He’s a bit weird but very nice and I’m sure you’ll like him a lot once you manage to get closer. I called him over, I hope it doesn’t bother you.” Jimin said softly.
Jungkook panicked a little at the mention of someone other than Jimin trying to talk to him. He grabbed his notepad.
_Are you going to leave me alone with your friend?_
“Of course not! I’ll be beside you all the time in case he makes you uncomfortable -which he will. But don’t worry, he’s harmless and very cute once you know him.” Jimin explained and Jungkook nodded.
_Will he try to talk to me?_
“Yes, surely. I didn’t tell him that you have social phobia yet but I’ll tell him once he arrives. Are you okay with that?” Jimin asked again and Jungkook nodded, smiling anxiously.
They stared at each other for a long time until Jimin averted his eyes.
“Uhm… I wanted to apologise about what happened earlier. It was inappropriate from me to hug you. I’m sorry.” Jimin said.
_‘_ _No, don’t apalogise, please. I al_ _l_ _owed you to hug me, I wanted to fe_ _el you._ _’_ Jungkook thought, he expression falling. But he nodded and smiled slightly. The bell suddenly rang.
“Oh, it must be my friend. I’ll go get him and I’ll come back after I explain everything to him okay?” Jimin said and rushed out of the room.
“Tae-Tae!” Jimin exclaimed when he opened the door.
“Chim-Chim!” Taehyung shouted, hugging Jimin. He entered and Jimin closed the door. “So, what’s up?” he asked.
“Do you remember the guy who I was always talking about?” Jimin asked.
“The one that sat under the light?” Jimin nodded.
“Yes. Something kinda happened and now he’s living with me and mom.”
“Really?!” Taehyung exclaimed.
“Yes. But I have to tell you. He has social phobia and he can’t talk. He hasn’t talked to me yet and I hope that you’ll be able to help him open up. That’s why you’re here.” Jimin explained.
“So, my mission is to warm up the boy’s heart so he can talk to you?” Taehyung asked.
“Kinda.”
“Challenge accepted ! Let’s go !” Taehyung exclaimed and dragged Jimin behind him as if he knew where Jungkook was.
“Hey, by the way, where is he?” he asked.
“The guest room.” Jimin answered and Taehyung quickly went there. He stood in front the door and knocked before entering.
“Hello !” he shouted, making Jungkook jump.
“Tae, don’t shout!” Jimin scolded him. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung, my best friend. Taehyung, this is Jungkook.” Jimin said, approaching Jungkook and sitting on the bed. Taehyung tried to walk closer too but Jungkook widened his eyes, shifting away from him.
“Hey, I’m not gonna eat you. You don’t have to be afraid. Jimin and I are one and the same. I am him and he is me. You can trust me.” Taehyung assured Jungkook and when the latter relaxed a little bit, Taehyung took a little step closer to him.
“So you’re Jungkook, right?” he asked and Jungkook slowly nodded. Taehyung beamed at him and Jungkook was surprised of how bright his smile was (not as bright as Jimin’s but still). “I’m Kim Taehyung, Jimin’s dearest friend and bro-mate as in soulmate but as brothers.” He explained and Jungkook smiled. He was quite the dork type and he was funny. “You’re cute when you smile. Can I take a seat on the chair?” he asked, pointing to a chair in a corner of the room. Jungkook nodded and Taehyung dragged the chair to where he was initially standing.
“Jungkookie, you see, he’s a bit weird but harmless.” Jimin said and Jungkook nodded, smiling widely at Jimin.
“Hey ! I’m not weird ! I’m just a lot extroverted ! I was born like that !” Taehyung complained, pouting. Jungkook took his notepad and wrote something.
_Being weird isn’t necessary a bad thing. It proves that you’re unique, in your own way._
Taehyung read this and smiled. | 4b63e1b6eaa641658359a42a53192cc7 | ['1099003a04054dc6b65eb6c3b41bcf67'] | “I will cook for you hyung because you allowed Yoongi to invade your home once again. And I’m a better cook than him.” He said and kissed Yoongi’s head before going to the kitchen. Zhoumi went to sit beside Yoongi and hugged him tight, making Yoongi laugh.
In the evening, at the showcase
Jungkook was in the front row, with Namjoon and Taehyung by his side. The other performances were great and he was afraid that Jimin was too stressed after having seen them and he couldn't stop frowning at this thought.
"Jimin will be okay Jungkook. He's probably freaking out a bit right now but he's with Hoseok. Hoseok is his pillar. It will all be alright, don't worry." Namjoon told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jungkook nodded and Seokjin came out of nowhere, sitting beside Namjoon.
"Joonie! I'm here, I hope I didn't miss anything, I was busy." He said and Namjoon curiously looked at him.
"No but where were you, I went to the café with Hoseok to fetch Jimin and Jungkook and they were the one to close the café. What is more important than your café?" Namjoon said and Jungkook looked at them at the question.
"You know, some things are more important and this was an emergency." Jin answered, not looking at Namjoon but at his feet. Namjoon was about to say something but the lights went down and so he reluctantly focused his eyes to the stage.
Music began to play and every member of the crew had one light focused on him/her. Jungkook easily spotted Jimin and he looked unbelievably flawless. He had styled his hair and had some eyeliner that made his eyes look even more cat-like. Jungkook was solely focused on Jimin and he could swear that when he began to dance he died because he found himself in heaven. Or more like in Hell because damn those hip thrusts! Jungkook was ready to faint. He had seen Jimin during practices but during the practice sessions, he didn't have this flirty look, he wasn't repeatedly licking his lips, his hand combing his hair every five seconds. And then, Jungkook came back to life. Jimin locked eyes with him and winked at him. Taehyung elbowed him.
"Son, you're drooling now. Close your mouth." He said, chuckling but he was drooling at Hoseok too. Jungkook closed his mouth and he could see Jimin's smirk so clearly, he was about to die from embarrassment. Not that Jimin wasn't aware of how much Jungkook fantasized about him, he was well aware of that, but he was still embarrassed of his reactions sometimes.
In the blink of an eye, the performance was over and Jungkook could breathe again. He saw Jimin go backstage not without looking at him one last time.
"Now, we just have to wait some minutes since they were the last. I'm sure they'll win, their performance was the best out there." Namjoon said and Jungkook noddeed again. They stayed seated and when the judges came on the stage followed by all the teams that had performed, they stood up, looking at the judge and the enveloppe he had in his hand. He took the mic a staff was giving him and brought it to his lips.
"The showcase has ended and the judges had chosen the winner. The decision wasn't easy to take, you saw it with your own eyes, all the teams were amazing but one of them really stood out. And this team is... BANGTAN! Congratulations!!" The MC shouted while a staff came to give the giant trophy to Hoseok who was so happy he was on the verge of crying. Namjoon sighed in relief while Taehyung jumped everywhere out of joy as Jungkook couldn't believe it. Jimin won. Not alone but with his team and Jungkook couldn't be happier for his boyfriend. Talking about him, where was he? As he followed his friends in the backstage as Namjoon was muttering 'Now I have to console this stupid horse' Jungkook was looking all around for Jimin. They approached the crying Hoseok as Jungkook was still turning his head like a crazy man, looking for his boyfriend.
"If you're looking for Jimin, he's in the changing room." Hoseok said and Jungkook immediately went to the changing rooms. The door was slightly open and as he was about to enter, he heard someone's voice. But it wasn't Jimin's. It was Min Yoongi's.
"I'm sorry Jimin." He was saying.
"You're sorry? You come months later, on one of the happiest days of my life to tell me that you're sorry?" Jimin's tone wasn't harsh, it was soft as always, but also kind of desperate. "For what? For not loving me like I wanted you to? For using me? For throwing me away? I already forgave you. What do you want more?" He asked. Yoongi took a step forward.
"I want us to be friends again." Yoongi answered.
"We never stopped being friends hyung. I always was your friend. But you never properly broke up with me. I had to wait for Jin hyung to tell me and this months after you mysteriously disappeared. I really loved you hyung. You were my first love and nothing can replace a first love." Jimin explained and Jungkook felt tears prickling at his eyes before turning around and going out unnoticed of the showcase hall. Jimin's words couldn't stop echoing in Jungkook's head and without knowing it, he began to walk not really going somewhere but having a place in mind. |
8b06dfd0ddb44dd2acdcdb12fa8c620e | ['10ce76ee09a74681b6c7361bf47e77fa'] | Rianne was smiling, and Thomas was uncomfortably reminded of Rachel; the two of them together would be a terrifying force of nature and Thomas was excited to see it.
Assuming Rachel was still alive.
“No one is killing anyone, alright,” Thomas said. Ben snorted, and Thomas stopped what he was about to say to look at him in disbelief, but Ben just held up his hands and gestured for Thomas to continue. “Anyway. No killing, we’re about to strike a new deal.”
“I beg you pardon?” Ava demanded. “We already had a deal, Thomas. One you’ve yet to make good on I might add.”
“Yes well, WCKD is my role model what can I say?” Thomas sneered. “It’s basically the same deal, just postponing your actions longer.”
If Ava didn’t go with this then Thomas wasn’t sure what he would do, how to react. He might actually just kill her and cut that whole plan as a loss entirely—they made it to the Safe Haven without her help the first time, Thomas could find a way to do it again. Flying by the seat of his pants was annoying for his friends but honestly it was the only way Thomas really knew how to operate. Whenever he took the time to actually lay out a plan it never worked out, improvisation was his greatest life skill. Probably his only life skill, if he thought about it.
In his nerves, Thomas reached down into his pouch and pulled out a mint leaf to shove in his cheek. The scent was calming, even though the taste of it gave Thomas… _ideas_ that were not exactly conducive to him doing much other than getting lost in thought. It was a give and take.
“Convince me,” was all Ava said in return.
“Right, so. I’m going to give you what Janson wanted,” Ben’s eyes widened in alarm and confusion, but Thomas kept going. “And you’re going to study it. Learn what you can from it, see why it is exactly that Janson is so focused on this.”
At that point Ben seemed more perplexed than ever, and Thomas couldn’t blame him. He had no idea what words were about to come out of his mouth, either. Every day was a surprise.
“That was already our bargain,” Ava began, but Thomas wasn’t done speaking.
“ _While you do this_ ,” Thomas said, chastising her for her interruption, “I will again be making use of your resources to aide in my search. And you’ll be figuring out a way to bring these kids out of their coma without killing them.”
Ava crossed her arms, “Thomas you know I can’t do that, you know why this research is too important to be stopped!”
“Did I stutter? Do you want answers or not, Ava?”
“Answers weren’t part of the bargain.”
“Yes, well, they’re about to be!” Thomas shouted.
“Uh, excuse me? Can I buy a fucking vowel here?” Rianne interjected, weapon in the air. “What the hell are you people talking about? _No one_ has any answers! To anything! At all!”
“Not now,” Ben whispered. But she wouldn’t be silenced.
“Half of my people are strung up like puppets and you’re telling me you won’t find a way to get them down? That we’re needed for some bangin’ cure for some people? I don’t care that the world is dying! I don’t! I care about _them_ dying!” she yelled.
“Then you’re a selfish brat who can’t see the bigger picture!” Ava snapped back, and Thomas was in shock.
He’d never seen Ava lose her cool like that, not ever. No matter what was said or done, Ava Paige never lost her composure. Who _was_ this girl?
“Selfish? _I’m_ selfish? Tell me, Wrinkles, what the hell are you sacrificing, huh? Where’s your big contribution to the greater good? Or am I wrong in thinking that this is literally all for your benefit?” Rianne said.
Ava turned white with rage, and her voiced lowered to a tone he’d never heard before. He was stuck looking back and forth between the two, gape-mouthed. Ben was no better, nor was Clyde. The guards were backing away, slowly.
“My contribution is my science, it’s the only—”
“So, you’re not immune, then?” Rianne asked.
Ava’s lips pursed before he answered, “No.”
“Right, yeah, now you’ll have to forgive me because my memory is a little fuzzy, but ever heard of evolution?” Rianne’s smiles was sweet, and biting. The way it didn’t meet her eyes when she looked at Ava niggled at the back of Thomas’s brain, but he couldn’t figure out where he’d seen it before.
When he’d seen someone get under Ava’s skin before.
“Evolution.” Ava responded flatly.
“Yep! Adaptation, all that?”
Thomas’s smile was cruel when he joined in. “Those who can adapt, survive. Those who can’t?”
“Die.” Rianne finished, and she accentuated it with a cock of her weapon and a dangerous tilt of her head. “So maybe you should listen to Bambi Eyes over here before we decide to speed it along.”
“And just what is it that _Bambi Eyes_ has to offer?” Ava gritted out.
“Answers.” Thomas said. “And you’re _really_ going to want them. So, my offer is this. We form a temporary alliance, you and me. I get your resources, you try to save the immunes you’ve put in a coma, you harm no one, and when you’ve finished studying what I’m about to give you and want answers, you get them. On the condition that once hearing them you’re willing to negotiate again and _listen_ to our side of things.”
“You truly think your answers will change our stance so profoundly, Thomas?” Ava asked, and Thomas was truly sick of being spoken to like a child.
“Ben? Hand it over.” Thomas said. Ben looked more confused than ever, so Thomas elaborated. “The thing in your sock, genius. Give it over.” | b5130bc5a3d5440e9f27c89f70a062bf | ['10ce76ee09a74681b6c7361bf47e77fa'] | Thomas nodded, absently kicking a loose rock across the dusty, cracked stone floor of the Glade. “So what’s the latest on that girl from yesterday?” He knew that asking was likely to miff his companion, but he still needed to know. So much of their plan relied on timing everything _perfectly_ with her, and while they knew that the moment Thomas started to seriously hear her voice in his head it was ‘go time’, it would still be best to make sure.
“Still in a coma, sleepin’. Med-jacks are spoon feeding her whatever soups Frypan can cook up, checking her vitals and such. She seems okay, just dead to the world for now.”
“That’s just plain weird.” So many conversations, so many actions, all repeated for the purpose of putting on a good enough show. The ridiculousness of their situation never failed to baffle him, the never-ending case of Deja-vu unbearable. Sometimes Thomas just felt the need to break the monotony with something new. “So why do we have all of the animals, but no horses? Horses would be _useful._ ”
“Horses.”
“Yes, horses.”
“What on earth would we do with horses in the Glade?”
Thomas sighed, Newt clearly didn’t understand his vision. One day he would, though. “Never mind, buddy. So what’s first? Milk cows or slaughter some poor little pigs?”
Newt laughed, a sounds Thomas realized he hadn’t heard since he’d arrived. “We always make Newbies start with the bloody Slicers. Don’t worry, cuttin’ up Frypan’s victuals ain’t but a part. Slicers do anything and everything dealin’ with the beasties.”
“Too bad I can’t remember my whole life. Maybe I love killing animals.” God, Thomas hated killing animals. Was this part of the day over with? He was suddenly starting to regret thinking that keeping his hands busy could possibly be a good thing when today was his day with Winston.
Newt nodded toward the barn. “Oh, you’ll know good and well by the time the sun sets tonight. Let’s go meet Winston—he’s the Keeper.”
Winston was an acne-covered kid, short but muscular, with olive skin and deep brown hair, and it seemed to Thomas that he liked his job way too much. Winston showed Thomas around for the first hour, pointing out which pens held which animals, where the chicken and turkey coops were, what went where in the barn. The dog, a pesky black Lab named Bark, took quickly to Thomas, hanging at his feet the entire tour. What ever happened to the dog in his timeline? Thomas wasn’t sure if he made it out okay or not, but this time maybe something could be worked out. Possibly. Fuck it maybe they could even save the cows, you never know.
The second hour was spent actually working with the farm animals—feeding, cleaning, fixing a fence, scraping up klunk.
The third hour was the hardest for Thomas. He had to watch as Winston slaughtered a hog and began preparing its many parts for future eating. Thomas swore two things to himself as he walked away for lunch break. First, he was still never eating anything that came from a pig; second, he didn’t care how many times he would go back in time, Thomas was never reliving his day with the Slicers again. Never.
Winston had said for him to go alone, that he’d hang around the Blood House, which was fine with Thomas. As he walked toward the East Door, he couldn’t help but notice that a few of the Gladers were eyeing him curiously, almost nervously, and when they caught his eye they paused, before giving him a small, determined nod. Thomas smirked, and nodded in return- it was good to know that the Keepers were carrying out that phase of the plan- before continuing towards the East Door where, sure enough. There was Minho, right on time.
The Runner stopped three steps in, then bent over and put his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He looked like he’d just run twenty miles, face red, skin covered in sweat, clothes soaked.
Thomas stared, everything that happened right on schedule was one less thing for Thomas to worry about. And then, just as before, Minho collapsed to the ground.
Tomas didn’t move for a few seconds. Minho lay in a crumpled heap, barely moving, but Thomas, obviously knew he was fine. Nevertheless he sprang into action, kept things going smoothly.
“Alby!” he shouted. “Newt! Somebody get them!”
Thomas sprinted to the older boy and knelt down beside him. “Hey—you okay?”” The Runner’s head rested on outstretched arms as he panted, his chest heaving. He was conscious, but Thomas had never seen someone so exhausted.
“I’m…fine,” he said between breaths, then looked up. “I think I believe you now.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow, pointedly, because they were out in the open and soon to be surrounded. Now wasn’t the time. As Minho pushed himself into a seated position, his black hair matted to his skull with sweat, Alby jogged up, clearly upset.
“What’re you doin’ back, Minho? What happened?”
“Calm your wad, Alby,” the Runner replied, seeming to gain strength by the second. “Make yourself useful and get me some water—I dropped my pack out the somewhere.”
But Alby didn’t move. He kicked Minho in the leg—too hard to be playful. “What _happened_?”
“I can barely talk, shuck-face!” Minho yelled, his voice raw. “Get me some water!”
Alby looked over at Thomas, who was amused to see the slightest hint of a smile flash across his face before it vanished into a scowl. “Minho’s the only shank who can talk to me like that without getting his butt kicked off the Cliff.”
Thomas smiled back at him, and shook his head as Alby ran off, presumably to get Minho some water.
Thomas turned towards Minho, who was giving him a calculated stare, but said nothing. “You never did miss much, did you?” Thomas asked, more to himself than anyone else. |
f35345b45a36498888c44b5046b1f295 | ['10e073e2f3374d3bad4adc034fc8fc9f'] | "Who is not working on a composition for Ludwig?" Fell cut into his meat, causing the fork to slide painfully across the bottom of the doctor's china. Will winced at the sound. This meal was not going well. Signore Fell had been late, "To be fashionable, you know" he'd said, looking at Will "Ahh, Master Graham, are you to mimic your betters this evening? Which composer shall you emulate? Are you able to _feel_ everything our friend has thrown together? Still a mimic, not bringing anything of your own to the table, as it were?"
The doctor had chosen that moment to enter the room and direct Signore Fell to the dining room. Will remembered that as the signore walked forward, Hannibal had spared Will a backward glance. Will had almost looked away, unwilling to see pity in the composer's eyes, but was surprised to see something of satisfaction. Hannibal had been proven right about something. Will only saw that look upon successful completion of a difficult arpeggio or an astute observation.
"Many are composing for the King, Signore Fell, but few are requested to do so." Hannibal set a slice of meat on Will's plate. His mouth was too dry to really enjoy anything, so he reached for the wine instead. Perhaps that would be enough to dull the unpleasantness of the meal. Briefly, he wished that there was something stronger, but then it would be unlikely he would be able to hold his tongue.
"Well, then, you are to be congratulated." Signore Fell dug into the rest of his meal with gusto "Would that your composition were as delicious as your meals."
"Would you care to hear it?" Hannibal asked, mildly.
Will's gaze snapped back to Hannibal. Play it now? It wasn't finished. It wasn't nearly ready to be heard. All they had was "The Pursuit" as it had been nicknamed, and Will still struggled with the difficult fingerings aside from any additional feeling he needed to put in it. He had wanted to attempt this alone, after seeing what inspired Hannibal in the dark and close alleyways. How could he tap into those feelings with an audience? It would certainly not improve his standing with Signore Fell. Will felt that his face must have shown the abject terror in his thoughts and made eye contact with Hannibal, who gave a slight nod.
"I've finished eating, Herr Doktor, so you cannot possibly spoil my dinner. I would love to hear it played on your...music box." He sniffed delicately, "Unless, perhaps, there is something for dessert?"
Hannibal rose, indicating the salon "Master William has been an integral part of the composition process, Signore. However, I am sure that having you in audience will provide additional inspiration for those sections that are not yet ready for the public at large. The sweetness of this performance will be all the dessert you could require."
Will's hands were shaking under the table. He drew a few, steadying breaths and stood, preparing himself. The doctor seemed confident. Perhaps the discoveries he made while under duress before Signore Fell, would prepare him the high stakes that it would be performing in front of the king. Perhaps an audience is exactly what he needed. It certainly seemed that Hannibal was looking forward to it. The doctor walked purposefully and was all graciousness as Fell continued to insult the décor in Hannibal's home, little remarks about how "You can imitate the beauty that is Italy, but it will always be a poor facsimile to the real thing." The doctor, for his part, offered polite murmurs and directed Signore Fell to the seat of honor near the fireplace.
Will began to tune his violin, listening closely to the chords, making the fine adjustments to sweeten and darken the sound. Hannibal pour a snifter of brandy for Signore Fell and passed in front of Will.
"Is all in order, Master William?" He sat at the harpsichord, taking in the keyboard, and the music in front of him.
"Yes" Will breathed "As much as it can be for a work in progress."
"Have no fear, William. Perhaps Signore Fell can provide us our inspiration." Hannibal paused. After an uncomfortable period of silence, Will lifted his head to meet his eyes. "And no matter what, play on. Let nothing stop you, Will. We will make wonderful discoveries together."
Will let out a shaky breath.
"Do get on with it, gentleman, the brandy isn't that good."
Will began. They'd reworked the movement to start with solo violin. He played low and quiet, an exploring melody...the stag now transformed into a wayward traveler, lost in the woods. Ominously, Hannibal played quiet chords, becoming ever more insistent...the sound of distant horns and unearthly hooves.
The movement picked up with a staccato notes interspersed with the melody...a quickening heartbeat of concern. Will knew the Wild Hunt and its King stalked these woods, knew what would happen...and then melody took off, transformed into the chase. Will continued to play, but grew concerned, they'd written the section for his part but had not yet found Hannibal's accompaniment. As he began the de facto solo section, Hannibal slowly rose and walked to stand behind Signore Fell. Distantly, Will heard their conversation as he played.
"Well. Nothing like anything I've heard. Terribly sorry its not music." Signore Fell swirled his brandy in its snifter, watching it as the candlelight filtered through the amber liquid.
"Perhaps you have something to add?" Doctor Lecter said.
"You may as well scrap it and start over. Maybe consider getting a real violinist." Will winced, nearly loosing his place, but continued to play, the pace growing frantic and afraid as the traveler dashed from tree to tree, trying to outrun the inevitable.
"Perhaps it was a problem with the strings." Hannibal said quietly, as Will leaned into another passage of discordant notes, echoing the terror of the chase.
"The strings?" Fell turned around in his seat, looking up to Hannibal. | 244949060b194c39a1d45dc278a817bb | ['10e073e2f3374d3bad4adc034fc8fc9f'] | Will turned to the accented voice. A gentleman descended the stair case. Dressed in buff riding breeches and a closely fit jacket, this did not appear to be a member of the idle rich.
"Herr Doktor?" Will asked, hoping he did not presume incorrectly.
"Yes, you have the right of it. Please, you are English, correct? Call me Doctor Lecter. I will not try you with the intricacies of German nobility and dialect"
The Doctor was a tall, lean man that reminded Will somewhat of a greyhound. At ease and at rest until he needed to break out into a run and bring down his prey. A sleek animal, bred for the hunt. Will's hand tightened around the handle of his violin case and he was surprised by a sudden urge to run.
******************************************
Will cleared his throat "Thank you. Despite being here for some time, I find my German still lacking." Doctor Lecter chuckled, low and welcoming.
"It is an uncommon language," he paused thoughtfully "though, It has a strength I can appreciate. None of the fluidity of the French or the fire of the Italians. Yet, there is much to appreciate in the language. It is...refreshing. Much like your English."
Will felt an urge to defend his country of birth, however, as of it late, it had not done much for him. He had no home to return to, all he had left was his language.
"Please, let us enter the salon." Doctor Lecter gestured to a room on his left.
"How many am I to play for?" Will asked as he stepped into the salon, appraising the space for its sound and form. Like everything else he had seen, it was decorated in perfect taste. An imposing chair was near the fireplace. Against the interior wall, a harpsichord. Nothing was out of place.
"I am your audience." Doctor Lector replied.
Will looked up at him. "No one else?"
"Forgive me my eccentricities Master William, if I am to listen to a composition, I prefer to be uninterrupted by the demands of playing host. This performance is just for me. I am eager to hear your interpretation of that piece." He sat down, carefully arranging his coat around him. "So. What did you think of it?"
He gestured to a wooden music stand nearby. Will set down the case and began to prepare his instrument. Doctor Lecter seemed to watch every move he made.
"I found it...uncommon." Will started. Unnerved, his hand slipped as he attempted to rosin his bow.
"Uncommon? Unusual?"
"Well, yes, it follows a traditional structure, somewhat dance like, and fast. Without a title I couldn’t be sure. Likely the allergo of a larger piece." A singular patron requesting a concert for one. To have that kind of wealth was a staggering thought to Will. Had he the funds, would he do the same? Or simply fund his own playing and practice for himself in a room such as this. Bending over, he picked up the rosin, made a few more swipes against the strings.
"May I?" He asked, and Doctor Lecter nodded.
The room was warm enough, and not too dry. His instrument would be in fine voice tonight. Fine enough to please the good doctor, he decided. He straightened, shifted his instrument into position and began to tune.
His chords seemed to align themselves without his assistance. Everything seemed in order, and he doubted Doctor Lecter would have accepted anything else. He seemed a man who could bend the very air to his will. Will looked at the doctor, waiting for a signal to begin.
The gentleman seemed to appraise him from head to toe and gestured with one elegant hand to start the piece.
As Will set to play, images came to his head. They always did. In the past, the componsers he had performed for said it seemed he knew exactly what they were thinking as they had composed. This was no different. He was in the woods, just before dark. Owl song seemed to come through in low, mournful chords setting the stage. The more difficult section brought in a stag. He could see it, being chased across the forest floor.
The piece picked up speed, the fingerings more difficult, and more rewarding. Weaving through trees, Will came to understand he was part of the chase. He'd practiced it feeling that he'd been the hunter, but now, in this room, his playing took on a new urgency. Moving on to the second page, he realized he was not the hunter, rather, he was the stag, being hunted by an unseen entity.
He felt himself weaving to the music, ducking at the start of arpeggios, leaning into the final section where it slowed into ominous held notes. He trembled, as though feeling the hunter behind the trees. Eyes wide and terrified, the piece began to run again, he as the stag sprinting to the finish, faster and faster as though his very life depended the speed at which he played when, with an abrupt crack, one of the violin strings snapped, gunshot loud in the salon. Will recoiled in pain as the string sliced his cheek.
Doctor Lecter rushed to Will's side, deftly pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Not the finish I envisioned but its abruptness has a certain appeal." He said, wryly. Will could feel droplets of blood weeping down his cheek, felt one drop to his worn shirt as he grimaced, wondering about the impression he'd just made on the doctor.
Will looked him in the eye as the handkerchief was pressed to his cheek. Tremulously, he asked "You wrote this?"
Lifting Will's hand to hold the fabric in place, Doctor Lecter paused, lingering over the calluses on Will's hand. Then, after a moment, Doctor Lecter replied "I did. The composition is mine. Would you like to know its title?"
Will nodded, breathless with shock.
"Der Jager und Der Hirsch."
Will breathed quickly. "The Hunter...and The Stag." |
2cd355f83cef450dbb194d312cfd79f8 | ['10f7e4fc1fb848be8e6e82628db4189e'] | Professor Sycamore shook his head slowly, absentmindedly, before finally turning away from the wreckage. He walked back in the direction of the main town and the other two dutifully trotted after him. He stopped in front of the entrance to Route 11 and released his talonflame from its pokéball.
"I'm going to meet Serena in Couriway Town, but I'll be back in Lumiose by tomorrow morning, alright?" He said.
Sina and Dexio both nodded and watched their boss disappear into the distance in silence.
* * *
_I have to apologize to you about Lysandre..._
He practiced what he would say in his head over and over again as he absentmindedly watched the Kalosian countryside transform into cities and back again beneath his companion’s wings. He reminded himself that he had already sent her a message asking to meet her, he couldn’t back out now. All he could do was steel himself for the conversation he would be having once he landed.
He recalled Lysandre once telling him how it was the duty of adults not to fail those that would succeed them. He pushed the thought away before he could even register the memory as a happy or sad one.
He didn’t blame Serena for anything that had happened, of course. She needed to know that. It was already unfair that she had to shoulder the weight of protecting everyone she’s ever met, to give the poor girl any sort of grief on account of a criminal’s death wish was unthinkable. He tried to put aside his own mourning to imagine the impact that Lysandre’s last stand would have on an impressionable child.
The thought made him grimace to himself. The circumstances of the flare leader’s demise, at least as relayed by his assistants, were wearing away at the polished image that Sycamore had formed of him over the years. He was self-aware enough to have realized long before this that he had been in denial about some of the man’s qualities, but his last moments seemed to taint all that had come before it. Already he could feel something dark twisting through their past together, spreading like black ink through longstanding paths of water.
Even through a haze of adoration, Sycamore knew he knew long ago that his passion and ambition went hand-in-hand with his rage and obsession. He knew that the empathy that drew him to him was like an exposed nerve, agonizing to possess. He knew about all his flaws beforehand, knew them _intimately_ , and he felt a sting of disappointment at himself mixed in with the rest of his anguish because of it.
He wondered if this would have hurt more if he really had been as oblivious to Lysandre’s nature as he feigned. He doubted it, considering one of the worst things about this mess was the already-creeping guilt that he could have prevented it.
The worst thing was knowing that despite the fact that he didn’t, he still loved him.
_I have to apologize to you about Lysandre. I have to apologize to you. I have to apologize._
Couriway Town’s waterfalls were just coming into focus through the faint fog when his talonflame let out a squawk to grab his attention. He directed the pokémon to land gently in the middle of town, hopped off, and took a moment to affectionately run his hands through its feathers. The bond between pokémon and their trainer was a beautiful thing, something he was glad he had dedicated such a large part of his life to appreciating. Even so, he couldn’t help but think of it as a burden when he looked into its eyes and saw his own misery reflected so clearly. Sycamore noted that his sadness, his numbing, all-consuming sadness, was certain to have its effect on the pokémon that he had bonded with, and felt remorse at the thought. He caressed the side of bird’s head once more, pleading a silent apology to the creature.
Night had already fallen, so the two were alone in the spot of lamplight illuminating the wooden pier. It was mid-September and only around 9 o’clock, so it wasn’t as if the temperature had dropped all that much yet, but he still felt a chill rattling him to his core. He made a mental note to justify it with the presence of the ever-frozen Snowbelle City just to the south, if asked.
He heard the faint scuffling of feet and saw a slender figure walking from the direction of the Pokémon Center with a fully-evolved delphox in tow, lighting their path. Her key stone caught the moonlight, shimmering a faint turquoise everytime she swung her arms as she walked. He felt the dull pangs of regret reverberate through him afresh at the sight.
Serena quickened her pace when she caught sight of him, her delphox following close behind. She caught his eyes and gave him a drained smile, not unlike the one he gave to Sina and Dexio just a few hours earlier, and he knew already that no rehearsed apology would ever feel satisfactory to him. Still, he cleared his throat and recited his lines.
“Hello…” He began, and took a deep breath. “I have to apologize to you about Lysandre… I’m very sorry about the trouble he caused…”
* * *
Days passed in a haze for a long while after that day, which was henceforth almost exclusively thought of as the Incident by Professor Sycamore and several of his associates. He was given time off on compassionate leave, something that a younger version of him might have resisted out of love for his work, but he now found himself graciously accepting it. | 8986fee86cbb428eab973ace2fec160c | ['10f7e4fc1fb848be8e6e82628db4189e'] | Big Boss is already running his fingers through his double’s hair, petting him uncharacteristically gently while his lips hover gingerly at the base of his cock. Venom eases his way in, bringing his metallic hand up to support himself against Big Boss’ muscular thigh. He starts pressing kisses up the side of his shaft before slowly taking the head into his mouth, earning himself a satisfied hum from the man standing over him.
Big Boss’ grip on his hair tightens and urges Venom closer, to take more of him into his mouth, and he offers up no resistance. Venom moans around his cock, low and guttural, and Big Boss echoes him as Venom begins to bob his head, eager to please.
At this point Kaz can’t deny his morbid interest, unable to look away but still sickened by the way his pants are feeling tighter by the minute despite himself. Past encounters with the two of them keep superimposing themselves over the sight in front of him, every moan another reminder of a time when he had been in either of their positions.
Big Boss looked up from where Venom was kneeling before him to stare into Kaz’s eyes and he feels his mouth go dry. Obscene, wet sounds hang in the air between them in the quiet room. He doesn’t dare break the eye contact before Big Boss does, refusing to concede him this arbitrary victory. Big Boss’ mouth twists up into a wry smirk and Kaz feels his face heat up. _ Damn him. _
“Ocelot, would you mind helping out our friend over there? I wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”
_ What. _
Ocelot hummed in response, whirling himself around to straddle Kaz where he sat. “If he’s agreeable, I have no objections.”
_ Agreeable _ was pushing it given the circumstances, but Kaz could feel the self control required of him to say no to this rapidly slipping out of his grasp. It’s not like it would be the first time he and Ocelot slept together, anyways. As much as the man grated at his patience, he wasn’t about to deny that from a purely physical standpoint he found him very attractive.
Ocelot plucks his aviators from the bridge of his nose and meets his eyes with his usual catlike expression, picking through every minute bit of body language Kaz offers up to him. He cocks an eyebrow questioningly, getting a quick nod from Kaz in return. Ocelot inches closer, sitting in his lap. He slides his hands along the side of Kaz’s throat dangerously, down across his upper chest as he slips the overcoat from his shoulders. Every action comes off as haughty and claiming, an echo of the man behind him.
Kaz sees Big Boss help Venom up to his feet, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He moves to whisper something in the phantom’s ear, inaudible, but the breathless smile he gets in return speaks volumes. Big Boss spins him around, pressing his chest against Venom’s back and Venom’s hips against Kaz’s desk.
“Kaz,” Big Boss says, already working at Venom’s pants, “This is your desk, isn’t it? Where do you keep the lube?”
“Kind of presumptuous to assume I’d keep that in my desk.”
“Top-right drawer, all the way in the back.” Ocelot cuts in flippantly.
Big Boss chuckles to himself while Kaz shoots them both a dirty look.
Ocelot takes it upon himself to distract Kaz from the otherwise uninteresting sight of Big Boss rummaging through his desk, loosening his tie, unbuttoning the top of his shirt just enough to get at the hollow of his throat. Ocelot kisses under his chin, on his neck, anywhere but his mouth, while Kaz fumbles with his belt. He wastes no time palming Ocelot’s dick through his pants, pleased by the way his breath involuntarily hitches. Not that he gives a shit about _ Ocelot’s _ pleasure, but Big Boss isn’t infallible, and the thought that he could get under his skin this way pleases him.
_ Two can play at this game _ , Kaz thinks spitefully.
Big Boss sets the lube down on the desk and guides venom over to him, having him lie face down against the wood, perpendicular to where Kaz was sitting. _ He’s nothing if not theatrical, _ Kaz notes bitterly, _ of course he wouldn’t want my view obstructed. God Forbid. _
The two of them together make short work of the rest of Venom’s clothes, leaving them a crumpled heap of tan and camo on the floor. Big Boss remained as he was, still donned in black from head to toe, but Venom didn’t seem to have any complaints.
He’s already working slicked fingers into Venom by the time Ocelot is just stepping quickly out of his pants and underwear. _ Still took the time to put his stupid boots back on, though _ , Kaz notes to himself.
Ocelot is back on him in an instant, pulling down his pants just enough to reveal what he’s after. He’s ruthlessly efficient in his movements, giving Kaz’s cock a few rough strokes, having decided that the state of his arousal was not up to his standards, before turning his attention back to preparing himself.
Kaz watches as Venom grasps at the edge of the desk, cheeks flushed and eyes pressed shut. Big Boss adds another finger, continuing teasing him open, and he lets out a shameless moan. Kaz is spellbound despite himself, staring hungrily at Venom while his noises grow bolder and more desperate beneath his double’s hand. Kaz had always known him to be more soft-spoken, in work and sex alike, and is caught off guard, enthralled by Venom’s voice all the same.
_ It’s a good thing this room was soundproofed for security reasons, _ Kaz thinks dryly, _ otherwise we’d have more questions than we could comfortably answer. _ |
e5f37ff7b45e465586033d66a9fadee3 | ['113d5e36117d484dabc2587ba034bd8c'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I was inspired by 2 things 1. by This Savage Song with idea of monsters being created by works of violence, and 2. the dust in my eyes making it seem that I could see shapes or sometimes shadows of movement when there was nothing there. So I just wrote this first chapter when it was pouring rain outside and got scared shitless by lightning that struck too close lol.
>
> Since idk where I'm going with this story so far the tags seem a mess and my head is a mess but usually when I free write, I come up with the story on the fly. So the tags may change. The only thing I'm keeping for sure is the monsters, demons, magic and the love lol.
Apple trees symbolize youth, happiness, health, beauty, and magic.
* * *
That night it was pouring; it was as if even nature knew the day was going to end badly. The lightning tore across the sky, giving Eren brief moments of vision to find his way home. An umbrella was useless against a storm like this, but he had brought it with him regardless. Eren tried to push his way through even though his clothes and bag were dragging him back; trying to keep him from reaching home. His workplace wasn’t far from home; he could usually walk there in about 10 minutes but today was different. He felt off all morning, actually dreading going to work, not because he hated his job-- it’s nearly impossible to like any job honestly, it’s just a job, a way to make money-- but rather because he didn’t want to leave his mother alone.
It made no sense to him. His mom was okay, and they didn’t live in a bad neighbourhood either. But he just felt that today was not a good day. His eyes were itching all day too, which Eren saw as a bad sign, because every time his eyes itched something terrible happened. Like that one time his eyes were itching non-stop, and later on in the day, he got fired from his old job for a stupid reason (he may have forgot to set up his alarm and was 2 hours late but he was on time all the other days!). But recently the itching got worse, which meant he got more accident prone. He had various bruises all over his body from constantly tripping and falling and bumping into things.
No matter how many times he tried to wash his eyes the itching didn’t stop. Dust kept dancing in his vision making him think he saw movement even though no one was there. Now, his itching eyes coupled with the pouring rain enveloped by the dark moonless night, made it almost impossible to see if he was even going in the right direction. It definitely felt like he was walking for at least half an hour. He wasn’t sure though, and he wasn’t going to fuck up his phone by checking either. Finally the rain slowed down enough for him to see his path. He had taken a wrong turn. He turned back and started to walk faster; his nerves were making him jittery. Yet he couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. A strong feeling of anxiousness gripped at his throat making it hard to breathe, let alone walk fast. But he kept going.
At last he saw the back of his house. Just as he was deciding to enter through the back door there was a burst of blinding light paired with a thunderous crack so loud he was left blind and unable to hear anything. He almost fell back by sheer panic alone which flared through him, making his already fast heart, accelerate even more. He immediately crouched bring his hands to his ears and keeping his eyes shut. There was a ringing in his ears and his vision was flooded with white. No one tells you how scary it is to lose your senses. You feel lost, and it could have even the strongest and the most determined soldier crying.
Eren didn’t know how long he sat on the sidewalk in the rain, lost even though he was beside his home, trying to find his way, his sight, his hearing, but eventually the ringing dulled and his eyes now no longer saw white. Slowly he pried his eyes open and uncovered his ears. Nothing looked different, except there seemed to be more dust dancing in his vision and the itching in his eyes got worse. Slowly raising to his feet Eren got the strong urge to go around the house, he always trusted his gut so he started to walk towards the front. _That blast had to be lightning_. He didn’t realize it was that… violent, but maybe he was too close to where it struck. Coming around he finally laid his still itching eyes to what the lightning _ had _ hit. His apple tree.
He had planted it himself when he was young. It wasn’t huge, or rather pretty, and the apples that grew were too much in numbers and went bad too fast, but it was his tree. And now it sat broken. Branches everywhere, apples that weren’t picked, blackened. His tree was gone. Sadness filled him, he was emotionally attached to the tree. Often sitting under it and looking at the sky through the leaves and branches. Imagining far off lands where he was special. Where he could save the world. His mother would join him with his stories adding bits and pieces to make it even better. It was a place where they both could escape; their little doorway to a magical world all about them. And now the door was gone. But his anxiousness wasn’t. The bad feeling was there, it got _ stronger _ , the broken tree adding more uneasiness. | 26b9f97f2ce449a8a53af34264d6564d | ['113d5e36117d484dabc2587ba034bd8c'] | “My mom was here! I got home and she was here but she didn’t let me inside!” Eren reached out desperately. He felt Mikasa’s hands back on his.
“Eren, calm down, tell us what happened once you got home.” Mikasa’s soothing voice did little to calm him. But he tried to find his breath. He needed to make them understand, he needed their help since he couldn’t see.
“I came back from work and Mom took a long time to answer door and when she did, she pretended it wasn’t me. She told me to run. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her, she’s the only family I have left.” Eren’s voice was breaking, but he needed to keep going, “ so I broke in looking for her, and there were these, these, I don’t know okay? I just know she has to be here somewhere. Hiding from whatever she told me to run from. Please find her!” Eren was out of breath by the end. A small part of him wondered if Mikasa even understood what he said. But she did.
“Levi, search the house.” Eren didn’t know if Levi even moved because he heard nothing except his own harsh breaths, and Mikasa’s calm breaths in front of him. But he must have left because Mikasa was speaking to him again. Trying to calm him down. He felt something touch his cheeks, drying the tears he didn’t even know were there.
Eren should have been feeling lost, like he did when the lightning took away his sight, but he wasn’t. He was scared, worried, and confused, but he wasn’t lost. He still had the hope that his mother was there, and she would come to him. Or that this was all just a detailed dream and the obnoxious sound of his alarm would wake him any second. But it wasn’t a dream. It felt too real. His senses were heightened at the lack of their visual counterpart, and he could feel it to his very soul that this was real.
Mikasa’s low voice and her hands kept him grounded while he waited, and waited and waited, for Levi to return with his mom. But he didn’t. He came back alone. Eren heard him step around the rubble, but didn’t hear his mom.
“Where is she?” his voice cracked.
“Eren there’s no one in the house, except for us.” Levi’s voice was gentle, like he was trying not to frighten a wild animal. Except it didn’t work.
“No she has to be here! There’s no way she could have left! I would see her! Are you sure you checked properly?” Eren removed his hands from Mikasa’s and started to get up, despite his bag weighing him down. Blindly reaching out his hands to find a wall to guide him. He would find his mom. _ Levi didn’t look properly, it’s not his house and he probably doesn’t even care, but I know and I do and I will find her. _
“Eren wait, you can’t see, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mikasa caught Eren as he was about to trip over rubble. “Listen there’s no one here, and we can’t stay, in case more monsters show up. I think your mom told you to run and she herself ran too. When monsters attack they leave behind traces of their victims and there’s nothing here, I would feel it.”
“Come to think of it, I think I passed by a door that was unlocked. I’m pretty sure she escaped through there.” Levi tried, and this seemed to work. Eren knew they always kept doors locked. His mom must have fled too. Why she would leave him, or why they couldn’t flee together, he didn’t understand but as long as she was alive, Eren would find her. _ She’s not dead, _ she’s not dead, _ I won’t allow her to be dead, I will find her. And I will hurt whoever--whatever--separated us. _
Mikasa and Levi took Eren’s silence as a good sign. They explained to Eren that there was a doctor at their workplace that could give him back his sight, and that they would help him find his mom. Eren agreed; he couldn’t do much being blind anyways. He couldn’t stay in the house and it was still pouring outside. Levi and Mikasa seemed to know him and his mom, so he would stick to their side for now.
He didn’t know what to think of the shadows he saw, or the monsters Levi and Mikasa had apparently saved him from ( _ were they even the same? The monsters and the shadows? Because I didn’t see monsters. _ ). There was too much going on, and he needed answers. He needed his vision. And both were promised to him by the two strangers.
They decided to leave through the back door since there was too much rubble to leave through the hole in the wall or the front door. Had Eren not lost his vision, he would have seen the back door when they approached it and left through it. He would have seen that the door was locked from the inside, the key still hanging beside it on its hook. He would have realized that the door was opened for the first time that night when they passed through it. He would have realized Levi had lied. But he had lost his vision; so he didn’t notice any of this. So he left the house; with his mother’s body still there.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you liked!
> |
46354eb7f44e4e919c92ad2c60ea1569 | ['11558f7e844c4564934d8c7438cee646'] | Jisung, the guy Minho has basically loved after a month of knowing each other, actually loves him too.
"Oh my god,"
**minho**
10:50 pm
_what_
**jisung**
10:51 pm
_yeah_
**jisung**
10:51
_I know it's weird and I just thought I'd lead into every cliche ever and shut you out_
**minho**
10:53 pm
_but_
**minho**
10:53 pm
_I didn't think I was very subtle_
**jisung**
10:55 pm
_what_
**minho**
10:56 pm
_I loved you first_
* * *
Minho is back home on a Saturday and instead of stopping at his apartment to settle back in, he drives straight to Jisung's.They haven't seen each other in person for almost a month; Minho is shaking as he parks his car by the curb.
He's standing in front of Jisung's apartment door only a minute after getting out of the car.
Before knocking, he starts to smile and takes a deep breath, the box of crystals in his hands.
Changbin answers the door.
"Minho?"
"Where's Jisung?"
He doesn't even get to reply because Jisung steps behind him and lightly taps him out of the way.
Minho's smiling again as Jisung looks square at him, obviously confused.
He laughs a little and pushes the box towards Jisung. He says, "Souvenirs."
Jisung doesn't take the box but instead grabs Minho's arm to pull him inside.
Changbin is sitting on the couch while looking at them tiredly, though seemingly like he knows everything.
Jisung sets the box on to the kitchen counter and looks at Minho before opening it. He looks back at Minho after seeing the crystals excitedly.
"These are the coolest crystals I've ever seen,"
Minho laughs. He looks over at Changbin and tries to convey that he should definitely go away, which he picks up on because he casually gets up and salutes Minho on his way to his room.
Minho gets close to Jisung as soon as he's gone, looking straight at him as he turns to face him.
"I'm so happy to see you," Minho confesses.
Jisung pulls Minho in for a hug. He says, "I am pretty great,"
Minho leans back to say something witty, but just looking at Jisung this close stops him. "I guess you are," he says, next kissing the corner of Jisung's mouth.
**Author's Note:**
> the thing about this fic is that I wrote it a really long time ago as a meanie fic and posted it here under a different profile (cekaykc) but orphaned that and now I'm posting it as minsung because Otp but if you ever see the other one which would be very unlikely just know it was me who wrote it and I didn't steal it thank you lol.
>
> I hope you liked it though and if you did please give me feedback as it helps me grow ! <3 thank you for reading | b1135487594b43fdad9c4bb6e46f9143 | ['11558f7e844c4564934d8c7438cee646'] | Getting high was Minho's idea, boasting about a peach flavored blunt he'd gotten a friend of his to buy for him. Jisung argued that it tasted like deodorant while Hyunjin and Minho just shrugged. He was supposed to be home a half hour ago, but is trying to subside the haze he brought upon himself before leaving. He doesn't wanna look at Minho and Hyunjin together anymore, though, so he stands up off the bed and tells Minho, "I need some eye-drops."
They're in Minho's bathroom and Jisung is on the toilet seat again, staring at Minho's back as he looks for the eye-drops. When he finds the bottle he says, “Here we go,” and turns around smiling, getting close to Jisung.
"Look up," Minho says, putting his hand under Jisung’s chin and guiding his eyes toward the ceiling. Jisung flinches with the first drop and Minho has to put his hand behind Jisung's neck to keep him steady. "It’s okay, Ji," he laughs.
Jisung blinks the second drop away easily while Minho puts the bottle back in the cabinet. He turns to Jisung after and puts his hands behind him on the cupboard, smiling in a silly way as Jisung slouches and stares.
"You're so high," Minho laughs again.
"I'm moderately high," Jisung defends, though his expression stays blank and his speech is slow while he keeps staring at Minho. He's wearing purple and Jisung can smell his cologne through the distance and lingering of marijuana. His attention lands on Minho's eyes and he frowns.
"Ji?" Minho questions. "You good?"
Jisung shakes his head. "Minho, why are you dating him?"
Minho picks himself up straight and looks all over Jisung, a little nervous. He asks, "Why?"
"Yeah," Jisung says before lazily trying to swallow his cotton mouth away.
"He's a really good guy, Jisung," Minho states slowly, making sure he's being listened to.
Jisung looks down, throwing a subtle tantrum. He mumbles, "Too good..."
Minho sighs and asks, "Is that bad?"
Jisung looks back up at Minho. He's standing there with a bit of a clench to his fists and a defensive look on his face. Jisung stands from the toilet seat and sighs. He confesses, "I wanna be with you, Minho."
"I know, Jisung."
Jisung steps forward until he’s as close as Minho will let him get. He has to look up slightly. Minho looks down at him and says, "He's across the hall, Jisung."
Jisung says, "Can I kiss you, anyway?"
* * *
"For real?"
"Yes," Felix smiles. "It was only for a minute, but at least he spoke to me."
"Does he want to, like, get back together?" Jisung asks.
"I don't know," Felix shrugs, happy. "Right now I'm content with just talking to each other again." He and Jisung smile at each other, then Felix asks, "Any updates on you?"
Jisung holds his breath and looks at the moon. He says, "Minho kicked me out of his house when I tried to kiss him."
Felix says, "Oh," and watches Jisung inhale. "That's not what I hoped to happen."
"Yeah, me neither,” Jisung laughs.
Jisung skips English the next day and evades Minho for the next week. They don't see each other for a while, but Minho calls Jisung way too late on a Tuesday night and casually invites him to come over, which he does.
"I'm sorry," Jisung starts, whispering as he and Minho tiptoe up the his room. "You know, for trying to kiss you."
Minho doesn't say anything the whole walk. Jisung stands in the middle of his room while Minho shuts the door quietly, both not speaking. Minho sits on his bed while Jisung sits on the floor. Minho is looking at him, looking troubled as he sighs. He says, "I broke up with Hyunjin."
Jisung opens his mouth and tilts his head, not knowing how to reply.
"Jisung," Minho pats the spot on the mattress beside him. "Please come here."
Jisung does, but reflexively looks up to the ceiling fan. Minho puts his hands on Jisung's cheeks and forces him to look down and towards him. Jisung, with squished cheeks, asks, "Why are you telling me that?"
Minho let's go of Jisung’s face and says, "Because it’s your fault."
“How? I didn’t even kiss you.”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “I really wanted you to, though.”
Jisung smiles so wide it hurts a bit. He tries to will his smile away while he asks, "Do you still?" but it doesn't work.
Minho smiles, too, and says, "I still really do."
**Author's Note:**
> so he does!
>
> another one i stole from myself and made a minsung fic. i spent too long editing this to not post it.
>
> thank you for reading :) please give kudos and comments if you liked it! <3 i'll smile until it hurts too |
dd6188aaa4be4f87a59a17a1b697e08a | ['117c49a8a9b144128518b11753f9f9e0'] | ”I uh, I haven’t seen Alex today and I wonder if you know where he is? Not that I really care, but he’s… well I haven’t seen him today, no I told you that already, sorry, uh… well he’s gone. Or not gone, he’s somewhere I can’t find him. And uh, you know, I thought that maybe you knew where he is. Shit – sorry – I don’t care though I’m just, curious?” Sean stuttered and slipped the tongue multiple times. Charles looked at him with a calm facial expression.
”You don’t have to pretend, my friend. I know what’s going on, I’m a telepath you know. I’ve known about this for a long time, ever since you started to have feelings for him. I think I knew before you even knew completely yourself. Don’t worry, Sean, I won’t judge.”
Sean could finally breathe and relax properly, he let out a relieved sigh and looked at him.
”So… do you know where he is?” he asked, still a bit nervous actually. Charles nodded.
”He’s training in his bunker, he’s been there all day. Go talk to him, it’s what you want. Now off you go, I’m a bit busy”, Charles said and blinked.
Sean nodded, said thank you and left Charles’ office.
As soon as he closed the door he started running, through the long corridors, down the stairs and out on the backyard. He ran as fast as he could, and when he reached the bunker he slowed down. He opened the big, heavy door and stepped inside. It was a bit chilly in there behind the thick, cement walls. Alex was behind closed doors, and the green light was blinking. Seemed like he was taking a rest. Sean hesitated for a second when he put his hand on the doorknob. Alex seemed upset this morning, what if Sean would get in danger when he got inside?
No. Alex would never hurt anyone. Never. Not after what happened in his past. Sean took a deep breath and stepped inside. Dark, burnt rings was all over the walls, ceiling and floor. Old and new. Alex sat with his back against the wall, knees up, arms resting on his knees, head resting on his arms, face down. Sean closed the door and took a step inside.
”I’m not hungry.” Alex said without looking up.
”Alex, it’s me.” Sean said with a sigh. He saw how Alex clenched his fists.
”Leave me alone.” Alex said between his teeth. Sean sighed loudly and threw his hands in the air for a sec, followed by them falling down his sides making a slapping sound.
”What’s the matter with you?” he asked, trying not to sound mad. Not quite yet. Alex looked up, he looked mad.
”What’s the matter with _me?!_ ” he hissed.
”Yes, YOU. What the fuck is the matter with _you?!_ ”, Sean hissed back. He sounded upset now. Alex stood up quickly. But before he said anything, Sean walked up to him, pointing at him.
”I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you and I don’t know if you remember, but this last you fucked me senseless! And you wake up, trying to pretend like it never fucking happened?! You haven’t talked to me since this morning, I haven’t seen your face since you left the room! I’ve walked around in the house, worried that Charles or Hank will say something negative about the situation. And you just _leave?!_ What the hell man, is our relationship and friendship going to be ruined because of some pointless sex?!”, Sean shouted. He was upset, so upset that tears burned in his eyes. Alex walked up to him and pointed at him.
”It was not pointless!” he shouted.
”It wasn’t pointless to me either!” Sean screamed. The boys got quiet. They just stood looking at each other. Then Alex looked away. He didn’t say anything. Sean took a breath, waiting for Alex to say something. But when it never happened, he waved his hand in the air and snorted.
”Fine, whatever. Fuck off”, he said and turned around and walked away.
”Sean wait…” Alex said with a tone that sounded disappointed, and filled with regret. Sean didn’t look at him, nor did he stop.
”Just… leave me alone. Just don’t bother.” and with those words he left the bunker.
Alex and Sean didn’t see each other or talk for days. Alex spent most of his time in the bunker, the rest of his time in his room. Sean was switching between being in his room and taking a smoke outside. Charles and Hank knew what was going on, and tried to convince them to talk. But neither Sean nor Alex listened. Alex felt bad. He felt really bad. He wanted to apologize, but at the same time he didn’t want to bother Sean. So he left him alone. At least for now. Alex felt like such a sissy when he lied in his room at night, crying. He just wanted Sean back. His best friend back, his special best bud. Their relationship. The kind of relationship he never had before, not with anyone.
Sean was confused. He had no idea what he wanted, he felt empty, rejected, hopeless. A part of him told him to let Alex go, they’re just going to end up hurting each other again. He wouldn’t be able to handle that. But the bigger part wanted Alex. Every single part of him. Sean had feelings for him, and he was hoping that Alex felt the same. But he didn’t find out. Alex was probably horny and sexually frustrated; he probably just wanted to fuck someone. Simple as that. Their lips never touched. It was just a sexual game, but not pointless. Alex had protested quickly when Sean said that it was pointless. None of them thought the sex was pointless. It really meant something. It must have, right? | b3134444474e4cbc90415bad78925000 | ['117c49a8a9b144128518b11753f9f9e0'] | A week and a half passed by. The boys hadn’t said a word to each other, not exchanged a single glance either for that matter. But one night, around 11 pm, Sean was going outside to take a walk around the mansion to get some fresh air before going to bed. Without thinking about it, he took a different route and passed by Alex’s room. And just when he walked outside his door, it opened. Alex stood in the doorway, but Sean kept walking. Alex grabbed his arm and looked down at the floor.
”Wait”, he said. The first word he said to him in almost two weeks. Sean didn’t snatch his arm away, but he didn’t turn around either. “We… I need to talk to you. Please, Sean. Just for a couple of minutes.”
Sean bit his lip, then turned around slowly.
”Please look at me, Sean…” Alex begged, his voice almost failed him. Sean didn’t want to be an annoying bitch, so he looked up. Alex’s eyes were filled with tears, looking at him with regret in his eyes.
”I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so fucking sorry. I knew I hurt you, and I’m the biggest idiot existing. But I was so scared Sean, I know it’s a crappy excuse, but it’s the truth. I was scared, stupid and blind. I was an idiot and, no I AM an idiot and-“
Sean cut him off by raising his hand.
”Stop”, he sighed and grabbed Alex’s shoulder.
”I-“, Alex began.
”No. Don’t say a word.” Sean commanded, and then he pushed him against the door. He fumbled with his hand after the doorknob, twisted it and the door flung open behind their weight. They both fell to the floor, Sean on top of Alex.
”Sean-“ Alex tried to speak again, but this time Sean put his hand over his lips.
”Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Sean said with a teasing tone. He slowly removed his hand from Alex’s lips. Their faces were so close that their nose tips touched.
”Close your eyes”, Sean whispered. Alex did as he was told, and Sean did the same. They linked their fingers together, Sean’s breath on Alex’s lips. Lying on top of each other, they felt every heartbeat. Their hearts rushed, and their palms were sweaty and warm. Then Sean took the step. Softly, gently he pressed his lips on Alex’s. His lower lip between Alex’s lips, it started off with a simple “lips to lips” kiss. But when Alex opened his mouth to breathe, he let his tongue slide looking for Sean’s. Their tongues touched, warm and wet. And the kiss turned into passionate kisses with tongue. Sean cupped Alex’s face with his hands, and Alex let his hands slide in under Sean’s hoodie. They lied on the floor, having their first kiss. Heart racing, hands fumbling, tongues touching. It was one of the best moments in their lives.
They didn’t open their eyes until they broke apart, finishing off by placing a soft kiss on each other’s lips. Sean’s hands still cupping Alex’s face, they looked into each other’s eyes.
”Please stay in here tonight”, Alex whispered. Sean smiled, nodded and placed a kiss on his right cheek. He stood up and pulled Alex up on his feet. They smiled to each other and hugged. It was okay now. Sean didn’t feel empty anymore. Nor rejected, nor hopeless. He felt appreciated. And he felt good.
They had sex again that night. But not rough, no screaming or hard words. Just passionate, kissing involved, gently letting their hands slide through each other’s hair and body. Calm, peaceful and comfortable sex. Afterwards they lied in Alex’s bed, Sean resting his head on Alex’s chest, his hand on his ribs. Alex had his arm around Sean’s shoulders, peacefully stroking Sean’s freckly arm.
”Alex?”, Sean said.
”Hm?”, Alex responded and placed a kiss on his head.
”I think I fucking love you.”, Sean said. Alex felt like his heart skipped a beat, and he licked his lips.
”You… you love me?”, he asked.
”I know, it’s insane. But I get this feeling when I think about you and see you. I think I’m in love with you dude.”
”It’s fucking crazy.”
Sean bit his lip, looked down.
”Y…yeah”, he said, almost regretting he told him that.
”But I think I’m in love with you too. No, I don’t think – I know. I know I’m in love with you. Sean, I fucking love you.”
A rush of relief went through him. More words than that weren’t needed. Sean smiled, tilted his head up and kissed him again. A kiss that was filled with love and passion. A kiss for Alex, his bud. His special best bud. |
25b7fe97139f48a5bc82cddd6a34cad4 | ['1186d07a9a26407d93fca6b976ccd464'] | Natasha had been into SHIELD for more than three years. She was finally able to gain her fellow agents' trust and be one of the best SHIELD agents. She had already accomplished making many friendships into the organization. But her best friend was that certain archer who had spared her life and given her one more chance to become someone better. They had come to a point that they even stayed at each others' apartments now and then, mostly after a common mission. They cared for each other and enjoyed each other's company. They even had their own 'Friday movie' habit.
Natasha reached her couch and placed a huge bowl of popcorn between her and her fellow assassin. "So what are we watching?" Clint asked.
"Well, to honor the day I think we should watch a romantic movie. And I chose the worst."
"What day is it?" Clint furrowed his eyebrows.
"It's the 14th of February. The _oh-so-overrated_ day for the _oh-so-much-in-love_ couples." She replied sarcastically.
"Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about it."
"So, are we watching my extremely cheesy movie?"
"I hate romantic movies so much. Of course we will."
"Great, I can't wait until the good part starts. Nothing is funnier than a romantic movie."
Natasha hit play and sat back to _enjoy_ her choice. The two spies spent the next two hours laughing and commenting every scene they thought was ridiculous. After the movie ended, Natasha hit pause and closed the TV.
"So, why don't you like this kind of movies? I thought girls like that." Clint wondered.
"Well, when you're raised to be a cold-blooded assassin without any kind of emotion, it's hard to like the most emotional movies ever made in the history of mankind. So yeah, not a big fan." Clint's phone started buzzing. He took a glance at it and put it away without bothering answering it. Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything you wanna share, Hawkeye?"
Clint shook his head negatively. "No, not really."
Natasha sat back and took a sip out of her beer. "C'mon, Barton. Say it."
He left a groan as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "There's this girl. And she... She kind of likes me, I think. And she keeps calling me and talking to me. But she's not my type and I can't get her to stop flirting with me." He admitted.
"You want me to take her out?" Nat offered coldly.
Clint widened his eyes at her. " _Kill her?_ "
"No, Clint. Take her out on a date." She teased him. "I mean... Do you want me to _take her out..._ "
Clint squinted at her. "You're... kidding, right?"
She couldn't keep herself anymore and burst into laughter. "Of course I do, but it's always amusing watching your confused face." She replied. "But seriously, though... You have to give her a chance. What do you have to lose?" She suggested.
"You think so?" Clint asked back, taking a shrug of her shoulders as a response.
"What's her name?"
"Laura."
Natasha smiled. "Nice name. Call her, Barton. But not today, it's a dangerous day for this kind of calls." She consulted him, giving him a smirk. Clint's phone started ringing again. "Is it her again? Well, that's some strong will."
"No, that's Coulson. They need Strike Team Delta."
"Well... That was a hell of a Valentine's Day."
**3\. Mission Gone Wrong**
It wasn't the first time a mission had gone south. It wasn't the first time they had to get separated during a mission. And it definitely wasn't the first time one of them was in danger. But it was the first time one of them was in _serious_ _danger_.
Natasha was running down the halls into a building, being chased by two agents. "Barton, do you copy? I took out three agents, two of them are still after me. Where are you?"
She called out. "Clint? Clint, do you copy?" She let out an irritated sigh. "You're such an asshole, Barton. Answer me!" A muffled groan came as a response. "Are you there, Clint?"
" _F-Four..._ "
"Four what?" She asked again, sliding beneath a desk in an attempt to hide from the agents.
" _Four agents, Nat. I'm... I'm surrounded._ "
Natasha held in a curse. "Are you hit?" She whispered.
" _Yes_."
"I'm coming, Clint. Don't move." She stated and ran away as soon as the agents lost her.
" _No, Nat..._ " He mumbled. " _Get the hell out of here, there's no way we can both make it out alive_."
"Shut up, Barton." She said harshly. "I'm not going anywhere without my best friend."
A laugh followed by a hissed groan sounded. " _I thought I was an asshole._ "
"You're _my asshole_ who also happens to be my best friend, so shut the hell up and save some energy 'cause I'm coming for you."
In a couple of minutes, Natasha was finally able to find the room Clint was hiding in, trying her best not to be noticed by the guards and trigger an alarm. She gracefully slid behind them, reaching her partner who was struggling to stay awake.
"Nat..?" He whispered as soon as he felt her hands on him.
"Shh... I'm here." She responded, her hands wandering all over his body, trying to find which one of his wounds was the worst and most dangerous. "Damn it, Clint. You've lost too much blood." She said under her breath. With a quick move, she tore a piece of her suit and swiftly wrapped it around his abdomen, applying pressure to the gunshot wound that wouldn't stop erupting blood.
"Hey, Nat... Stop it, there's-" He let out a dry cough. "There's no point."
"Shut up." She muttered as she kept pressing her hands against the wound. "You're going to be fine. There's no way I'm letting you die. Okay?"
"Just let go, Tash," Clint whispered weakly. "You need to leave _now_." | 4905d320265840a4a1758749ecb81c5f | ['1186d07a9a26407d93fca6b976ccd464'] | "I will. _With you_. You're not dying, Barton. Not today." She replied. "I contacted Coulson, you just need to hold on and we'll be fine as long as we keep quiet."
He put his hand on top of hers, brushing his thumb over her trembling hand. "Listen-"
"No, _you_ listen!" She muttered, trying her best not to be heard from the guards. "If you die today, I'll kill you. You get that? I'll find you wherever the hell you'll go after you die and I'll make sure that you're gonna die again in the worst way possible! Now shut up and stay strong because the extraction team is coming to get us and you'll be just fine."
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh in response. "I can't even die in peace..." He mumbled, a tiny grin escaping his mouth.
Natasha smirked back at him. "Jerk. You're not going to miss that date, Barton. No matter how much you're afraid of it."
"Shit, I thought you'd forgotten about it."
"Yeah, right. Did you really think I would forget about my only chance to get rid of your stupid ass?"
Clint let out a chuckle, wincing immediately in pain. "You can't get rid of me, Romanoff."
She ignored him. "As soon as we're back at the HQ, you're calling Laura, it's Valentine's Day. Be a gentleman."
Clint smiled. "If you say so..."
"And you're going to that date, Barton." She smiled at him but as soon as she glanced at her bloody hands she exhaled deeply. "I'll make sure you will." She mouthed.
**4\. The perfect suit**
Natasha was pacing outside the fitting rooms.
" _Could you stop that?_ " Clint's voice asked her from the inside.
"Stop what?"
" _Stop walking up and down outside my fitting room. It kind of drives me crazy!_ " He replied.
"Sorry, I'm just nervous." She replied, biting her bottom lip.
" _You're nervous? I'm the one who's getting married!_ " Natasha just shrugged in response. " _Did you just shrug?_ "
"How can you even see what I'm doing?"
Clint felt out a chuckle. " _Did you forget who I am, Romanoff?_ "
"Just get out, Barton." She muttered.
" _Why the rush? Do you have any plans?_ "
"I don't like the tone, Barton. Besides, you know how I feel about Valentine's Day."
" _Oh, yeah yeah... I know your hatred towards the day_." He peeked his head out of the curtain. "Maybe if you meet someone special you'll stop being so bitchy about it." He teased her.
Natasha laughed. "Yeah, right... Shut up and get dressed. I want to see how you look." She told him as she continued wandering around the shop, staring at the tuxedos and wedding dresses around her.
" _I look like I normally look when I'm wearing a tux, Romanoff. It's nothing special. I don't see the point of trying it out._ "
"Just get out here, Hawkeye."
" _You know, it would be nice if you didn't shout my code name when we're not on missions._ "
Natasha laughed. "No one is here, your secret is safe." She said playfully.
"Here I am." Natasha turned around and glanced at the archer. He was right. It was nothing special. The tux wasn't any different than the other costumes he had worn during missions. But _he_ was different. Natasha found herself staring at her friend, her stomach feeling sick as a wave of panic hit her. And suddenly, everything she thought she knew, everything she thought she felt changed. And in front of her wasn't her best friend standing.
"Terrible." She teased him, brushing off her mind her thoughts.
Clint furrowed his eyebrows. "You think?"
Natasha let out a chuckle. "You look great, Clint." She reassured him. She turned around again and glanced at the wedding dresses. "How can people wear these?"
"Oh, c'mon Nat. They're beautiful." He approached her.
"Not my type of clothing, though." She muttered.
"I bet you look great in it," Clint stated, taking one dress out of its hanger.
"I highly doubt that." Clint raised an eyebrow at her, making her roll her eyes. "Fine, I'll try it." She mumbled and grabbed the dress out of Clint's hands, heading to a dressing room. " _Just to show you how ridiculous I'll look!_ " She added.
Clint waited right outside her dressing room, leaning on the wall, hands inside his tuxedo's pockets. "Are you ready already?"
The curtain moved and Natasha walked out, looking more gorgeous than ever. "Yes." She muttered.
Clint shifted, taking his hands off his pockets and staring at her, words failing to describe how flawless she looked with her messy red hair falling on her shoulders and her toned silhouette showing as the wedding dress hugged her body, cupping every curve and leaving her whole back uncovered.
"Wow, Barton. You could _at least_ say I don't look _that_ hideous, I'm taking it off."
"No, Tash." He grabbed her hand, pulling her back as she was heading back to the fitting room. He pulled her closer to him, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "You look..." He stopped for a moment. He couldn't find the right words. She looked up at him, right into his warm eyes. "I think I'm in love." He whispered.
Natasha opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by the woman who worked in the shop. "Whoa, look at you two! I think you're the most beautiful couple that has ever come in here! And you look so in love, I'm jealous!" She exclaimed happily.
The two spies almost immediately pulled apart. "Oh, no!" Natasha said. "We're not..."
"We're not a couple," Clint said.
"Yeah, yeah. We're not. I'm his friend. And he's getting married." Natasha tried to explain.
"I am. And she's helping me pick a tuxedo." He added.
"And we were kind of messing around with the dresses here." |
f48783befc234b539b2ab2efc44615ab | ['118d2d5ce0da4689878727cfcf65ec41'] | You Really Spin My Fidget, Odin
**Author's Note:**
> Im so sorry. Duma save us. The sexy bits start in chapter 2
Leo got many gifts today. His favorite one, while he didn’t realize it at first, was the fidget spinner that Takumi gifted to him. “I saw it and thought of you.” Takumi told him with a slight smile. It was fake. At first Leo was opposed to it, but once he slammed his index finger down on one of the sides, he was hooked. He played with it while unwrapping his other presents subconsciously, and even during brunch he kept spinning under the table.
Odin didn't like this.
Probably because Takumi gave it to him. Odin never liked Takumi, even though he never did anything to give him a valid reason for this hatred. Odin was a bit too clingy to Leo, being his retainer as well as his lover.
Odin grabbed Leo’s hand under the table. “Don't you think it's time to stop?” He says in a hushed voice, starring Leo in those, sexy auburn eyes of his. Leo stared back, flabbergasted that Odin would do such a thing as to stand up to him like that in front of his family. He found it sexy, especially since the only place he was dominant was in the privacy of his bedroom.
“Odin, being so ferocious with me.. and outside of the bedroom?” Leo whispers back, a growl in his voice. Odin took his hand away, blushing, still looking in his hypnotic eyes, and down to the smirk on his lips, his perfect, kissable lips. They were parted slightly, and if Odin had even less self control, he would have kissed him right there at the table. No, ON the table. It's been days, especially since he wanted to make tonight special. He wanted to make today special and spend it with the perfect man. Hiding his emotions with an indignance, he turned his face away and continued to eat.
Not even ten seconds later he heard the faint whir of the fidget spinner under the table. “UGH” Odin dramatically moans as he slams his hands against the table, gets up, and storms off.
“What's up with him?” Corrin asks Leo.
“He seems to be annoyed with my fidget spinner.” Leo replies, holding its still spinning blades up.
Corrin giggles. “Maybe he wants one too. Isn’t his birthday coming up as well?”
“Ah, that might be the problem.” Leo says back, eating his food.
“I better make sure he's okay.” Laslow said, knowing his best friend's habits and when something is wrong. He got up and followed him to his room. “What's wrong?” Laslow questions. Odin was lying on his bed, and didn’t respond. “What you did back there wasn't the most acceptable behavior for a retainer.”
He loses his normal dramatic tone. “I know. shut up Lazzy.” He pouted with anger, still laying away from him.
Laslow sits on the end of his bed. “Sit up, Odin. Talk to me.” He says with concern in his voice. Odin complies and looks at frowns at him.
“I don't see what he sees in that thing!” Odin yells, throwing his hands up in despair, voice nearly cracking. “Ya know he barely payed attention to my gift because he was spinning his little fucking fidget fucker and I really want to fucking throw that thing into the Bottomless Pit because I am already sick of that faint whir it makes. And you know what else? Fuck Takumi.”
“It's okay, Owain, I'm here.” Laslow pats his hand on his back.
He furrows his brow and pouts, “Don't call me that.” He jerks his body so Laslow would stop patting him and he folds his arms, looking away.
Laslow sighs. “That's going to get you nowhere I'm simply trying to help.” He holds out his arms. “Hug me you fool.”
Odin looks at Laslow's arms and then hugs him, putting his face in his neck. “Sorry for getting angry, bro.”
“It's okay. I'm here.” They sit there like that for a few minutes. “Odin, no homo but your hair smells nice.”
Odin lets go. “What the fuck Laslow.”
“What it's true!” he says back.
“Not that. The ‘no homo’ bit what the fuck.”
He changes the conversation. “Hey let's go apologize and finish brunch.”
“Laslow… okay.” | 489c06214dce42e4a5c15bd48655f14f | ['118d2d5ce0da4689878727cfcf65ec41'] |
Command Me To Be Well
**Author's Note:**
> this is probably the first serious thing i've ever posted also rd endgame got me fucked up fucking fuck... how is sephiran not written as bi please argue with me.
>
> also feel free to leave advice to improve my writing bc i mostly draw lol
“Your brand is nothing for you to fear, my sweet.” Sephiran’s voice rang in a murmur, just barely loud enough for Zelguis to hear. He traced his long, frail fingers over the brand on his back.
“But my lord,” he paused, “it has caused me so much pain, how can I not be scared of it?” He tried to repress memories of hateful glances and being ignored--the unspoken conduct all laguz regarded him with… the looks upon the faces of beorc being offended to be in his presence. He regarded himself as a disgrace. But Sephiran… Sephiran knew this pain as well. He knew that a laguz would lose their powers upon procreating with a beorc. Though different, they were the same.
Sephiran stood up and hovered over Zelgius, sitting on a bench, and kissed the back of his head. “Dear Zelgius, there is no shame when you are with me. Be free of those thoughts as I do. You are my salvation; it is so,” he mumbled into the back of his head. Zelgius closed his eyes. He would do as his master so easily requested. “All of my descendants are Branded as you know. I wish for them to be as they are but people fear them. The words of the goddess coming from a Branded would enrage them but I wish so, so much for people to accept Branded as people; as for the beorc to the laguz and the laguz to the beorc. I wish this endless fight would cease. There.. I…” Strength belittled him and his posture collapsed over Zelgius, arms resting on Zelgius’s sturdy build. He could feel Sephiran’s body shudder and quake with quiet, soft sobs. Zelguis let him. He knew this pain. He had thought over it so much over his seemingly long life. He was also aware Sephiran had even more time to think about this, and he talked of this peace often. So for him to lose composure like this really showed how strong their trust was.
“May I hold you?” His lord master asked him, still on his shoulders, face still in his hair. His soft voice was muffled in the deep blue.
“My lord, I am yours. See fit to whatever you like.” Sephiran regained the ability to stand on his own to sit beside Zelgius and hold him around his waist. Zelguis wrapped his arm around his lover’s thin waist and rubbed his hand up and down his clothed chest. His bare skin melted once again to Sephirans touch--his intoxicating touch.
“I love you so much…” A silent tear ran down his face onto Zelgius’s stomach.
“I love you, too. I’m here for you. Please know this.”
“As am I, my dear, dear, sweet love.”
They were then silent, holding each other under the window that let in the pale moonlight. Zelgius cast a shadow over Sephiran’s face, covered with his own hair.
“Will you meet me in my quarters. I don’t want to sleep without you by my side tonight,” Sephiran asked him.
“Yes my lord,” he replied simply.
With that, Sephiran saw himself out. Zelgius knew he would see him again in a moment, but couldn’t feel that a part of him had left him. His heart longed for Sephiran. Not only was he one of the only people to show him respect as a person, but he loved him so much that it hurt. His sweet kisses that lingered like a melody, his pale eyes that could see into his soul, his lanky figure that he could wrap his entire self around; he was so precious.
Zelgius rose and put on a black shirt. He could never bare to wear white for fear his brand would show through the sheer color. He then left for Sephiran’s quarters. It was a short walk from the general’s living space to the duke’s. He rapped on his door.
A moment passed before a reply, “Who is it?” Zelgius had wondered why he asked that when he knew he was coming.
He decided to play along for whatever reason. “It’s General Zelgius.” The door unlocked and opened with no one there. He walked in. Sephiran’s room was grand with paintings on the wall and cut flowers in scattered vases. A large bed was the centerpiece of the room, dark curtains draped over it. Sephiran appeared from behind the door, closed it, and locked it. Aching, black wings stretched out from his unclothed back. He walked past the lovestruck Zelgius towards his bed, his flowing pants sashaying with his elegant walk. Sephiran sat on his bed and looked to his love with inviting eyes. He walked to him and kneeled before him. He grabbed him around the waist and pressed his face to Sephiran. He was towering, yet so tiny. Soft fingers ran through Zelgius’s hair as calloused fingers longingly made their way up Sephiran’s back. Curiously, he made a gentle approach to touch the base of his wings. Sephiran let out a soft cry as his entire being tremored.
Zelgius retracted his hand immediately. His voice filled with worry. “Did I hurt you?”
Sephiran laughed softly and fondly looked down to him. “No.. they are very sensitive but not easily hurt.” Zelgius looked at them. They slightly arched up over his shoulders and were draped over his arms. They didn’t go past his waist. Zelgius had seen bird laguz before. In comparison, they were crumpled and short from decades of being concealed and bound in his clothes. His onyx feathers were thin like him and very sad to look at. It looks as if the feathers were constantly clipped too, probably to fit them in robes. Zelgius always avoided questions about his wings as he felt it rude to pry, but words escaped him.
“Can you fly?”
“No.”
Zelgius looked down, ashamed that he asked. He could feel his heart swell out of anger. How could he be so rude to him after all he has done?
“Please. I see it in your heart. I am not offended by your innocence.” Zelgius pondered at that word choice. He lost his innocence long ago with his childhood and now his world is bathed in blood. There was nothing innocent within him. He disgusted himself. “Zelgius…” Sephiran saw himself in Zelgius. Centuries of disgust, but he could let it go when he was with Zelgius. He longed for him to feel the same but his mortal soul had been clouded. “For me… Love yourself as I love you. You cannot hurt me so please don’t worry. You can ask about my wings I don’t mind.” He smiled tenderly.
Zelgius mumbled something into Sephiran’s abdomen. He hummed questioningly. He lifted his piercing green eyes to meet his love’s. “You're so beautiful.”
“And so are you.” With that, Zelgius stood up and pushed Sephiran gently into the bed and kissed him. He spread his wings out across the sheets and grabbed his lovers nape to bring him deeper. Zelgius grabbed his shoulders and tugged at his bottom lip. Sephiran’s other hand made its way to the man’s defined chest. He grabbed one of his firm pectorals and traced his thumb repetitively over it. They moaned into each other’s mouths. Sephiran’s eyes welled with faint tears again just from his lovers touch--it was unbearable but oh, so sweet. Zelgius raised his head, the hand on his neck fell. He fixated on his jet wings, digging into the bed. He reached one of his hands to a wing and pet it. They were so soft, even after years of lacking care. Sephiran trembled again upon the touch, biting his lip. He was so beautiful, sprawled out on his own bed; flushed and avoiding eye contact. Zelgius got a lump in his throat. He was right; he could see it now. All pain could go away with love. That’s why he was so devote. This was the reason right here.
As the morning light faded in, they held each other under sheets. Sephiran rose from pleasant dreams and clothed himself, contotring his wings once again so he could show his pained face in public. He wishes it could just be them in the world with no pain and suffering, but even then, he foresees Zelgius’s death. The world is cruel. |
1a60c603e2d44ca49fa4db3de0911713 | ['11925bfa34c749f9aad49277b1bf6b97'] | Chagrined, Dean nodded, swallowing. He paced into his office and shut the door, staring at his computer and phone. This was exactly where he needed to be and the one place he didn’t _want_ to be. Right now was the perfect time to call Castiel. The perfect time to check in with his new Dom. Hell, he probably already had a massive black check mark next to his name given it was nearly noon and he hadn’t called the man. He swallowed rapidly, wondering how Castiel sounded when angry. Did he shout or did his voice lower and turn to ice?
He sat down gingerly, his heart pounding. Instead of using the work phone, he dug out his cell and found Castiel’s listing. His finger hovered over the bright digits and squeezing his eyes shut, he jabbed his finger down, hoping he hit the right button. He opened one eye, to see “dialing…” lit up in green letters.
He held his breath and lifted it to his ear, hoping to _God_ that Castiel wouldn’t answer. Not surprisingly, God was ignoring him today.
“ _Good morning, this is Castiel._ ”
Dean’s breath left in a pop of air and he blurted, “I should have called earlier; I’m sorry!” His hand clenched spastically atop the arm of his chair and he jiggled his foot, waiting for the agreement. He’d always been told to contact Michael at 10:05 every morning if he hadn’t spent the night with the man. To the minute. For all of Castiel’s assurances, he _still_ should have found out the proper time.
“ _Dean? Please tell me you’re sitting down,_ ” he murmured.
Confused, Dean leaned back and made a small noise of assent. He shifted again, licking his lips. “I should have asked last night. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –“
“ _Dean. Please, stop._ ” Castiel sighed. “ _I should have realized how much they controlled you._ ” He cleared his throat. “ _I might have given you a name last night, Dean, but this was not an order. I merely wished for you to call me so that I knew you had a pleasant time. Not a reprimand. And if I felt you_ needed _to call me at a specific time, I should have stated that. I apologize for misleading you._ ”
Dean blinked. Why would Castiel have anything to be sorry for? It was Dean who always managed to miss what his Dom needed. _Dean_ was the one who’d fucked up; not Castiel. He wanted to say as much but for the first time, the words failed him and he merely swallowed, staring sightlessly ahead.
Castiel chuckled over the line, though the sound came across sad rather than amused. “ _Dean, I do not expect you to read my mind._ Ever _._ ” He hummed. “ _Where are you?_ ”
“My office.”
“ _Good. It’s clear you’re having an anxiety attack. I want you to remain on the phone with me until your heart rate is slow again and you’re breathing calmer._ ” Oddly, Dean could almost see the patient smile on the man’s lips. “ _I realize we didn’t talk much last night. So, would you mind telling me what it is you do, Dean?_ ”
Stunned, Dean stared at the screensaver on his computer. He sat back by degrees, the leather chair creaking under his hips. He glanced at his left hand, startled to see his knuckles standing out white as he gripped the arm. His skin felt fever hot and his blood pounded in his ears. “Um. Auto restoration. I . . . own a place with my uncle. Er, sort-of uncle.”
“ _That sounds like a story._ ” Castiel’s voice was silky soft and warm. Like eddies of a lake. “ _I would like to hear it, if that’s all right._ ”
“It’s . . . not much to tell, really,” he mumbled. He licked his lips again, trying to beat back the urge to chew on them. “He was a friend of my dad’s. He used to watch over me and my brother when Dad would go on benders. Took us in when Dad died.” He sat back, sinking into his chair, his hand loosening against the arm rest. “Helped me and Sam out,” he finished. There was a great deal more to that story but Castiel likely didn’t need or want to hear all the dirty secrets. All it would do is color his already poor perception of Dean, most likely.
“ _I can tell by the state of your Impala that restoration is something you have a knack for,_ ” Castiel remarked. Dean could hear the quiet click of keys and the occasional rustle of paper. It was then he realized he’d likely caught Castiel at work.
Immediately, panic welled up again and he lunged forward. “Shit, Cas. I’m calling you at work, aren’t I?” He began to ramble off more apologies but Castiel’s warm voice halted him.
“ _Dean, I_ asked _you to call me today. Today is a work day. I’d be cruel to be angry with you for calling me at work._ ” Castiel fell silent for a moment. “ _Besides, I enjoy your voice, Dean. You are a very . . . enthusiastic man. You have passion in your voice. It’s refreshing._ ”
Dean screwed up his face and without thinking remarked, “Only opera singers have passion in their voices.” He winced and slapped his hand to his forehead.
Castiel’s genuine laugh startled him. “ _And there is, of course, that. You’re combative. Also enjoyable._ ”
Dean squinted. “You _like_ that I mouth off?”
“ _Dean, I’m not interested in a slave. I don’t want you silent and beautiful. As a Dom, I want someone who will give over to me but is also independent._ ” He clucked his tongue. “ _Besides, if I find you saying something I don’t care for, I’ll be sure to correct you._ ” | d6ed7cb464a4432c85e5bc3a9c7fbe5b | ['11925bfa34c749f9aad49277b1bf6b97'] | “By Eru you have a smart mouth,” Thranduil snapped. He rose from his chair and swung around the desk, striding toward Bard. He had changed his clothes since the morning and now wore light gray slacks and a pale blue collared shirt, the triangle of his neck and chest bare but for the peek of a silver chain. He halted a foot from Bard and folded his arms across his chest. “Double and hands off.”
The last made his brow wrinkle again. “Hands off?”
Thranduil quirked a brow though his mouth remained a tight, thin line. “Hands off in that _you_ reserve the right to choose which shoots I present. But, it is an _exclusive_ contract and you will _not_ shoot with any other photographer or client but those I have approved.” He smirked and leaned in. “Have we a deal, Bowman?”
He thought again of the dollar figure Thranduil had quoted him. Double that and he’d have all Sigrid’s tuition paid _and_ Bain’s. Maybe get them out of their shitty two-bedroom house. Get him away from the Master. His gut twisted but he swallowed and nodded.
“Deal.”
“Good. Arrive tomorrow morning _here_ at eight. I will have the updated contract ready for your signature.” He grinned, teeth gleaming. “Oh, and expect another long day. You will have quite the tasks ahead of you, Bard.”
When Thranduil’s eyes narrowed in triumph, Bard thought, _By the Valar, I hope I didn’t just fuck up._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Aw, look at the gross canon husbands yell at each other. :D BET YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO THRANDUIL'S GARDENER IS!
>
> LINK.
3. Chapter 3
Bard set down his carrying case and let out a breath, air puffing white in the chill morning. He wasn’t certain if Eredhon had been serious about his archery gear but he’d not had much chance to use it in recent years so it had been easy enough to drag it along. Granted, all that was moot given he had to sever ties with the Master first.
Elrond’s check burned in his back pocket, proof of his ability to pay off the loan. While it was more than what he owed, he’d happily sign it _all_ over to the bastard if it meant he’d never walk into this place again. He just hoped this promised salary of Thranduil’s would kick in soon, else it’d be another tight month.
He shouldered his way into the garage, somewhat relieved to see only Percy at the break table. It being just past six, the other drivers were either already on the road or not yet in. He halted in the doorway, glancing around and wondered briefly if he’d miss the place. Until the unmistakable odor of gasoline and rotten garbage assailed him.
_Never mind,_ he grimaced.
Percy gave him a sour grin and muttered, “Alfrid decided we needed to cut back on the number of garbage pickups.” He held up his hands, using finger quotes. “For _efficiency_.” He dropped his hands and frowned at Bard’s case. “You moving in?”
Bard chuckled and shook his head, hefting the case and setting it on the table. “It’s . . . I need it for later.” He tugged off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat. “Alfrid in?”
Percy’s lip curled. “Where else would the little weasel be?”
_Now or never._ He took a look at his watch. Plenty of time before he was expected at Thranduil’s office. And he didn’t necessarily _need_ to do this. Thranduil’s amended contract was waiting to be signed. Elrond’s check certainly wasn’t conditional. He could avoid all this crazy modelling bullshit and go back to driving.
But dammit, the money. He’d make more than he’d seen in all his career of menial jobs. He could pay Sigrid’s tuition. Get Bain that game system he wanted. Actually _give_ his children things for once. Maybe even get a house that didn’t creak at the slightest breeze.
_Just means I have to trade one asshole for another._ Though, as assholes went, Thranduil was easier on the eyes. Small comfort.
He knocked on Alfrid’s office, pushing it open at the nasally “ _Enter_.”
Alfrid squinted at him and sneered. “Shouldn’t you be out driving?”
It was with some satisfaction he slapped the sheet of paper on Alfrid’s desk. “I quit,” he stated.
The other man picked up the sheet, his eyes narrowing over the resignation. “You forget, you _owe_ the Master quite a –“ he halted when the check appeared.
“Twenty thousand. Signed over. My debt is cleared.”
He could nearly see the greed oozing from Alfrid’s pores. The bastard picked up the check and scanned it, smirking. “I didn’t realize you were for sale.”
Bard stiffened. “What?”
“I’ve heard the elves like to buy up . . . companions, never figured you for the type, Bowman.” He leaned back and fanned his face with the check. “And Peredhel at that? So much for integrity, hm?”
His temper spiked, though, he clamped down on it quickly. Let Alfrid think him some bedmate for an elf. Given Thranduil’s attitude, he certainly _felt_ bought. He folded his arms and jerked his head toward the check. “Slate cleared, right?”
Alfrid scowled at Bard’s lack of a fight. “ _Fine._ ” He pulled out an old ledger book and drew his finger along the sheet. “Bard Bowman. Balance owed: _zero._ ” He scratched out Bard’s name and tucked the check into the ledger. Alfrid leaned back in his chair, the lewd grin back. “I’m sure if this elf gets tired of you, the Master can be _persuaded_ to take you back.”
Bard clenched his jaw. “Not that I don’t _trust_ you, Alfrid, but a receipt would be appreciated.” |
8f84871048364a56b6c5021183d36198 | ['119bcc900a764b4ab4597f1d5ad83997'] | Red Wine
All evening your attention had been on him, it was near impossible to ignore his presence, especially after the alcohol got involved. He had proven himself especially skilled as a subtle yet confident flirt before dinner, a talent he continued all the way through dessert. The zipper on his jacket had been teasing you for hours, taunting you to pull it down and take the opportunity to explore him further. Perhaps it was the wine or maybe just the all-consuming vibes he had been giving off but a coy and curious anticipation had started to tingle across your skin. As the last of the dinner guests retreated outside to enjoy the rest of the dinner guests retreated outside to enjoy their drinks, you noticed he was staring directly at you.
“Come here Darling...” he said in almost a whisper.
You knew what he was suggesting by his sheer determination to finish his glass of wine and the fact that his intense eye contact never broke away from you. He placed his empty glass down, and pulled you onto his lap the second you arrived at his chair. His hand stayed on your thigh as he braced you against him, giving you a little squeeze, the shivers it caused involuntarily drawing you closer towards him. You finally got hold of that damn jacket zipper, and slowly moved it all the way down to his waist. Your hand lingered, flattered and intrigued by what was emerging there. He bit at his lower lip and arched an eyebrow before his mouth vigorously crashed into yours.
His hands were now sliding all the way up your leg and it wasn’t long until he was teasing you where it counted most. His well rehearsed fingers combined with his fucking magical tongue was getting you closer to the edge with every dip and twirl. As he pushed you up onto the table, you somehow managed to remove his jacket and undo his shirt, revealing the perfect body to match the face. He only broke contact with you for a moment in order to pop open his button fly and release the tension that had been hardening his jeans.
His tongue went back to work only this time as the encore to his fingers. Your hands moved themselves into his hair while the sensation he was creating arched your back and lead you to impatiently writhe with pleasure. As if your squirms where a signal he grabbed your hips and pulled you back to the edge of the table, knocking flatware and napkins off in his haste. Still gripping your hip he positioned himself at your entrance and guided himself inside with one long thrust. He let out a low and guttural groan as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in again. As he repeatedly filled you with his entirety, your whispered whimpers seemed to echo his raspy moans as you developed a rhythm of grinding and pumping. Almost Instinctively his hand ran its way through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes, and then lowering himself back on you, nibbling and slowly sucking on your lip. You could barely hold on any longer was you began to sense the tiny spasms course through every inch of your body. He quickened his pace, his arms and abdomen tightening as his cock deepened with immediate release. His lips were slightly parted, teeth gritted as his chest heavily rose and fell.
“I’m Richard by the way,” he finally managed to say after catching his breath.
“My god,” I muttered and smiled, “you sure do make one hell of introduction.” | c7c42e4ece0b4bb7839578dd019222e5 | ['119bcc900a764b4ab4597f1d5ad83997'] |
The Tremendous Tractor
We had set out from the main house that morning with every intent to mend the tractor that had rendered itself useless right outside the old barn. As we made our way through the fields, a gentle rain began to fall which caused the little hills in our path to become slick with wet grass. It didn’t take long for the slippery slope to claim a victim and I soon found myself dappled in mud with a very amused Richard attempting to make his way down to me amongst his laughter.
“You know babe, it’s a good thing you’re hot because your sensitivity in life threatening situations leaves little to be desired.” I sarcastically muttered at him when he safely made it down the hill.
“You slid four feet down a hill sweetheart, you know that my sensitive side only kicks in after a distance greater than five feet.” He retorted in a sweet and mocking sort of way.
I couldn’t help but smile and roll my eyes at him while he helped me up, making sure to smear the mud from my hands down one side of his cheek. He smiled and nodded his head, knowing that he probably deserved that. Hoping to avoid a full on mud war, he offered me his back as a truce which I hopped onto willingly and we continued down the path to the barn and the afternoon of work that lay before us. By the time we arrived at our destination any remnants of the sun were gone, covered by dark clouds. Richard lowered me to the ground and headed over to the tractor to analyze the damage. I casually leaned against it, knowing that I would be little to no help at this point in time. After only a few minutes I noticed that he had stopped and was looking at me, his breath visible in the cold air. As he stood up, I followed suit, removing myself from the side of the tractor and placed my freezing hands inside the pockets of jacket.
Perhaps it was the deep rumble of thunder over head, or maybe it was the way the damp drizzle had saturated the earth, the hay and the old wood, concocting a primal scent all around us. Or, it may have been the fact that our wet, mud streaked bodies where dangerously close, doing their best to grasp on to each other’s warmth. Whatever it was, the intoxicating mixture pulsated through our veins and caused our lips to lose their fight at remaining separated from each other. The impact from his body on mine pushed us against the barn door, leading it to wildly fly open which in turn resulted in us crashing down onto the hay ridden ground inside.
He quickly positioned himself more comfortably on top of me, and I watched his hair fall into his eyes which seemed to have only darken with desire. His intent was determined, urged on by the deepening of his kisses and movements against me. I reciprocated with the same sense of urgency, finding a balance between rigorously sucking his bottom lip and allowing him full access with his tongue. He soon left my swollen lips and made his way over to my neck, nibbling from my ear down to my clavicle. Careful not to play all his cards at once, his hand soon found its way under my shirt, the tips of his fingers delicately teased me, my skin electrified by his touch. I restlessly clambered at his jacket and somehow managed to slide it off of him.
Understanding my impatience at how fully clothed we still were, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it behind him. His attention quickly went back to me. He was sitting back on his heels in between my legs and with one finger he summoned me to sit up, my body instinctively obeyed. His hand gripped the back of my neck as he lowered his mouth to me ear.
“Baby, I’m going to need you to take your shirt off.” His voice was low and gritty as his hand slid from behind my neck to my chin, tilting it up so I could see him slowly drag his teeth across his lower lip. ‘Fuck’ was the only word that my brain could process and turns out it was the only thing that Richard could think of too.
As I removed my shirt and threw it on top of his, Richard sat up on his knees to release the buttons in order to remove his jeans, the denim increasingly tightening around what he was about to offer me. I leaned forward and began to slowly rub him, making sure to entice his whole length, teasing his earlobe with my tongue, knowing that it drove him utterly crazy. That little trick never failed and within seconds he had laid me back on the musty barn floor and had somehow gotten my leggings off at the same time. He wasted no time in preparing me and slid down between my legs gripping my hip with one hand he slipped a finger and his skillful tongue inside me. My body instantly responded to the sensations he was creating, my hips squirmed and pushed up harder against his mouth, his facial hair adding more pleasure and causing me to desperately let out a laboured whimper. He knew he was good at this, too good and I could feel a smile creep across his face amid the drawn out sucks and quick flicks.
“Oh...my, god...Richard.” I managed to murmur breathlessly, “baby...you seriously need to---” I was cut off by his lips back on mine and the touch of his tip at my entrance. He looked down, in order to adjust, then gently but oh so purposefully pushed his way into me. A deep muffled groan escaped his lips as he buried his face in the side of my neck and began to glide in and out in smooth successions. His breath was hot against the skin of my neck and I wrapped my legs around his waist, craving every last bit of him.
His thrusts where becoming increasingly intense. He placed his hands on both sides of my face, locking our eyes together, a completely new sense of vulnerable intimacy coursed through me, he was commanding every inch of me in a way I had never known before. His lips crashed harshly back into mine, our moans desperately spilling into each other's and I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer at this pace. He must have sense my rapidly approaching unhinging and pulled out, breathing heavily, his abdomen tensing with each inhale. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, leaving bits of straw and dust in its wake and pointed to an empty horse stall.
Grabbing an old piece of rope he positioned my against the siding of the stall. Running his hands up my naked torso, he lifted my arms above my head and used the rope to tie my wrists to a wooden peg above us. We immersed ourselves in each others lips once again while his hands ran down the entirety of my back. He stopped one at my ass and gripped it tightly, the other continued its way down the back of my leg, raising it up so he could push himself inside me once again. The experience of his thrusts this time where quite different, he was more controlled and rigid in his motion, his muscles stiffening all around me. He had turned my soft whimpers into lusty moans which caused a beautifully naughty smile to spread across his face, enjoying the fact that he was completely igniting my body with pleasure.
Lifting my other leg up off the ground, leaving me only able to hold on to the peg above me, he slowed his pace down to long and deliberate. He was being such a tease, knowing that I desperately needed him to slam into me but having no means to touch or coax him into doing so. With every dip in and out his mouth would open slightly and never quite close, emitting a soft groan from his throat. I had no control, it was all Richard, dictating my ecstasy and it was causing me to teeter on the edge, more than willing to succumb to him in a matter of moments.
"I'm so close...." He said, "can you be my good girl and cum for me…” he hoarsely growled.
This simple demand was all it took and we both lost ourselves in each other’s release. Still trembling from the shock waves he had sent through me, he placed me back on the ground and loosened the rope from above, allowing us to lay on the ground and come down from our high.
“So is that what you had in mind when you said you needed me to help you with some manual labor?” I jokingly asked, comfortably resting my head on his bare chest.
“Well, we never did get to the tractor so perhaps we will have to come back another day…and try to mend it then too....” His voice trailed off and he instantly broke into a fit of laughter, pulling me tighter into his arms where I remained for the rest of the afternoon. |
a3060438b5784fd98ccb8644f0a7bb46 | ['11b9e14af1c74e02abc3780eacede802'] |
You Called
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you to Panda and Meraxes on the Widomauk server for coming up with this idea and letting me run with it. And to Star God as well for the second portion! Y'all are awful influences and I love ya
Molly smirks as he picks up his buzzing phone, a bit excited to see a call coming in from his favorite wizard. The ID photo is of the ginger-haired man with his cat curled up over his shoulders like a scarf, the visage one would find if they ever found their way to his house; a rare invitation indeed, and a phone call rarer still.
But when Molly flicked the answer button on the screen and brought the device to his ear, he was shocked to hear the panting and heaving on the other end of the line. Obviously Caleb didn't mean to call him right at that moment. Of course not. And Molly's logical brain tells him to hang up and not mention it unless Caleb brings it up first, and to brush it off after.
"Nng.... Molly..." The slightly strangled moan draws Molly's ear more and he gasps into his hand.
Oh.
"Mister Caleb, what a surprise to get a call from you!" Molly blurts out against his better judgement. There's a startled yelp on the other end of the line and an audible fumbling of the phone.
"J-ja, hallo, ah... Mollymauk," Caleb stammers out, panting into the phone still. "S-sorry, I must have, ah, called you by accident. I was... um…"
"Oh, no trouble, dear, were you in the middle of something?" Molly asks innocently. "If you're busy I can let you get back to it." There's an audible hitch of breath through the phone and Molly stifles a chuckle.
"Nein, no, I was just sitting at home," Caleb mutters. "Ah... You know what, we should get lunch with everyone tomorrow, ja? We have not had time to hang out with everybody lately."
"That sounds like an excellent idea!" Molly grins, finishing the phone call with set plans to meet with the rest of their friends the following day.
* * *
Caleb scrambles to remove his hand from his cock as his phone starts ringing off the table, an alert to the video call request coming in. He intended on declining the request, but stalls as his fingers hover over the unmistakeable image of a particular purple tiefling he had just been fantasizing about. The lump in his throat threatens to choke him as he hits the "accept" button and pulls the phone to his face, hiding his nude form from sight of the camera.
"Hello, Caleb! Sorry for calling so late," Molly's voice chimes through the phone. "I just wanted to say I had a lovely time seeing everyone and I'm so glad you suggested we all go out to eat together."
"Ja, it was nice," Caleb agrees, trying (and probably failing) to hide his interest in just how much of Molly's collarbone was exposed. Earlier at the lunch with their group of friends, Caleb had trouble keeping his eyes off of Molly, who had been strolling around in nothing but a pair of skin-tight pleather pants (how on Exandria could he slide into those things?) and a very loose fitting tank top that kept dropping a strap off one of his shoulders. Caleb had resolved to avoid discussing the phone call aside from the planning of the lunch get-together (Molly had continued to insist on it being a group date).
"I was just unwinding," Molly continues, the frame of the video call dropping slightly; Caleb presumed he was propping it up on his desk or table at his own place, but he was mistaken. Molly's hair now surrounds his head like a purple halo on his pillow, his jewelry already removed for the evening and horns gleaming with wax. And, as he seemed to be in bed, he also wore no shirt. Caleb swallows the lump in his throat as he eyes up the exposed skin and forces himself to look back up to Molly's face as the frame resettles. "What about you? Studying, reading, or settling in for bed as well?"
"Ah, bed. I am tired," Caleb musters out, feeling a blush creeping up on his face. Molly's got a smirk twitching on his lips, but he's trying to keep a straight face. "I was just about to turn in, actually."
"Oh, sorry to keep you up," Molly apologizes, reaching towards the frame and adjusting the phone again; a flash of exposed torso and abdomen as it flops forward to black with mild, muffled cursing. Caleb feels his dick twitch a bit when the phone comes up and just the barest hint of hair on Molly's lower belly comes into view. "Fuck, stupid phone. Sorry about that. One free hand and all." He winks.
"Ja, that's fi... Er... one free hand?" Caleb parrots back, and Molly's smirk blows wide into a gleeful smile. The video of Molly jostles around a bit and comes up closer to his face.
"Two days in a row, Mister Caleb, I have gotten a call from you," Molly whispers. "What do I hear from the other end of the phone but you, panting out my name, hmm?" Caleb feels his face flush hot and he can't form words to try and explain. "Not that I mind, though," he continues, his breathing getting heavier. "Because it gives me an excuse to talk to you. And after seeing you- hah- eyeing me up today at lunch, I figured this would be fun." He winks again before letting out a soft moan.
"Mollymauk are you.... scheisse," Caleb keens, stroking himself again slowly, watching Molly’s face shift in pleasure as he draws out another soft moan.
“I wouldn’t want you to do this alone on camera, now, would I?” Molly teases between panting breaths. “You sounded so nice yesterday.”
“How… How long did you listen for?” Caleb asks, feeling his flush deepen and a hot mote of desire and shame settle into his belly. (Oh no, that’s a new feeling, why does it feel so good?)
“Only a minute- nng- at most, I wasn’t sure if you would realize you had called me,” Molly sighs out, his face tensing and relaxing as the frame shakes from his aborted thrusts into his hand. “Gods, this would be so much nicer if we were in the same bed.” Caleb moans softly, a gentle grin on Molly’s face from the sound. “You’d like that, huh?”
“Molly, I swear to the gods you are going to be the death of me one day,” Caleb sighs, feeling the hot desire build, threatening to spill over.
“I hope to be, since ‘orgasm’ in elvish means ‘little death’,” Molly keens, and Caleb swears quietly as he comes over his hand, thoughts of Molly’s hands on his body, on his dick, his ass. “You sound so good when you come, darling,” Molly sighs before he curses loudly, his phone dropping away. Caleb takes the moment to reach for the wet wipes he keeps on hand for cleanup.
After a minute or two, Caleb feeling his heart rate slow down to normal, the video screen shifts from the ceiling of Molly’s room to his face again, a languid smile on his face as he settles back against his pillows again. They share the quiet minutes together, basking in their own afterglows.
“So, ah…” Caleb breaks the silence first, Molly returning a gentle noise of acknowledgement, “lunch tomorrow? Just the two of us?” Molly’s soft smile turns into a wide grin again.
“Of course, love, I’d be happy to go on a date with you.” | 46886223bc2549c19185e248e7c4659d | ['11b9e14af1c74e02abc3780eacede802'] | _A flash of movement caught his eye as a large woman, almost human in her looks with long black hair fading to white and gray leather armor, emerged from the cart and slowly walked to the coat. She fell to her knees and bent forward, like she was in pain. Everyone else looked at her with caution, the tiefling stepping forward._
_Suddenly she stood again with a shout, a primal roar and skeletal wings erupted from her back. The group took a step back from her, then the green man stepped forward, about to speak, but the woman turned over her shoulder for a moment._
_A rumble of thunder and streaks of lightning approached rapidly from the west, storm clouds billowing like an angry fire. She stalked off towards the storm, vanishing below the hills and disappearing from view._
_The gray furred man stepped forward and crouched to the grave, seeming to take a moment to look at it. He put his hand out, touching the gravesite, then sinking his hand into the dirt to his wrist._
The door jingled, bringing him out of his memories and he exited the kitchen, checking quick in a spoon that his tattoos were still covered by the magic of the pendant first. He first looked to see if the other patron was still present, but no one else was to be seen. So he turned his attention to the door.
“Welcome to the Silvered Sword, what can I--” He balked, stopping in his tracks as he stared at the person who had entered the inn. He was crouched to get through the door, but stood to a full seven-foot height, pink curls cascading down one side of his gray furred face from beneath a straw hat. The newcomer wore no armor, but he recognized the staff in the firbolg’s hand; now that he was close enough to see details, he could recognize the man’s race. One sleeve on his shirt spilled over his forearm and wrist, almost touching the floor. “You...”
“Hello, Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf,” the firbolg said, bright pink eyes smiling as he spoke, “may I talk with you for a moment?”
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Caduceus and Mollymauk have a talk about what happened when the Mighty Nein returned to Molly's grave.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Just as an FYI, i may not update this regularly. I can try to, but life gets in the way a lot.
>
> Warning: the last paragraph is wet dream aftermath.
>
> [This is the last chapter, as the file I was writing got corrupted and the direction this was going wasn't where I wanted it to go and I couldn't reign it back in. Apologizes.]
Mollymauk brought out the water kettle, a couple of cups, and an assortment of dried fruit and cheese to sit with the firbolg, who had introduced himself as Caduceus Clay. Both men were quiet as Caduceus pulled out a small pouch from his pockets and spooned what looked to be leaves, flowers, and other vegetation into the kettle to steep.
After a few silent moments passed, Caduceus checked the tea, then began to pour it for them both. When he set the kettle back down, he looked at Molly and seemed to wait.
“You wanted to talk?” he said quietly, glancing over at the door. He expected any moment for Balia to return, even though he knew she was still supposed to be out for at least another hour. “What about?”
“You, primarily,” Caduceus replied. He picked up his tea and sipped at it. “This is a very good blend from my home.”
“I don’t doubt it, but I don’t drink tea that often.” He still picked up the cup and sipped, surprised how sweet it naturally was. “You’re right, this is really good.”
“Thank you,” Caduceus said with a soft smile. “So, I see you remember who you are.”
“Of course; after what you did at my grave everything came back,” Molly scoffed. “What was that, by the way?”
“I actually didn’t do that,” Caduceus said, “which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
_The gray and pink man looked to the side, at the hidden purple tiefling behind the bush. Before he could try to hide more, he felt a tingling below him, and wave after wave of divine energy wash over him, up from his feet. In seconds, he had flashes of memories burst through the fog of his mind:_
_A similar waking experience from the dirt, clawing and raking earth through his fingers; Gustav, the ring leader of the circus, officially declaring his name to be Mollymauk Tealeaf; the performance in Trostenwald where he met all the people he had just been spying on but the gray and pink man; the incident with Kylre, the Devil-Toad that he had previously considered to be a friend; leaving Trostenwald with the group and travelling with them; going to Zadash and taking on a job from the Gentleman; the fight with Lorenzo and his death._
_That last memory sparked him to open his eyes, breathing out, a large puff of hot breath rising from him in the cold air. He bolted up; at some point he had fallen onto the ground, and for some amount of time, as his clothes were covered in a layer of snow, which shifted as he began to stand. He fumbled in his jerkin for the note he had been left with in the grave, carefully pulling it out to look again._
_Of course he left a note. Who else would have that forethought?_
Molly stared at Caduceus, eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock and awe. Caduceus simply nodded, as if affirming his retelling of his part in the story, and sipped more tea. |
dac9360cd05b46e5af435f0678031cb6 | ['11cbe04a6440499abb742037675b4990'] |
When i Fall In Love
**Author's Note:**
> This is written for the marvel writing challenge (random words, random characters challenge) on Tumblr. This is set after Ant-Man and The Wasp so major spoilers if you haven't seen that.
> The title i've taken from the song of the same name and also the song i mention in the fic. I listened to the Mateo Oxley version if anyone is interested.
> The character i was given was Hank Pym, admittedly this was a good challenge as i've never written or imagined writing for Hank. The words i was given were: hospital, curriculum, thesis.
> I've self-edited so if there are any issues please let me know!
There was a sultry fire burning low in the hearth of the red brick fireplace. Laid out in front of it, on a red velvet couch were Hank Pym and his wife Janet van Dyne. Their cat was lounging, limbs outstretched, on a faux fur rug and the wind was howling outside. But they were safe, they were warm, they were undisturbed.
The location of the house had been something he had stewed over for a while, Hope had tried to help her father but he didn't agree with her. He was lucky he didn't, because he quickly found the right place, a quiet place Janet would love. It was a clearing surrounded by trees, breezy but not too cold, and there was water nearby if Hank wanted to take his boat out. The sound of nature was peaceful, and Janet always preferred it that way. “My brain works best if it's calm” she had told him one day.
The weather had progressively gotten worse, so after cooking an old favourite pasta of theirs, Hank put the fire on and they settled into each other's arms for comfort and warmth.
Hank had never wanted a moment more than this one in his entire life. The feeling of intense joy was unparalleled. It wasn't the same feeling as when he published his first thesis, when he finally figured out the Pym particles, or when he created the Ant-man suit. His career was nowhere close to conjuring up the feeling of pure unadulterated euphoria. He had his wife back in his arms, all his achievements, his life's work, meant nothing to him without Janet. He would have given it all up a long time ago to make a trade for her.
Hank got up from the couch, and went over to the old fashioned record player. Everything in their house had a used, vintage feel to it and it was something Hank had picked specifically because he knew Janet liked it. She always used to love antique shopping and would find the exact thing they needed for their science experiments. He had kept a lot of her things and the thrill she got every time she recognized one was worth the storage bills.
He put a record on, soft piano encased the room. Hank held his hand out to his wife a question in his eyes.
Janet smiled and got up from where the couple had been for the majority of the night and took his outstretched hand. Hank lead her into the middle of the room and they began to sway softly, eyes locked as they started waltzing around. She giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation, and the fondness Hank had for her swelled in his chest. He had put on their first dance song from their wedding in the hopes it would convey to her how he really felt. She sighed dreamily and leant her head against his chest. They swayed until the song finished and when Hank met his wife's eyes once more, he saw shiny tears pooling in them.
“You never ceases to surprise me, even after all this time” she whispered, her hands loosely gripping the front of the button up shirt he was wearing.
He tucked a bit of her grey hair behind her ear and then cupped her face. “Our time is precious, it always will be”.
Hank and Janet sat back down on the couch, as close to each other as they could be. Their cat had climbed up and curled into itself on Janet's lap, she pet him absentmindedly. Hank reached a hand up and smoothed her hair as she looked down at their grey cat.
He seemed to reach out and touch Janet more, as if she would vanish again at any moment. There was no worse time for their family then the time spent without her. Hope had a light back in her eyes that he hadn’t seen since she was a child, he had tried to bring it out of his daughter, but it was never the same.
Hope had lived with them for a while, appreciating the very real presence of her mother at full size again. Although Hope had loved being a family together again she had her own life now and she needed to get back to it.
Janet had tears in her eyes at the sight of Hope in the doorway with her things, Hank knew because he hardly looked away from her face since he got her back.
“Mum I'll come back, I'll be safe with Scott and you can video chat with me. It will be easy. You and Dad need time together to just be you. I love you both so much”. She beamed at them, and Hank knew it was because of how full her heart was. Her family was reunited and nothing made her happier, not even Scott.
“Yes well, you will always be my little jellybean”.
“We'll see each other again in no time” Hank said to Hope before everything got too sad.
“It better not be in a hospital bed young lady” Janet's voice was stern but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.
Hope smiled before pulling her mother into a tight hug. Hank watched the two most precious women in his life hug and then claimed a hug of his own from his daughter.
“I promise the suits will be in a safe place should we ever need then” Hope told him earnestly, her eyes shining.
He nearly got choked up but he held it in, this wasn't forever, he wouldn’t lose her like he had Janet.
***
The time spent together, without Hope had given them time to reconnect, the love was never lost but it had been hard to love someone who wasn't there. The little moments were the ones that took Hank the most by surprise, the mundane things that he had taken for granted before, he cherished now.
Every morning when Hank woke up and saw, and felt his wife laying in the bed next to him he smiled, and when her breathing became lighter and her eyes fluttered he asked her the same thing he asked her everyday;
“Good morning my love, what's on the curriculum for today?”
Janet always laughed and told him something different, some new thing she wanted to try, a new place she wanted to go. After all. They had a lot of catching up to do. | faef150dd93f49fca0ac2eafa516a778 | ['11cbe04a6440499abb742037675b4990'] |
Ted
**Author's Note:**
> First Marvel fic. Please let me know if there are any mistakes. I used a name generator for the name of the monsters that Steve destroys at the start so they are made up.
> I have made this purely for my own fun, i don't own or pretend to own any aspect of the MCU or otherwise. Thanks for coming.
Steve jumps down, shield turned to the side and jams it through the robotic neck of the last Oioblin. It twitches for a second, Steve standing up and letting the body of the thing drop. The other Avengers are watching him, awaiting his next command.
“Tony, fly around see if we’ve missed any of these things. They pack a nasty punch, i’d hate to see one get near a civilian”.
“Already on it Cap” Tony’s voice comes through the earpiece.
Natasha can be heard vaguely giving the hulk his que to calm down in a soft, even voice. Clint and Thor are walking towards the Quinjet and Steve goes to join them when he hears a quiet, barely there whimper.
“Hey guys i'll meet you there” he calls out to the other Avengers, Tony escorting Natasha and a very tired looking Bruce inside the Quinjet.
Steve looks around, trying to find where the noise came from, his heart beating a little faster. Has somebody been hurt? Have they caused destruction and not gotten all the civilians out? What if an innocent bystander is underneath rubble somewhere?
He hears it again, this time closer. His eyes scan the area, a twist in his stomach makes him call out “Hello? Do you need help?”
There's no response. But Steve's eyes catch something moving underneath a broken sheet of metal. It was probably once a veranda over a restaurant.
Upon picking up the metal he realises that the noise was a dog, the movement was the dog wagging its tail in response to his voice. It's a golden colour, or rather it was, the poor dog is so dirty. The big brown eyes of the dog look up at him, fearful.
“Hey” Steve says, in the softest voice he can manage after such a taxing battle. “Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you”. He reaches out towards the dog slowly, so he won't frighten it. It backs away a little but it can't go far. There's something wrong with its leg.
“Oh, come here, i'll fix that leg. Or Bruce. Or Natasha. We can fix you”. He leans towards the dog, and though the dog is hesitant it seems as if it knows he's going to help it.
The dog curls into Steve when he has it in his arms, it shouldn't be as light as it is, even though Steve isn't a very good judge of weight anymore. But he is concerned about this dog, and feels guilty even, that they caused the damage done to the dogs leg. It whimpers and Steve holds it just that little bit closer, ignoring the smell and the fleas.
When he gets on the Quinjet, nobody seems to notice at first. Then there's a flurry of movement as they all come over to see what Steve has in his arms.
“What is that?” Thor bellows at the same time that Nastasha goes “what happened to it?” and Tony says “That thing is not going anywhere near the tower”.
“Why not?” Steve booms. Everybody looks at him, surprised by the volume of his voice.
Tony looks incredulous as he answers “look at it; it has fleas and it's filthier than Clint's mouth”
Clint's indignant shout goes unnoticed.
“I'll clean her up and then there will be no issue, I'm sure. This dog needs help”.
Tony just shook his head and let it go. Arguing with Steve when he got all “soldiery” was not going to get him anywhere, and the only place he wanted to get was home.
“Let's take it to a vet” Bruce says eyeing the dog carefully.
Steve nods and holds it up “boy or girl?” He asks Bruce, holding the dogs belly outwards.
“Boy” Bruce tells him, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.
Steve smiles and puts the dog comfortably on his lap. After a while he realises the dog has fallen into a pitiful sleep but Steve won't wake him. Poor dog has been through enough today.
On arrival at the Avengers tower Steve asks Jarvis to connect him to Pepper who he asks for dog supplies She sounds bewildered but then he can her muffled talking and figures Tony has just reached her and let her know they have a visitor. Bruce is waiting for Steve and Pepper to hang up, car keys already in his hand.
“I can take him Steve, no offense but you need a shower” Bruce has a kind expression, one that means he genuinely will take the dog and Steve must really stink.
“Oh, i'll be five minutes then”.
True to his word Steve showers and changes in record time, Scrubbing his skin to almost the point of pain in his haste. Bruce was sitting on a recliner in the foyer of the Avengers tower, the dog curled up on his lap when Steve comes down the stairs. The dog shakes, its eyes wide and fearful when Bruce picks it up, it doesn't know what is happening. Steve wants to pat him, but he knows he shouldn't, there was no point in stressing the dog out.
Steve gets in the passenger seat, Bruce putting the dog down on Steve's lap. The drive is calm, Bruce is driving slower than usual and the window is down on Steve's side in case the dog wants to stick his head out the window. He doesn't.
“What will we do with him?” Bruce asks suddenly, like it hadn't occurred to him what the plan was yet. |
3f655e1b9c0a4790b36ed3ee0caa8a9e | ['11cd74776c304a98982b0bfe4a662a33'] | “I will call you when I get back” Stiles smiles to his dad.
“So this boyfriend? Is he good I never got a chance to threaten him with my guns”John tells him.
“Don’t worry Stiles tells him” He switches his eyes from his normal brown to the pure black he’s been learning to do “I can take care of myself dad” Stiles tells him.
“God that is so freaky” John tells him.
“Stiles! Your EX is annoying me now” Damon shouts and he can’t be assed with this shit any more.
“I need to get going before someone gets killed” Stiles tells his dad hugging him one last time.
“Oh and Stiles?” John asks.
“Yeah?” He smirks.
“Please try and stay away from danger” John begs.
“Don’t worry dad I think I’m finally okay” Stiles laughs,
“Really?” John asks sceptically.
“Yeah I don’t think I have the darkness any more I think I have finally found the light or at least some fucking light in this messed up world anyway” Stiles tells him.
“I’m proud of you” John smirks.
“What for?” Stiles asks confused.
“For being so strong” He smirks.
“Seriously Stiles!” Damon shouts again.
“Festos voitenta” Stiles hisses and smirks when he hears Damon choke on thin air.
“Maybe I still have a little darkness still a little evil is good once in a while” Stiles laughs.
“You better go” John smirks and holds his son so tight he might actually die from suffocation,
But all he feels is light and its been like that for a while now he’s got no anger at Derek and the pack he just doesn’t want them in his life.
It’s time he starts living for him not anyone else.
**Author's Note:**
> It's short but I promise to update this and make it longer. | 9a7372d41a48491fb30a5fa2479aa274 | ['11cd74776c304a98982b0bfe4a662a33'] | How to be a Heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
we'll get them falling for a stranger
a player singing i la-la-la-love you,
at least i think i do
Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh
Cause i la-la-la-love you
Rule number three
wear your heart on your cheek
but never on your sleeve
unless you want to taste defeat
Rule number four
gotta be looking pure
kissing goodbye at the door,
and leave them wanting more more
This is how to be a Heartbreaker
Boys they like a little danger
we'll get them falling for a stranger
a player singing i la-la-la-love you
How to be a Heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
we'll get them falling for a stranger
a player singing i la-la-la-love you,
At least i think i do
Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh
Cause i la-la-la-love you
Stiles looks up and smirks during the instrumental bit and jumps off the stage and actually drags Bonnie up on stage to do the girls part.
Bonnie smirks and sings the lyrics when they come on the screen rolling her eyes at Stiles.
Girls we do whatever it will take
cause girls don't want
we don't want our hearts to break
in two
so its better to be fake
cant risk losing in love that can bre-ak
Stiles smirks and joins bonnie in singing the last bits of the song people are clapping along and Stiles hates singing in front of people.
This is how to be a Heartbreaker
Boys they like a little danger
we'll get them falling for a stranger
a player singing i la-la-la-love you
How to be a Heartbreaker
Boys they like the look of danger
we'll get them falling for a stranger
a player singing i la-la-la-love you,
Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh, Ohhhhh
Cause i la-la-la-love you
At least i think i do
Stiles smirks when the place starts cheering Jeremy and Scott the loudest out of the place.
“I hate you” Stiles smirks and confesses to Bonnie when she hugs him.
“Oh please you sounded amazing” Bonnie tells him and grabs his hand dragging him off stage.
“Wasn’t he amazing?” Matt shouts to the grill when he comes and introduces the next singer.
The place erupts with clapping and cheering and Stiles can’t help but blush.
“You’ve got a great mouth on you” Damon tells him.
“Well Tyler already knew that” Jeremy mutters making those with supernatural hearing laugh and those without to ask someone that heard.
“Your boyfriends a dick” Stiles hisses to Bonnie.
“I thought you liked them” Bonnie smirks.
“Why did I even come out tonight?” Stiles pouts.
“So what is going on with you and Tyler?” Bonnie asks when Tyler gets up to go get a round of drinks in.
“We fucked on night stand” Stiles shrugs.
“He’s never been with a boy before I think he likes you” Bonnie tells him laughing when Caroline nods along agreeing with her.
Caroline is so drunk she puts Stiles drunk antics the night before to shame.
“Trust me the way he sucks dick I am so not his first boy” Stiles smirks when Bonnie’s eyes widen and Scott splutters.
“I’m gonna get some air” Stiles tells them and without waiting for their answer gets up from the table and makes his way outside.
The fresh air is amazing he was true to his word he never had a drink tonight and he doesn’t plan on touching another drop for at least a week, he doesn’t know how the vampires do it.
Then again they have got healing powers so he supposes that has something to do with it.
“Hey” Comes a peppy and very bubbly high pitched voice.
“Hey?” Stiles says back but its more of a question because was she talking to him?
“I’m Molly” She tells him twirling a blond strand of hair on her finger.
“Stiles” He tells her smiling politely.
“Your an amazing singer, you like totally blew me away” She tells him and Stiles almost wanted to laugh he thought girls on talked like that in movies and those snotty Beverly Hills housewives shows.
“Thanks” Stiles smiles at her.
She leans into him more showing off her cleavage and its a very nice rack Stiles is a terrible human for looking down when he looks up he thinks the girl is going to scold him or something she just smirks and pulls down her top a little.
“It’s okay they are their to be looked at” She smirks backing Stiles into the wall.
He may let out a small eep.
He doesn’t really know how or what happens but the next minute he’s looking in her eyes then the next second he reverses his position and has her pushed up against the wall and they are kissing.
Not just light kissing but full on making out with tongues battling for dominance.
“Heyyyy” Comes a voice from behind them Stiles tears his lips away from Minnie? Marie god who cares.
Tyler is stood their with an odd expression on his face.
“Nice” he smirks his eyes aren’t as bright as usual. “I only came to check on you, there is this girl in their that’s so hot she had a friend I thought you’d be my wing man but it looks like you’ve scored all on your own” Tyler smirks walking back in.
Stiles feels guilty for some reason like he owes Tyler an explanation, his mind replays the last couple of seconds and he comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t owe Tyler shit.
Yeah he likes the werewolf but obviously Tyler is only into boys when he needs to bury his dick in something, and he obviously isn’t interested in Stiles the only reason he followed him is because he needed him to be his wingman so he can fuck some poor girl.
“You okay?” Margo? Asks.
“Sure” Stiles smirks, he leans down and kisses her neck smirking when she moans. |
4fb8ff85784c4a7d90591f23a1d4a4c8 | ['11eb8725c4f24183b877260dc7ea7f8d'] | Grindelwald seemed to be testing him, he figured perhaps too late, but he still acted as casual as possible given the circumstances. "I know how much you risk just coming here, but I'm sure my father would appreciate that you came to say goodbye to him." He spoke with as much sincerity as he could, and Gellert just looked at him like if he said the most stupid thing he could have come with. "I'm not here just to say goodbye to your father. Yes, he was a great man, but old." He dismissed with a gesture from his hand. "I suffer his death, but I also think he gave me all he could throught the years, now I need someone younger at my side, you understand Percival?" Of course he understood, he had been waiting all morning for this meeting, he was sure it would come. Grindelwald wanted him at his side. "I'm not sure if i can, sir." He whispered in all honestly... perhaps too honest. The blonde man raised an eyebrow and the security guards moved closer. "I don't think you have any other choice, Percy." He hated when the other used his nickname only his father used to call him like that. "I don't think you need an answer." One of the goons moved closer removing his jacket to show his gun. "Easy there, he is only being a smartass, aren't you Percy?" Gellert laughed but his laugh wasn't real, and everybody there knew it. "Of course." Percival huffed with a forced laugh. "I would accept with my eyes closed." He smiled trying to calm down the tension between each of them. "As I was sure you would." the man said, forcing the goon to go back to his position.
* * *
He had no other option, Grindelwald was right. His family has been a part of the mafia during all their life, his father even got married to one of the daughters of another boss who had been killed by a way younger Grindelwald back in the day. It was safe to seen that it run in their blood, so Percival was stuck there even thougt when half of his life he had tried to avoid it. But now with his father dead, and with that place unoccupied, he was forced to take his place. Of course he first needed to prove himself, there was going to be a serie of different missions to test him and see if he could really be the right hand of their boss. The last name wasn't enough this was about loyalty and the lack of it was paid with blood.
That afternoon, Percival received a call from one of the men of Grindelwald letting him know that his boss wanted to see him by dinner. Not too long ago who was used to have dinners with him used to be his father, now it seemed to be him the one who would not just take his father's place but also have the attention of Grindelwald on him. Nothing seemed to get worse... nothing could get worse than that. The funeral has been three days ago, the heavy feeling of emptiness still lurked in the heart of Percival, and it only grew worse when now everybody addressed him as 'Mister Graves' he would often tell him that Mr. Graves was his father and not him, and the only thing he gain in return where long pitiful stares like if he had just lost his mind. He was still in the mansion of his family, making company to his mother who couldn't get used to the fact that her husband has left her and she couldn't do anything. They drank for the first two days, until they had enough of it, and just focused in trying to keep living.
Meanwhile he was fixing his tie, in front of the mirror of the living room, his mother walked downstairs, holding another re-filled glass of wine. "You're not going, aren't you?" The woman said obviously drunk, but still sober enough to not sound like she was wasted beyond words. "I have no choice." He said seriously, they had this conversation since the moment the cellphone rang. "You can't go Percival I forbid you." It was obvious her state, the pain of losing her husband, the fear of losing her only child. "I can't refuse, mother. I will just have to run with the flow." He didn't want to go either, but he had made peace with the idea that it was this or share the tumb with his father, and he wasn't ready for it yet. Besides Grindelwald wouldn't kill him, he would go for his mother only to punish him, and he couldn't do that to her. "He will do with you what he did with your father, consume your soul until you become his pup, and then kill you when you stop being useful." She snapped, her body shaking. "He didn't kill father!" Percival shouted back. "He died on a mission and you know it! He was here to say goodbye!" Percival could be so naive sometimes, which made his mother laugh. "William at least was smarter than you!"
Percival shook his head, his mother was in pain, it was normal that she was acting like this, blaming the only man who had cared for his father, for the terrible destiny he had. Since the night Gellert had come to tell them that William had died during a mission, Olympias couldn't stop blaming him for killing her husband, of course she didn't told him that to his face in order to protect her child. "He will take you away from me." She whispered between sobs until her son walked up to her and removed the cup of wine from her hand. "You already had too much of this." He said softly, he hated to see his mother like this. "And he won't take me away from you mom, I will never do that to you." He promised before kissing her temple. The woman nodded, even thought she had heard those words before, many years ago. Leaving his mother behind, the man walked out of the family house and to his car, a black Ferrari. Driving at high speed, he kept thinking about the words of Grindelwald mixed with the words of his mother, he wished he could have seen his father before he died, hear his last words, because only then a man is being true, only then the fear of death wouldn't allow him to lie. But now it was too late, and he had to follow his guts, because now the destiny of his family depended on him.
2. The Sins of the Father.
It all started a few years ago, when Mary Lou Barebone from her church began to point out that the Mafia was working in the streets and that they needed to be handled. It wasn't a bad thing to do, Percival could tell, but of course Grindelwald wanted her dead, she had enough 'power' to make things harder for him. Until that, everything seemed normal, nothing hard to do, except because Grindelwald wanted to kill her and all her children. Mary Lou kept under her charge a lot of kids mostly those who used to be children of mobsters that were either dead or in prison, and she would punish them, as if they were to be blamed by the mistakes of their families. One of her favorites to punish was Credence Barebone, he was the first child she would adopt, no one actually knew the past of Credence, who his father had been and what has he done, but Mary Lou knew, and she hated him for a special reason, more than the others, she would spend hours harming him not just physically but psychologically as well, making of him a really obedient and shy young man.
"I don't understand what I can do." Percival whispered during the meeting that night. The both of them had dinner at the mansion of Gellert, but soon after they were joined by others of his most loyals men. Neither of them liked the young Graves very much, many wanted the position his father William had left, but Grindelwald had plans for Percival and no one was able to change his mind about it. "It's more likely that you don't have the guts to do it." A man said obviously mocking him, which had their boss pretty amused. "I don't understand the need to kill the children, they are innocent as far I as I can tell." Percival wouldn't have problems killing an adult if he had no other option, but children... that was completely out of question. "I think you lack the vision for this job Percy." Another one added. "It's your mission and you're already ruining it." Another said, making him upset, he would prove them that they were wrong. "It's that true, Percival? If you can't handle this job I will be fine with it." Grindelwald said in a whispered tone, but Percival knew better since dinner the blonde one has been testing him, he couldn't show he was weak, he couldn't show he wasn't loyal. "I can handle this, sir." He said quickly. "The Barebones will meet their destiny."
That has been a bold promise, he wouldn't be able to kill those children, he knew that. It was heartless to do so and there was no valid reason for it to happen more than the sick iedas of Grindelwald. When the meeting was over, he picked up the information that someone handed him in a folder, and walked to the door while fixing his coat. "Percy..." The voice of the blonde boss made him stop and he looked behind. "Yes, sir?" He asked wondering if the man had another sick idea. "I know how you feel about killing these children... it's such a tragedy, isn't it? But it's needed." He said immediatly and explained his reasons. "I couldn't tell you this at the meeting because I thought it wouldn't be wise to share such information between some of my people, but I trust you, I trust your father taught you well and that you wouldn't betray me for his sake. But these children, even when it hurts in my heart, they need to die or they will seek revenge on me." Percival was lost for words, it made sense that thought because Grindelwald had killed their parents to be able to take control of all the mobs of the city, or even sent some to prison, of course if he now killed their mother, the children would continue the game, and he couldn't allow himself to have competition, and still it was wrong.
* * *
Once he finally left the mansion behind, Percival drove by the busy streets of New York without a real destination. He couldn't stop thinking about his mission, about having to kill those children. He wondered if his father had done it as well. His kind and sweet father, who would usually reach home and tell him a story while tucking him in bed, who would laugh and make jokes, his hero. Has his hero killed children as well? The idea consumed him and he would never know. His mother sure never knew about any mission, he had his doubts that his father would return home and tell her what he had done, sure she would divorced him and move to a different country. If his father has ever been a monster he couldn't tell, but he knew now that he was becoming that monster, and it scared him.
Without realizing where he was going, Percival decided to stop for a moment, driving while he was so deep in thoughts would lead him to a fatal destiny that he wasn't looking foward, so he parked his car in a dark alley and held his head in his hands, in shame. His head was pounding already for thinking so much and so hard, it was overwhelming to know that he couldn't find a way to avoid all this. Taking deep breaths to calm down his anxiety, he suddenly heard sobs. Lifting his head, and narrowing his eyes in the darkness to be able to see, he saw a dark figure, like a shadow shaking in the deepest darkness of the alley. Something had happened to whoever that person was, and Percival couldn't just ignore it. Maybe it was in his nature to help people he didn't know, or perhaps he was already compensating for the future of those children he has been forced to kill. Stepping out of his car, he walked carefully to the shadow, that whimpered and tried to disappear but it was impossible since his back was already too hard pressed against the wall. "Shh it's okay I won't hurt you." He whispered lifting his hands, as he knelt near the shadow. "I heard you crying, and I couldn't help to come, are you hurt? Do you need help?"
The shadow shifted uncomfortable when Percy moved closer, but there was nowhere to go and he sure felt trapped. "I...I'm f-fine s-sir." He spoke softly between uncontrolable sobs. Percival wasn't an idiot he knew the person was lying. "It's fine, kid, I don't want to hurt you, just making sure I don't need to call a hospital." To the mention of that he could swear the boy tried again to hide into the wall, like if he was trying to just disappear. "Fine, don't do that, bad idea, but please let me help you." What was this sudden obsession trying to help someone? He pushed the thoughts away, he needed to focus into something else than his mission. "I ca-can't see a-a d-doctor." The shaking voice whispered. "Sh-she wo-would fi-find out and..." He sobbed harder and Percival reached for his cheek, it was completely wet. "Who is she? Your mother?" He wondered what kind of person would hurt someone like this. "Y-yes... ple-please..." He wasn't sure what was he begging for, perhaps to be taken care off, perhaps to just not tell his mother, not that he could, he didn't know her name for that matter. "Let me take you home." He offered hoping he would accept. "You will be able to rest, a storm is coming and I won't tolerate to know I left you here." A small smile tugged at the lips of the boy though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's o-okay sir, it w-wouldn't be the f-f-first time." That only made things worse for Percival. "Not when I can avoid it. Come, let me take you home. By the way, I'm Percival Graves." He introduced himself as he helped the boy to stand up. The boy looked up at him once he was standing under the light now, and both of them could properly see each other's eyes. "Cr-Credence Barebone." He whispered shyly. | 5e7d6d05a4c14eff90d6d9b07cd132e0 | ['11eb8725c4f24183b877260dc7ea7f8d'] |
1. The Funeral.
**Author's Note:**
> No beta :( all my mistakes are mine, don't be rude about it, my first language is not English.
> I don't know how this happened.
> Sorry not sorry.
"Hold it firm, if you don't, the impact will make you lose your aim and it could be dangerous." A man spoke to a child of around 10 years who was still unable to hold the gun with one hand. "That is Percy, now focus on your target, remember if you hit him..." The boy continued for his father. "In the legs he won't be able to run, in the arms he won't be able to attack me back or defend himself, and if I shot him in the head, he will die." Right after reciting those learned words, the young boy shot the gun, and it landed right on the center of his target. "And if you hit him in the heart he will also die, remember that Percy." The boy nodded and looked up at his father. "I don't want to kill someone, dad." He said with the innocence of a child. "And I hope you never have to, Percival, but if one day you have to protect your life, or the life of someone else, the other person won't be thinking about what's right and what it isn't, they will shot to kill, so kill them first."
He wasn't doing it on purpose but he has been dozing off since the moment he walked into the mansion of his family. The place was filled with people he didn't know, and others he did. Those he knew used to be co-workers of his father, they were all members of the italian mafia that resided in New York. Their boss was Gellert Grindelwald one of the most dangerous mobs of his time, he was wanted in so many countries that it amazed Percival to see him there at his own house. The blonde man has been a close friend of his father, they spend lots of time together, planning new movements, or just having dinner with the family. Whenever Grindelwald invited himself, everybody seemed ready to please, even his own mother depsite hearing her many times saying to his husband how dangerous working for that man was. Percival made eye contact with Grindelwald who nodded in his direction and the lawyer turned his head away. He knew why he was there, it wasn't to say goodbye to a friend, but to welcome another.
More people keep walking into the house, greeting him and his mother for their loss. He was so overwhelmed that he just wanted to leave the place for a moment, take some fresh air. "Excuse me, mom." He whispered against her ear, before kissing her temple and forcing his way to the big garden. There was almost no one outside, it was perfect, he welcomed the silence, he needed it. Taking a deep breath he ran his fingers throught his hair, losing someone so close to him wasn't a common thing, he was an only child, he only had his parents, and now one of them was gone. "It's hard to see them gone, I know, and I'm sorry." The voice send chills to his spine, he turned around only to notice the security had moved around them, and that at his side, Gellert Grindelwald himself was standing. "Thank you sir." He spoke as polite as he could. "I wish I could have been there." He added immediatly. "Oh I'm sure, Percy, but I'm also glad you weren't there. You see, I saw my father dying in the hands of a traitor, I never could recover." If it was a lie or not it was hard to tell, no one knew nothing about his past. "I took revenge of course, but revenge is a dark path, Percy, something I wouldn't want for you." Percival's brown eyes looked up at him in confusion. "I wouldn't take revenge if it was a mission." He said firmly. He knew how missions worked like for a member of the mafia, since he was 5 years old and learned about his father's profession, he has been waiting for this day, the day he would wake up and his father would be gone. Of course in the mind of Percival he hoped to never reach to this moment, he believed, like every child would, that his parents were immortals, and that his father was a hero. |
206002312bb84d5982cfde3eebe1c854 | ['11ee29c77e644c839230f9eab7a1c939'] | 'You're alright.' He says. Some of the blankness from earlier is back in his eyes. Darcy reaches over to pat him on the arm.
'We're fine. Bit shaken, but Jane used science to defeat the creeps.'
'She means that I hit him with the tablet.' Jane says, in the tone of one who spends a lot of time with Darcy.
'Same thing. Ooh, do either of you have zip ties?'
'Damn, she's a swell dame.' Steve murmurs. Bucky raises a wordless eyebrow, and Steve goes pink. Darcy, who is _definitely_ going to explore what this 'swell dame' thing is about later, clears her throat.
'Zip ties? Wait, were zip ties a thing in the forties?'
~~~~
Getting a phone call from Stark is rarely a good thing. Nick Fury is just glad that he's alone in his office when it comes through.
'Stark.'
'Wherever you are, go be somewhere else. Like now. Maybe five minutes ago. Do it.'
'Stark.'
'Fury.'
'Why exactly are you telling me to leave my own damn building?'
'Trust me, you don't want to be there.'
'Stark.'
'And Project Insight is a terrible idea, just so you know. I won't be consulting on that.'
The line goes dead.
'Motherfucker.'
Fury grabs a few things from his desk and strides out.
~~~~
Maria and Melinda are in Phil's office for three reasons: reason one is that Phil is meticulous – the likelihood of any bugs remaining there is pretty much zero, and particularly sadistic surveillance trainers use it as an exercise for their students; reason two is that Jasper and Phil have been friends for years, and if Jasper's left clues anywhere it will be here; reason three is that both May and Hill have go-bags hidden in Phil's office and there's a chance they're going to end up running.
The two women are methodically tearing the place apart looking for anything that appears out of place.
'So that's all he said?' Maria questions, checking for secret drawers in Phil's desk, and absent-mindedly counting all the visible Captain America merch to see if Phil's bought any new stuff.
'Just the code phrase.' Melinda is going through folders, scanning each page.
'Jasper's unflappable. What the hell happened?'
'I don't know, but whatever it is, it's big.'
'Do you think there's a mole?'
Melinda doesn't answer. She's staring at something inside the folder.
'What is it?' Maria asks.
'A list.' Melinda says.
Maria walks over to stand beside her and read it. She whistles.
'That's one hell of a list.'
'It's not the whole thing. It's been sectioned.'
The two women look at each other, and wordlessly redouble their efforts with the folders.
~~~~
In the end, Llewellyn Llewellyn answered all of Sitwell's questions. On any other day he might have held out longer, but today he's literally been thrown in front of a gun by his own side. Plus, everyone seemed to think that Sitwell was HYDRA anyway, so he can always claim he thought it was just another hazing ritual.
In the time since Sitwell left, it has occurred to Llewellyn Llewellyn that this could be a training exercise of some kind. In which case, he is fucked. He sighs.
At least Sitwell untied him from the chair and left him with food. A lot of food, actually, which is slightly worrying. But better than no food. There's also a hardcore mobile phone, which will not make outgoing calls.
Llewellyn Llewellyn sits on the very small bed, and starts singing under his breath:
'20,000 green bottles, sitting on a wall...'
~~~~
Alexander Pierce arrives home, finally. Of course he's not actually off duty; he just needs to have a drink and a nap. Rollins and Rumlow are due to check in soon, and he has every faith that they can avoid Stark's security long enough to find out if Captain America is actually with him.
Pierce sits down and pours a drink, swishing it about in his glass. And freezes, the cold kiss of a gun making itself known at the base of his neck.
'You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?' Says Jasper Sitwell.
Alexander opens his mouth to reply. Sitwell squeezes the trigger, and Alexander jerks and slumps, very much dead.
'Not gonna grow another head?' Sitwell asks.
~~~~
To say that Phil Coulson is furious is to miss out on a perfectly good opportunity to use the word incandescent. He has discovered that SHIELD, which he has given his blood, sweat and tears for most of his adult life, has a HYDRA infestation of uncertain size. Barton has been unable to contact Romanov, which is making the archer stressed. A STRIKE team broke into the building, clearly looking for Captain America despite the fact that Fury and Hill had agreed with Phil that they should keep his location secret for the moment. And Phil's beginning to suspect that Darcy and Tony may be related, which is enough to give him a headache all on its own.
Phil Coulson believes in channeling his anger into useful activities, which means that Coulson is interrogating Rollins. Captain America had cheerfully offered to help, which had thrown Phil off at first. He remained confused for all of five minutes, at which point he hears a yell from the next room. Upon investigating, Phil Coulson finds Barnes holding Rumlow upside-down out of a window while shouting: 'And I'm resigning, you fucking son of a gun! Make me fight for HYDRA will you? I'm gonna rip you a new one!'
Phil can just about hear Rumlow, screaming out a mixture of swearwords and very complicated Russian phrases. He turns to glare at Rogers, who stares back at him steadily.
'You knew this was going to happen.' Coulson accuses.
'From what I gather, they spent seventy years torturing him and making him think he wasn't a person. I'd be holding the bastard out the window myself if Bucky didn't have first call on that.' | 61486dd698f9487e93d46d356c74af21 | ['11ee29c77e644c839230f9eab7a1c939'] |
Choices
**Author's Note:**
> One of my very early fanfics - I wrote this years ago. Un-betaed, so please point out any errors.
There were decisions that had to be made. Narcissa understood this-she had faced more than her fair share of unthinkable choices in her life. This one had been strangely simple. Her hands still shook, though they looked nothing like her own as she waited in this familiar yet alien room. Lucius would have helped her, had he been able. Less than an hour ago she had sent an owl, not knowing if it would reach Azkaban, not daring to tell him what she planned in case it was intercepted. Just a few simple words. She hoped he would forgive her.
Narcissa stands, paces across the luscious carpet. This body is awkward, and she is terrified that someone will notice the way she moves. Narcissa tries to imitate the swagger of a terrified seventeen-year-old boy, and nearly trips. She stops, and takes a deep breath. In her son's room, the quiet is as thick as syrup. Grey eyes flicker over Draco's possessions, the photographs he keeps on his mantel. She recognises his childhood friends, changing in age from children tumbling in and out of the frames to insouciant teenagers. There is a picture of Millicent Bulstrode, caught off-guard wearing Muggle clothes and smiling embarrassedly. Narcissa wonders what happened there; her chest tightens as she realises that she will never know.
A clock ticks. Draco is long gone - Narcissa sent him away by portkey earlier, to friends of hers in Europe. She has re-routed his bank accounts, left him lists of contacts; people who are useful, people he can trust. He has a good chance of survival. The doorhandle clicks, and Narcissa forces thoughts of her son to the side. She straightens. Bella lounges against the doorframe, insanity twisting her once loved face into something unrecognisable. For a second she thinks of Andromeda, whom she has not seen in years.
"Come along Draco. The Dark Lord is waiting."
Bella's voice is a shattered creak. Narcissa does not reply. Her deception will be discovered soon, she knows. Every minute that she can give her son counts, every second before Voldemort begins searching gives him a better chance of getting away. Her belly clenches. She follows her sister, for once able to look down at her messy hair. It feels bizarre. Narcissa wants to reach out, to wrap her arms around Bella as she embraced her son earlier. To say goodbye, or sorry, or something. Anything. It would give the game away, and Narcissa knows where Bella's loyalty lies. So she tightens her jaw, rough with stubble _(when did Draco start growing facial hair?)_ , and walks the corridors of her home. Narcissa wishes that she could see Lucius in person, tell him once more that she loves him. That she does not want to leave him.
Voldemort is in the ballroom of course. It is the most beautiful room in the house, so he will insist on defiling it. A sneer holds her face, and abruptly Narcissa is no longer afraid but furious. This man, this half-blood scum has invaded her home and ripped apart her family! She intends to pay him back, if only a little.
Outside the ballroom she pauses to collect herself; she cannot waver now. In her mind she says one final farewell to the people that she loves, then walks through the doors. The room is crowded, a chandelier illuminating the motley assembly. Candlelight glints from blank white masks. The Dark Lord is stood upon a dais, raised above everyone. Bellatrix skips towards him, the others parting before her and jeering at the boy following. Narcissa does not twitch, her face perfectly composed. She does not expect to survive the night.
She reaches the dais and stands facing the intruder. Red eyes glare at her like embers, and she squares shoulders that are wider than she is accustomed to.
"Draco Malfoy," His voice is soft, light. It mocks her. "You are here to pledge your loyalty."
Narcissa says nothing. To Voldemort's right, unidentified black eyes fill with momentary worry. Bella stands at his left, as close as she can be without touching him. The silence unnerves the gathered masses, and Narcissa regards this man who has influenced so much of her life.
"Well kneel boy. Hold out your arm."
The Dark Lord gestures gracefully to the floor, and ripples of amusement sound out behind her. Narcissa raises a single eyebrow; she would have spat if it were not such a vulgar action. She speaks quietly, but her tones carry across the throng and echo from the walls.
"Malfoys do not kneel to scum."
Bella hisses. The man to Voldemort's right _(is that Severus?)_ jerks. Voldemort's face is unreadable, hard as stone. Almost lazily, he points his wand at her. The pain is excruciating, indescribable. It perforates her, burning glass shoved into her skin. Narcissa locks her knees and holds onto her screams, twitching and shaking but refusing to fall. She staggers when it stops.
"You are very foolish, boy. Do you think with your defiance you risk only your own life? Kneel!"
His voice is amused, his eyes steel. Narcissa's legs are trembling but she holds her ground. With a toss of her head she flicks short hair from her face, meeting his gaze. She does not see realisation dawning in the eyes of the man with the beetle-black eyes.
"No."
Narcissa strokes her wand, concealed in a holster up her sleeve. The silence could be cut with a knife. She can feel the polyjuice beginning to wear off. Fear has entirely left now; there is only certainty. Another spell hits her, even more vicious than the last. Narcissa doubles over. She bites her lip until it bleeds and digs her nails into her hands, refusing to scream. |
c9dbe615be68464b990c97920d297d76 | ['11f09fc225ad405a9e81a1611396ef52'] | But when Yugi moved up to the steps, he winced as a yawning blackness awaited them further down. Anzu nodded, equally concerned as to the destination, “The lights turned out down here too. We’ll have to be very careful not to fall…”
She trailed off as Jounouchi stepped down first before anyone could stop him, one hand keeping a hold on the rail, “I’ll go first then, and don’t worry about falling, I’ll catch you.” Despite Anzu’s warnings and Yugi’s shout to be careful, he took the stairs two at a time, disappearing into the underground until Yugi could just barely distinguish Jounouchi’s silhouette from the surrounding area. “Alright, its clear down here, come on!” He and Anzu followed after somewhat slower, cautious of the way the edges of the steps grew indistinct and feeling their way to stop from stumbling forward. It was only after Yugi reached level ground that he realized that Honda was still at the top of the stairwell, hesitating and noticeably unsure. Jounouchi couldn’t wait for him whatever was bothering him though, “Get down here, you baby. I thought the subway was your idea?”
“Well, _I’m sorry_ ,” Honda picked up the pace, casting on last glance behind him before they all plunged into the underground. Eventually, Yugi was about to keep his bearings as his eyes began to adjust, but only enough tell where his friends and the walls were. “There might be a working emergency generator further in, which means light, but…” Honda lowered his voice, quickly becoming aware of how much better the acoustics were in the sub line. “Some of those monsters might follow us here, so watch out.”
Yugi nodded, then realizing no one could probably see him, murmured a soft 'ok’ instead. At first, Honda's plan seemed to be working, as Yugi didn't hear anything from behind them like more monsters. Of course, daring to slow down too much or make just a bit too much noise could change that in an instant. Barely daring to make a sound, the close quarters made an already oppressive silence even worse as they walked, until the next set of stairs. The distance seemed shorter this time, but with even less light than before, they had to be even more careful. Again, Jounouchi took the lead, but there was a involuntary gasp of surprise as he reached the bottom that brought Yugi back to alertness. “Watch out, there’s some broken glass lying down here. Keep to your left…” Almost on cue, just as Anzu started the descent, an inhuman growl echoed from somewhere down the hall, inciting her into a much faster pace. Yugi followed her as fast as he could manage without slipping on what might as well be invisible steps, still able to keep his footing. But a moment later there was a heavy thud behind him and an odd crunch like the snap of something brittle. “Honda-kun? Are you alright?”
“Honda? Speak to me man, I can’t see shit down here,” Jounouchi sounded like he was trying not to show it, but the worry was thick in his voice, especially as more wild echoes sounded from above.
The sounds of shifting cloth and more crunching noises answered him then, “I’m…alright. Just landed wrong, that’s all.”
“Don’t scare us like that!” Anzu chided as they kicked it into motion again, trying to make tracks away from where the monsters were getting steadily closer. But soon enough, there was a light waiting for them at the end of the tunnel, literally in fact. The darkness abated further up ahead, giving way to buzzing florescents that would have been noticeably dim if they had real daylight to compare them to.
With the availability of light, Yugi could see an open emergency door through which a long hall extended. Through there they could move faster and lose the monsters with light to guide them by. The only downside was that the lock on the other side was sparking and broken, meaning that they couldn’t close the door behind them. Of course, Yugi didn't immediately see the significance of that, more concerned with the path on the other side.
But as they got a certain distance down the hall, the lack of one set of footsteps and a pained voice stopped them all in their tracks and spin around in shock. “Sorry guys, but this is as far as I go.”
Honda was still standing a good ways back, just before the open door, his expression locked into that of a pained grimace. “What the hell are you-” Jounouchi froze mid-sentence, realizing the same thing that the others had in that moment. Starting from his right knee, a red stain was spreading slowly downward, and glints of light reflected off of transparent shards embedded in his knee. _The glass!_ “You idiot! Why didn’t you say anything?” Too angry and upset to keep his voice down, Jounouchi’s shout echoed off the walls, and the noises of their pursuers grew even louder.
Honda shifted his weight and backed up further, bracing one hand against the outer wall. He jerked his thumb behind him as the growing cacophony, “Those monsters will be here any second, I can’t run any more and none of you are going to escape if you have to deal with me slowing you down!” A moment’s pause was all that he needed to continue, “I’ll…buy you just a little bit of time, hopefully,” His face curved into a resigned smile, and the only thing Yugi could think about was that this had happened before and his mind was screaming _'no, not again!’_
It was too familiar, too harsh. And this time there was no one on the other side to bail him out.
And Jounouchi realized what Honda was going to do and stalked towards him in a rush, “Don’t you fucking dare-!” | 4c64ad0ae1da4a938b7db96aff4779e4 | ['11f09fc225ad405a9e81a1611396ef52'] | Additionally, he had a location of where to find the beast. Eye witness reports from the refugees and various travelers moving along the same route placed the red dragon moving southeast, in the exact direction of a great cavern that had long been known to be the home of a territorial high-class dragon. The locals never saw what color it was, only that it was vastly protective of its lair and expelled intruders with a blast of white heat that sounded eerily similar in description to what the survivors of Basra felt. Due to the fact that no one living nearby was able to enter the lair for very long, it was assumed for the dragon to be mildly feral. Despite the sparseness of the information, the cave was currently his best bet, and such a huge red creature on the hunt couldn’t go unspotted for very long anyhow. It wasn’t a perfect approximation, but it was something.
Something was always better than nothing.
_< Seto, I know you’re worried,> _He halted in his tracks, black boots clicking lightly against tiles of pale grey marble. Kisara could read him too easily, more than any person he’d ever met. Of course, if that weren’t the case, would they still be partners? And naturally, she was a White; picking apart emotions and stress was like reading a book to her. If it were anyone else, pulling through the emotions he was generally content to shove into a box, Seto would have been horrified. Her voice trickled over his consciousness soothingly and calmed the race of strategy dashing through his mind, rather like a softly flowing river, _< I have faith in your plan, and you have faith in me, right?>_ He allowed a small nod, slowing his reckless pace through the polished halls of the sprawling mansion. _< Right, so if anything goes wrong out there, I’ll protect you.>_
Seto paused, taken off guard, one hand resting on the heavy, oak doorway leading out onto the balcony. <It shouldn’t come to that.> _…but thank you._
He pushed open the door, and there she was, standing at the railing of the too-large balcony (a necessity for a take-off for a dragon of her class), a satchel of packed essentials lying at her feet. Kisara was always quick to prepare for a journey, no matter how long or short, given that she too once lived among the wild. Hopefully, they wouldn’t gone long enough to need much of what she’s packed, but they never knew; it helped to be prepared. Sturdy traveling clothes adorned her in navy and stormy grey, elegant but not too fragile, matching with his proofed white coat.
They exchanged a nod and Seto took the satchel over his shoulders and stood back to watch. From the first time the white dragon had risen above the skyline and into his line of sight, Seto knew that he had to find her again. He’d seen the transformation about a hundred times by now, but he never got tired of it, seeing Kisara in her natural state. And he didn’t think he ever would either.
The claws and tail came first, curling outward in a flash of white scale that caught the light and threw sparks of blue across the ground in brilliant bursts. By the time the scales reached her elbows, the wings came next, exploding outward abruptly from her back and winding around her form. The light after that was too bright to look directly at, but the moment the wings pulled away, Kisara’s true form was revealed. A beautiful White-class dragon with flawless blue eyes standing on his balcony.
_< Please Seto, you’re embarrassing me.>_
He coughed, composed himself. They had work to do…
She tilted her wings, readied for flight and the Tamer in White pulled himself onto the smooth niche between her shoulder blades with the ease of someone who’d done so countless times before. Time to track down their rogue assailant, and capture or at the very least identify them, <Hopefully in time to return for dinner.>
Kisara’s chiming laugh through their link was the last thing Seto heard before mighty wings moved into action, launching them into the sky, and after their prey.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Today's notes-
>
> Dragon classes are divided into six distinct classes: Immortal, White, Black, Primary, Secondary, and Demi.
> \--
> White Class-
>
> The highest rank of dragon capable of bonding with a human and also exceptionally rare. White class are some of the most powerful mortal dragons in the world and being able to bond with one is considered a sign of power and prestige that can catapult a Tamer from unknown to legendary. Whites cannot assume their humanoid forms for as long as other classes, but are just as capable of miniaturizing themselves. Many Whites possess empathic tendencies to detect lies or sense the emotional state of those around them. Despite their power and fame, the inability of most Tamers to handle them makes them not as highly sought after as the Black class or Primaries.
>
> example: Kisara
2. Chase
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I made a promise to upload chapter two before I went back to TLS and I did!
* * *
Learning to fly for a Tamer was no simple matter, and no matter how many times one had done the deed, the act could never be as effortless and one tried to make it appear. Seto Kaiba knew this all too well. |
ca965f949c5b46a0bd67cc5210d939ab | ['12078deacebc4a57ae740bc579e383a9'] | A great battle ensued as the soldiers followed the formation that Xander had given them previously. The rain had made the conditions difficult for Nohr, though not unmanageable. The fog had thinned, and the temperature was cool. Corrin reluctantly staggered onto the battlefield with the Yato, her divine sword, when she saw a horrific sight that sent a furious tremor down her spine.
To her front was Takumi, the husband she knew and loved dearly, and here he was, aiming straight for her head. To her right was Kiragi, though his hair was a deep blue instead of white. He too, was aiming straight for her head. In front of him was Oboro, ready to strike with her spear at any moment. Corrin grimaced as she unknowingly backed into Jakob, who placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Milady... are you alright?"
Tears starting pouring down her cheeks as she watched her husband and son aim for her, destined to kill her.
_"I.... I can't... "_
Corrin caught a brief glimpse of the malefic aura she had encountered in her nightmares the last several days, as it slowly consumed Takumi. The way he was moving and holding his bow wasn't reminiscent of his normal actions. This Takumi clearly had no idea of their life together, or at least, he didn't remember in a similar way that she didn't remember her life with Leo.
"Milady, we're awaiting your orders."
Corrin stood at the entrance, ignoring Xander's orders to attack, Jakob protecting her from any rogue arrows or shots from the ballista. She watched as one by one Hoshidans were injured and forced into retreat, while on the other side of the battle came phantasmal screams from soldiers who were massacred without hesitation. The Yato was pulsating in her hand, almost painful to hold.
"Corrin! Why aren't you in the battle?!" Xander shouted as he pushed a Hoshidan archer to the ground, breaking his bow, causing him to run.
" _Xander I... I ..."_
"Your men need a leader! Get out there!" Xander moved up to Kiragi and Oboro, she standing firm, her spear pointed at Xander, Kiragi with an arrow at the ready.
"Get out of my way, I don't want to hurt you." He looked at them with regret, noticing how much the younger archer resembled the spear master.
"Nohrian Scum! You'll NEVER take Hoshido!" Oboro's face turned into an intense grimace as she lunged at Xander with her spear at the helm, aiming for his head.
"OBORO NO!" Corrin shouted as she ran toward Xander, his Siegfried in mid air.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Obviously Sakura wasn't "in chains" during this battle if you follow the actual game, and Kiragi most likely didn't exist (the game never specifically says the kids of the opposite side don't exist but then again it doesn't play up the kids much at all). Leo very obviously still cares about Corrin, I mean, he's not going to just phase her out like that psh.
>
> Also Odin and Niles, huhu. Niles is honestly fun to write, Odin may be a wee bit OOC here. I'd imagine if he was thinking of the awakening storyline, he's not being all "SWORDHAND" and etc etc.
>
> I know y'all are curious about Nohr!Corrin, just wait and see ;)
6. Manipulation
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The battle of The Great Wall of Suzanoh.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> \- lies on ground
> \- assumes fetal position
> ***** HUGEEEEEEEEEEEE Conquest Spoilers cause apparently I enjoy pain *GROSS SOBBING* *******
The stench of blood and death wafted over the fields between the Great Wall and Fort Jinya. Nohr was succeeding in their advance, overshadowed by the arrival of Garon and his own personal units who showed no mercy to anyone on the battlefield. Garon stood firm, watching as fear set across the battlefield, ordering his soldiers to attack their own men if he thought they were becoming more of a liability. He was truly a cruel, unjustifiably horrible man with a vile temperament.
The ballistae proved a difficult obstacle, as wyverns were shot out of the sky almost instantly. Archers were nimble, proving difficult to pin down. Xander, in his attempts at compassion, would choose not to kill but instead incapacitating his enemy, forcing them to flee. Leo fought in a similar style, using Brynhildr to knock out his foes or break their weaponry. Their other siblings, Elise and Camilla, also employed similar tactics though all did so out of Garon’s watchful eye. Despite the fact that he was their Father, he had no limitations on who would be killed if they disobeyed, or if he felt as though they weren’t performing well. Garon had no qualms about killing for the sake of killing.
The Yato was a divine blade that chose Corrin immediately after the castle town around Shirasagi was destroyed, and her Mother slain. It had gone through several upgrades in the time she had it; while in Hoshido it shone blue after being fused with Takumi’s divine weapon, the Fujin Yumi. In Nohr, however, it was shining a bright crimson red, Corrin not knowing why. Xander’s Siegfried was another divine weapon, a long sword imbued with darkness befitting of Nohr. | 64c70c812ba645f9bd6ab7611672816a | ['12078deacebc4a57ae740bc579e383a9'] | “Don’t argue with me.” Dwyer said sternly, moving the tea biscuits out of Kana’s reach. He had consumed almost half the tray. “I can’t shape you into a respectable Prince if you keep doing silly things like this.”
“FINE.” Kiragi glared at Dwyer as he two out two of the smaller knives and placed them in a box.
“Put them away properly.” He scolded. Kiragi did so, returning the box to a nearby shelf before sitting down in front of the bag, pouting.
“You’re not criticizing Kana for packing snacks!”
“The only thing he’s guilty of is spoiling his breakfast.”
Takumi walked into the room and took a tea biscuit form Dwyer's tray. Kiragi's bag was rather large considering he also had two full quivers and a bow to carry. Kiragi and Kana got along exceedingly well, as Kiragi was full of boundless optimism and brightness, while Kana was sweet if not a tad naive. Takumi often thought he didn't deserve such wonderful children given his own insecurities.
"Are you two ready?"
"Ready Papa!" Kana beamed, "Yep!" Kiragi smiled.
“We’ll need to get you a practice bow too, Kana.”
The trio left the home in the early hours of the morning; most of Echo had yet to awaken though there were rustles of a few soldiers throughout the camp. They grabbed a lightweight practice bow from the armory before heading into the forest just outside of the encampment, Kiragi and Kana laughing and chatting the entire way. Takumi enjoyed spending time with his sons, as they were cherished by him wholly; all in all he was an excellent father to them, and they adored him as well.
“Okay, now pull the string back, watch the tension…” Takumi guided Kana as he gradually pulled back the string, it bent the bow itself slightly, and the arrow would slide out of Kana’s fingers. He tried again and again, pulling further on the string each time, “Not that far back, you’ll break it.” Takumi warned, just as the string snapped, whipping Kana across the brow leaving a small cut.
“Ow!” Kana cringed as he dropped the bow, putting his hand to his head.
“Here, it’s not that bad.” Takumi pulled out a bandage and some healing salve from the bag and knelt before Kana as he removed his glove. Kana lowered his arm as Takumi applied the salve and the small bandage to the cut, which thankfully wasn’t deep.
“I’m no good at this Papa.” Kana pouted.
“You just need practice. You’ll get it.” He picked up the bow by Kana’s feet, “Let’s try again?”
“But I broke it!”
“Let me show you how to fix it, it’s not hard.”
Elsewhere, Kiragi was scouting for game, lightly humming to himself. He had spectacular eyesight and was an incredibly skilled hunter for his young age. Many would consider him a prodigy, while others say he inherited the natural abilities of his Father. In addition, he had a sunny disposition and was generally well liked. Takumi had successfully shown Kana how to replace the bowstring and adjust the tension, and it would take at least seven additional tries before Kana would successfully shoot an arrow more than two feet. It was highly reminiscent of when Takumi first trained Corrin, though she was a bit more skilled than Kana.
Back at home, Corrin was enjoying tea served to her by Jakob. He and Felicia were close by as she took several sips, speaking not a word or giving them a glance. Time seemed to pass slowly when the army wasn’t marching, though the people in the encampment welcomed the downtime. Corrin was finding herself feeling increasingly anxious as the hours wore on. The people themselves were perfectly lovely, and she entertained the notion that this normalcy was welcoming. At the same time however, it made her uneasy. She was getting to know the very people she had slaughtered in her world, and remorse became a constant companion. Seeing Sakura and Scarlet was especially difficult given what she had done to them.
“Umm… Lady Corrin, are you hungry? I can make you a snack…” Felicia asked quietly. Corrin was distracted by her thoughts, holding the empty tea cup for several seconds before setting it back on the saucer.
“Lady Corrin…?”
“Hm?” Corrin’s response was short and shallow as Jakob picked up the cup.
“Are you hungry?” She asked again.
“No, thank you.”
“O-oh okay..” Felicia took the cup from Jakob before exiting to the kitchen.
“Milady, are you unwell?” Jakob asked her, Corrin’s eyes were drawn to the floor. When she didn’t answer his message, he immediately removed his glove, pulled up his long sleeves and put his hand to her forehead, startling her.
“J-Jakob!?” She shouted, her cheeks red.
“Forgive the intrusion Milady, but you’ve been acting strangely for days,” He said as he removed his hand. “You don’t feel warm, thankfully.”
“I’m fine!”
“You know you can tell me anything that’s bothering you and I’ll happily listen.” He assured, fixing his sleeve after reaffixing the glove.
“I’m aware.” Corrin nonchalantly put her elbow on the arm of the chair, resting her chin in her palm. She averted her gaze to a nearby window where she could see Hoshidans conversing and laughing below.
“Perhaps the festival will cheer you up. We do need to prepare your outfit for it.” Jakob folded his arms, resting his fingers on his chin.
“Festival?” She asked.
“It’s a traditional Hoshidan festival.”
“Is it appropriate to have a festival in the middle of a war?”
“Well the army hasn’t dispatched in several days. Lord Ryoma is probably considering it a morale boosting experience.” Jakob moved both hands behind his back, “Besides, they’ve had this festival every year since we’ve been on the move.”
“Must have slipped my mind.” Corrin grinned slyly as the loud clanging of pans could be heard. |
39ca216affab4651bcc703aef5d5c0a1 | ['12079c57bc51486d98b46bbb8a3d3ab4'] | Dave had suggested you both went ice skating on the very frozen pond in the woods. You reluctantly agreed, but you were always up for spending time with Dave. You wouldn't tell him that, of course.
It was-well-quite awkward to say, at the least. He said he could ice skate, but in reality neither of you could, so you clung to him he whole time, holding hands more times than you think necessary.
You and him both could tell he was getting the hang of it quite quickly-within the first 25 minutes probably. You told him you would stand and let him
have fun without you weighing him down, so he skated around by himself for around 5 minutes.
It was very fun to watch-he was pretty graceful. Of course, there were a few slip ups but, you only laughed your ass off with him 1 time.
The temperature made his cheeks the prettiest rosy color you've ever seen-a color only he could wear, and his hair was nearly identical to the snow behind him. He didn't wear his shades today so his eyes were bright and lovely against the paleness of his face and the sky.
You eventually stood there for 20 minutes, fixated with the way his body moves on the ice and you know its no where near perfect or professional but thats the exciting part about it-the rush of doing good on something you're just learning.
He flashes multiple smiles at you and despite the cold, you melt. His smiles are so rare and so beautiful and you wish that he would show them more but. You can't really fix that, can you.
He skates over to the opposite end of the pond and stops.
"Skate over to me." He says.
You hesitate and nearly fall at least 3 times before you fall and- oh. He caught you. You both laugh hysterically- not that it was the funniest thing. You skate around for a few more minutes, not even thinking about letting go of his hand.
It starts snowing again and Dave puts your hood up for you because 1) he thinks its funny that you're short enough for it to be done easily and 2) he's a bit of a sweet bastard.
Inevitably you end up standing face to face with him and he says "Whoa. I can see your breath. That's cool." What a dumbass.
Your gaze goes to his lips almost too quickly and before you know it, you're practically lunging at each other. You've both fallen into the snow and he's giggling, which is fucking adorable, may you add. He kissed you quickly one more time then lifted you up and says something about walking back home.
You hold his hand the whole way back.
**Author's Note:**
> back again with that davekat!! whoops | f0e9d417e6604b208e707ff836a139dc | ['12079c57bc51486d98b46bbb8a3d3ab4'] |
1. Chapter 1
_then i heard your heart beating_
_you were in the darkness too_
_so i stayed in the darkness_
_with youLINK_
"Fuck!" Dave cursed as he tripped over yet _another_ wire laying around in his "respite block" or whatever Karkat called them. He was trying to make his way into the common room. Kanaya was usually up at this time, reading or knitting, usually. If you ran into her, you would ask her to make tea. You've actually expressed that you would like to be taught (you just could not grasp the whole concept, even though it was painfully similar to making ramen) but she declines. She said she'd rather make it, she enjoys the process.
But instead of your feet taking you to the common room, you float to Karkat's respite block. You're not sure why. It's 1:41 AM (or as you guys have dubbed the time) and everyone's sleep schedules have been adjusted to fit those of the trolls' nocturnal sleeping patterns. Karkat would be asleep now. Also, why are you on your way to see Karkat in particular? Yeah, he's your best bro ( ~~you wish it was more than that, though~~ ) but best bros gotta respect Rule #17 of the Bro Code: Don't interrupt a Bro's sleep. Ok, you just pulled that shit out of your ass. Your distracting yourself at this point, because, oh! You've suddenly reached Karkat's door and you're too scared to knock! Typical Dave. You turn around and start to walk back to your respite block, or maybe the common room, but...it doesn't exactly go to plan.
Your future self is shaking his head in shame, because you were standing on your cape. And tripped and fell. And dented the wall. And woke Karkat up, goddammit! You heard a faint rustling inside the room, and you sat paralyzed for a moment, until you realized you should probably get the fuck out of there. But it's too late. His door is already open. He see's you flat on your ass, wondering if death from embarrassment is just or heroic.
"...Dave? What the _fuck_ are you doing this late? Early? Whatever. What are you doing?" Karkat says, voice heavy with sleep. You can tell it's the first time he's gotten a good amount of sleep in a while, which makes you even more guilty. You disturbed his well deserved rest. There's copious amounts of bags under his eyes, and he has extremely messy hair. Messier than usual. It's oddly attractive, the way the rest of him is. His eyes are so unique, mostly gray, with more than a little bit of bright red showing through. And his lips, oh god his lips...
"DAVE! LISTEN TO ME GODDAMMIT!" And _fuck he's yelling at you!_
"Whoa there, calm down. What do you want?" You say as cool and nonchalantly as possible. But he can read you like an open fucking children's book, and he's told you before. It's unsettling.
"I will not calm down, and what I "want" is to know why you're pathetic ass is on the floor outside of my respite block, interrupting my well-fucking-deserved sleep? It's near 2 AM and if it wasn't for you being so goddamn noisy, I would've been tired enough to dismiss your bullshit and go right back to bed. But no. Your insufferable dickery has disrupted my life _yet again_." And damn. He's mad. Or cranky. Probably both, it's how he always is.
"Pffffffft. Dickery. Where did that come from? Do you even know what a dick looks like, Karkat? What have you been watc-"
"ATTENTION METEOR CREW! IT IS YOUR BRAVE LEADER OF JUSTICE AND FREEDOM SPEAKING! WE ARE ABOUT TO ENTER A DREAM BUBBLE! PREPARE YOURSELVES!"
And then the meteor is gone.
2. Chapter 2
_i took the stars from my eyes_
_and then i made a map_
_and i knew that somehow_
_i could find my way back_
When you open your eyes, you're standing in some field. The sky is bright, the sun is shining, and the place is filled with trees and flowers. Definitely not your dream bubble.
You wonder around the place aimlessly, not finding a single human (or troll) in sight. It's kind of frustrating. You just want to talk. Or hang out. Or argue for fuck's sake, its been a few hours (5 hours, 37 minutes, 45 seconds) since you've arrived here, and you're not sure you're going to make it out. That is, until you hear a loud yet familiar voice.
Karkat fucking Vantas.
You walk through a lot of fucking trees and plants until you see a group of your friends. How rude. All of them together, not giving shit that you're not there.
"Ok but seriously where the fuck is Strider. He was right next to me when we entered this goddamn dream bubble, I don't understand how he could have ended up so far away! And how long have we fucking been here?"
Oh. Karkat cares, at least. That kinda makes your heart flutter. But just a little bit. No a lot. Fuck, you gotta stop. All these gay thoughts flooding your mind like you're some instagram meme page admin. You can dream, though.
"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm right here. How did you all do without me? Did you all cry like a little girl? I bet you guys were about to fall apa-"
"Dave. Fucking. Strider. Shut your mouth for one _goddamn second, will you?_ You buldge-munching humans don't know how to shut your traps, do you?" By the time he's done talking Terezi and Vriska had wondered off to god knows where, and Rose stayed behind to tell you guys to "not get killed." Then it was just you and Karkat. |
92383f5782664e268b2642beb2c1e5fd | ['121a9565bc9b4416a95801d047d7c365'] |
Deku and Tokoyami are Edgelords
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you to Zoeticzostr.cos on instagram for editing this mess,, go check them out!!
Shouji and Kouda watched carefully as their friend walked up to the villain before them. He couldn’t have been much older than them. He was only slightly taller than Tokoyami, who had gone up to him. The boy regarded their friend with a flick of his eyes. He peeled the medical mask that he had on off of his face and make direct eye contact with Tokoyami. Taking that as a threat, he pulled out dark shadow. This led the boy to smile.
“I see the void has called to you as well, I can sense it in the way you hold yourself” the boy spoke in a manner that was slightly unnerving. Like an other dimensional being had come to Earth and tried to replicate what they had seen.
Tokoyami only graced his words with a nod small enough that most would not have noticed unless they had been as focused on the exchange as Shouji had been.
“Step down villain” Tokoyami said, shifting his position to be ready to fight. The villain ran forward first, speaking as whips of shadow came from his back.
“Ah, but shouldn’t pleasantries be exchanged first,” he tried grabbing Tokoyami’s arm but dark shadow deflected it, starting an attack of its own. “Of course, I already know who you are, but as one of your own,” The boy ducked under his attack at a speed that would seem unattainable in a different world. In a world where people could be born with the head of a bird or the ability to fly, a fast fighter was one more believable. He grabbed Tokoyami by the torso, suspending him in the air for just a second. “Fumikage, this fight will indeed be an enjoyable one,”
~~~
The boy was quiet after that and their fight continued. Shouji and Kouda had tried to intervene but eventually were knocked out by tendrils of shadow the boy had shot towards them. Tokoyami glared up at the boy he was fighting
“Yami,” he said to call him, “if you could knock me out like that, then why haven’t you?” The boy looked away for a moment, as if to contemplate, then red eyes met green ones and the boy smiled in a way that made his gut wrench.
“Because it’s much more fun this way, don’t you think?”
Tokoyami shuddered as the boy continued
“Ah how sweet a melody, Violence, but a rotted tooth yet to come, let us play in bliss as
death creeps ever closer, sing in joy as agony claws at our souls, sleep now while we have eyes to close, and hearts to shield,” He stepped forwards in a menacing way, but instead let himself fall back on to a bench of sorts, made of the shadows coming from his back. ‘Does this kid ever get quirk exhaustion?’
“Sit for a minute,”
Tokoyami opted instead to stand near the seat the boy had made. Instead of the hostile remark that he had anticipated the boy just chuckled. His laugh sounding like nails on a chalk board.
“Understandable but, I do have a question for you,”
“Yami, refrain from calling me that. I am here only so those with me don’t get hurt and to buy time ‘till the heroes come”
The boy looked at him again, his eyes dancing with anger and playfulness
“Hmm, heroes huh? Tell me Fumikage, why do you wish to become a hero, why not let the bitterness of your wrong actions turn blood sour and hearts black?”
Tokoyami thought for a moment before replying, letting the villain play his game but still on high alert watching out for his defeated friends.
“But the darkness isn’t bad is it? The darkness tis but a void but yet it is a friend to us all,”
“You would say that wouldn’t you, a future hero. But why not welcome the void with open arms, letting it enter inside you and clean you of all petty human emotions. It is easier that way. Less ways to get hurt.” The boy made eye contact again, but this time in his toxic green eyes was a serious look. One that should not be worn by anyone, much less a small boy, no more than 15.
“But then how shall I dance? How should I yell at Gods long forgotten? May you tell me how I ever shall feel true joy in life, or when shielding others from the darkness of our realm? Can I not hold the void in my arms and dance with it to the edge of comprehension instead?” He prompted back.
Yami paused for a minute before replying, his voice darker than before. From what he could tell, the topic had moved into a more personal realm.
“The void is dancing with all of us, spinning us in circles in its own game that we call life. Its arms holding us tight, mending our broken bones and hearts. Yet, what happens when you can no longer be healed, when the deeds that you have done fill your heart with a hole that can only be filled by the bigger whole of the void? Enjoy your dancing but know that all things come to an end,”
The bitterness in his voice flooded over Tokoyami. The boy with the bird head sighed before sitting next to Yami. Meeting his eyes and letting the fear from all of his past encounters with villains, the fear he has for his classmates, teachers, and family overflow inside of him and show through his eyes.
“Then dance I will, all things broken will not mend, but hope stays. A heart is not needed to feel, only the security of holding on to that of which you've already lost,”
The boy giggled again, the sound filling Tokoyami with a sense of dread
“Laughter is as empty as I am inside; but like drugs, the feeling is forever within you, the void cares not for the size of my heart, but I do not have one to care. Things like what you have said sometimes make me wish that I had never let the void into my heart and head. Maybe then I could feel more than indifference. To dance again, play, to feel joy in painting my home red with blood and white with bone. Maybe I could ask the void to teach me to dance again.”
Silence was held until Yami stood up and let the bench of shadows fall, watching in amusement as the hero in training fell to the floor.
“I think it is time for me to leave. Become a good hero for me Fumikage,”
He felt shadows wrap around his neck and before he could respond he was asleep. He awoke in a hospital bed with a headache. | 503c399828f84735aa31bc3dd0c2e910 | ['121a9565bc9b4416a95801d047d7c365'] | He wasn't unaware of how much his demeanor changed while he was skating which was one of the many reasons that he didn't let anyone, much less the extras who worked here, see him. By the time he got back on his feet he was practically fuming and practically ran on the ice to the new kid.
“Oi, What the fuck dude” Katsuki growled, “why were you watching me you fucking creep”
The other stood for a second, again looking like he was shocked by the way that he acted.
“Yo man i'm sorry I was ju-” he was cut off by a cough at the doorway. Ponytail walked in, her arms crossed over her chest sending a disapproving look at Katsuki and softening her expression when she caught Shitty Hair’s eyes.
“whatever” not wanting to deal with either of their shit right now he walked back out to the front area and pulled his hoodie off. Deku and Half and Half arrived next both already in uniform.
“Good Morning Kacchan” Deku smiled at him while hanging up his jacket.
“Fuck off Deku” Katsuki said without looking up from the piece of dirt he was flicking at on the counter. He saw Half and Half whisper something in Dekus ear and he groaned turning around to put his shoes and hoodie in the employee locker room to try and get away from them. But when he got there Pikachu, Soy Sauce and Pink Hair were already in there tying their skates talking about the kids lessons they were supposed to do today or something.
“Hey Bakugou!” Pikachu nodded to him.
“Hey!” Soy Sauce said, “there's supposed to be a new guy here today”
“Oh really?!” Pink Hair asked “what's he like?”
“Don't know, none of us have met him yet” Soy Sauce pointed out
“He's annoying as shit” Bakugou stated
“Bakugou” Pink Hair whined, “that's not ve-”
“I wasn't talking about you” he snapped, “i was talking about the fucking new kid”
“You met him?” Pikachu asked.
“He got here at ass o’clock and interrupted me while I was trying to skate”
“Bakugou did you kill him?” Pink Hair asked mockingly
Katsuki only growled in response, dropping his stuff in front of his locker and walking out of the locker room.
He checked his phone and it was now 7:56 so he opted to look for ponytail and see what he’d be doing today. When he found her she was at the counter unlocking the register.
“Oh, Bakugou?” she asked looking up once she heard him cough
“What am I doing today” he grumbled in a low tone. Ponytail gave him a small smile setting down the key
“I was hoping” she paused “that you could do check in with the new boy, his names Eijiro Kirishima, I saw you met earlier and he's very good with people, so later i'm probably gonna put him for kids lessons but since it's his first day..”
“You want me to work with Shitty Hair?” he asked bluntly glaring at her. Ponytail sighed clearly not up for his shit this morning.
“I'm not asking you to be his best friend Bakugou, just get him used to the new job” she looked up at him from her seat and added “besides if he can deal with you then he’ll be ready for everyone”
“What the fuck did you say to m-”
“Get to work Bakugou”
Katsuki grumbled some colorful curses under his breath while walking to the check in desk, hopefully he could get Shitty Hair to do all the talking if he was good at it like Ponytail had said. Today he really didn't feel like showing some new kid where all the shoe sizes are, he’ll leave that to someone else.
Eijiro watched the blonde boy practically stomp away from him and who he guessed was a supervizor. His theory was confirmed when he glanced at her nametag which had her name with supervizor written underneath in small letters.
“I'm sorry about Bakugou” she said glancing at the door quickly before bring her eyes back to him. “I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. I’m guessing you’re Kirishima-san?”
“Yea! It's really nice to meet you Yaoyorozu-san” Yaoyorozu smiled at him,
“Do you have skates” she asked
“Oh-um no not yet” he admitted scratching the back of his neck.
“Hm, ok well you can work check in today then. we’ll have you on the ice in a few days, is that good?”
“Yea sure, man” Kirishima smiled at her
“Ok good. Why don't you head to the locker room then? You can get introduced to Sero, Ashido and Kaminari.
“Great! Thanks so much Yaoyorozu-san”
The girl only smiled in reply turning around and leaving out the door that Blonde Guy, Bakugou he corrected himself, left out of.
When Kirishima went into the room in the back labeled staff locker room he recognized three of the faces that he had seen briefly in the pamphlet. Before he could even say hi, the pink haired girl made eye contact and immediately sprung up from her seat with impressive speed. That caused the other two in there to turn their heads to him.
“Um, hi?” he said, very aware of the three sets of eyes glued to him. But most of his doubts were erased when the bubbly pink haired girl started speaking.
“You must be the new guy Bakugou was talking about” she said excitedly “i'm Mina Ashido!” a name he recognized.
“Hanta Sero” the black haired boy said
“John Cena” the practically yellow haired boy said with a grin on his face. But a jab in the side made him squawk indignantly and Ashido introduced him as Denki Kaminari. Eijiro felt his face light up and his shoulders sag in the relief that none of these people seemed to be as, well violent, as the guy that he had met this morning.
“Im Eijiro Kirishima” he said, still smiling. |
a0147728ee5544d09bc43174bb0135eb | ['1237219b3ef04449aa99f74d47f28afa'] |
hungry
In another life Yoo Seonho would like to be a panda. All they do is laze around and people bring tons of bamboo to it, enough to eat five meals a day. The pandas at Taipei Zoo look more content than him, homesick and hungry.
If the skills to be a panda involved looking dopey and cute, Seonho would like to think he’s more than halfway there. And more than puzzling through his homework, lying on his back while stuffing his face with food seemed like the better life choice.
Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on that student exchange. Really, what was thinking? It would be fun? Yeah, maybe for the first week or two where he just played around and ate all kinds of foreign food, but now the novelty has kind of worn off and the portion size is too small to quell his still growling tummy.
And that is a problem he can’t seem to solve, seeing that half the time he’s pointing at something on the menu and hoping it’s something tasty (it is). He can’t ask the lady serving the food to “please give him a lot please~” in Chinese like how he can in Korean. Or he could, but he’d be stared at like he’s grown another head.
So he could dream of being reborn as a panda. Or he could pretend to be a Mature Adult and get himself some food. Except the small fridge is tragically empty and Seonho is a little scared to head out at 11pm at night in a foreign country. Regardless of what he tells his mum, he’s pretty sure his parents know that he is still just a little afraid of the dark.
Sighing, he opens his laptop and searched up food delivery services to their part of the island. There are heartbreakingly few services, and sadly no Korean ones. Most of them charge steep markups for delivery at godforsaken hours, not that Seonho blames them. Clicking around, he settles on some fried chicken delivery. Hopefully it’ll be like the Korean one and have a taste of home.
_Thank you for ordering from BuCe’s Fried Chicken. Your delivery is estimated to arrive in 5 minutes._
_Your delivery person is outside of your building, please down to collect your food._
_Please come down quickly._
_COME DOWN ALREADY_
Startled by the buzzing of his phone, Seonho looks away from his homework. Right. Shit, he totally forgot about his food! Rushing down the stairs two at the time, he stumbles out into the cool air of the night, only to see a delivery guy wearing his helmet and getting ready to depart.
“Ya! Sorry! Stop! My fried chicken!”
It’s the thought of loosing the fried chicken that causes him to panic and scream in Korean. He’s struggling for his poor grasp on Chinese when the delivery driver turns around.
“Took you long enough.” He grumbles in Korean, as he takes the packet of fried chicken out of the delivery basket.
Holy. He was already flustered enough by the entire being late thing, but seeing the delivery guy is making him even more flurried. Now don’t get Seonho wrong, he’s had more than his fair eyeful of tall handsome and attractive guys (normally seniors) from playing too much basketball, but this delivery boy (or delivery man) is easily the most attractive being in both Korea and Taiwan combined. Deep voice, firm gaze and generally gorgeous. So hot. Seonho’s certain he’s twelve years older than him and married with two kids, like how all his ill-fated crushes are always unattainable.
“Korean?” He asks, jaw dropping. What are the odds?
“No. Just know some Korean. It’ll be 350TWD.” The boy glares down at Seonho and suddenly feels super self-conscious. Seonho doesn’t know much (or anything actually) about seducing, but he’s certain his loose school tee and basketball shorts are Not It. It’s not even good for storing his wallet, which he now remembers is sitting atop his desk.
Wow. Yoo Seonho, just great. First you’re late to pick up the food your ordered, Hot Delivery Guy is Spicy Hot Wings Spicy and also mad at you wasting his time and now you’re going to waste more of his time.
“Wallet…Upstairs…” He says in mangled Chinese, pointing at his dorm upstairs.
“Make it quick. And speak Korean.”
Seonho makes a dash for it. As much as he’ll like to take this rare opportunity to gawk at mad eye candy, he’s been raised a polite boy and it isn’t nice to bother people just trying to make a living. Quickly, he grabs his wallet, checks that he has enough money to not embarrass himself (again) in front of the delivery guy and makes his way back to the ground floor to pay for his chicken.
“Sorry! Really sorry for wasting your time! I’ll be more responsible next time!”
“It’s hard to be a foreigner. It’s okay.”
Seonho is Weak. Man, what wonders do gruff but kind guys do for his weak hormonal heart. Especially gruff guys who look good with fanny packs and plain shirts. And the Best Eye Candy Ever is going to ride away, and Seonho wouldn’t be Seonho if he doesn’t rashly try to get his name.
“Can I have your name? I want to leave a good review for your excellent service and maybe you’d get a raise or something..” He’s rambling now.
“Guanlin. And don’t bother. My parents aren’t going to give me a raise.”
Hot Delivery Guy, no, Guanlin rides away with his Heart, because Seonho is a dramatic teenager with a mound of puppy crushes. Even though maybe it’s a slightly bigger puppy crush because Guanlin’s parents own the fried chicken shop, one of Seonho’s childhood ambitions. It’s okay, because fried chicken will make his grumbling tummy feel better instantly.
\--- | 882c964279204c67b19a1d868b4eb3b5 | ['1237219b3ef04449aa99f74d47f28afa'] |
pizza boy
Guanlin thought he’d made it abundantly clear to his group members Daniel and Seongwoo that no, he did not like eating pizza. How would he _like_ eating stale cardboard and strong tomato paste? It’s a waste of calories, and Guanlin would like to think he’s got a pretty nice body for not working out too much. Well, he doesn’t have Daniel’s abs, but at least his stomach isn’t sticking out. That’s enough for Guanlin. He’s got no serious desire to be a sweaty muscle pig.
Daniel being Daniel refuses to understand because how can anyone not like pizza? Everyone likes pizza. (Except his definition of _everyone_ is extremely sketchy because he also claims _his world is Seongwoo)_ Thankfully he quickly shuts up when Guanlin suggested force-feeding him chicken feet because he _just can’t_ understand why Daniel doesn’t like chicken feet. Because _everyone_ likes chicken feet.
Still, Guanlin’s resistance isn’t enough to stop Daniel and Seongwoo from dragging his unwilling body over to Hwang’s Pizza for lunch after club practice is over. Something about it being Daniel’s treat after winning some prize money at some competition or another and wanting to treat everyone.
Guanlin appreciates the sentiment, but you will not catch him enjoying the treat at all. It’s not that he doubts Jisung’s assurance that it’s really high-quality, affordable and well made pizza. It’s pizza. And Guanlin hates pizza. That’s all that matters.
If he’s being fully honest, he might even hate pizza joints. Hwang’s Pizza is probably everything he hates about pizza joints rolled in one. They’ve got those garish red cushions meant for groups of 4 to 8 (way too many people). All the groups are either large gatherings of friends or families with hyperactive children, which means too much damn noise that gets tiring after the first fifteen minutes.
He gets it, family-friendly outlets with affordable prices are a force for good he’ll probably appreciate when he grows up (according to Jisung), but he’s got a sneaky feeling that his kids will enjoy Chinese food and spicy hotpot, thank you Sungwoon.
“Hi! Welcome to Hwang’s Pizza~Best Pizza Served with A SMILE! I’m your server today, Yoo Seonho! What kind of pizza would you like today! All the pizzas are delicious!”
Yeah, and that too. Chatty and annoying servers who think you’re they’re best friend or something. Always way too bright and keep pestering you to spend more money because apparently everyone needs pizza or something like that.
“Are you really not eating Guanlin? The pizza here is really good!” Daniel says, throwing out puppy eyes that have the effectiveness of Absolutely Zero on Guanlin. (They do have an effectiveness of Shut Up And Take My Money on Seongwoo, who lets Daniel get away with way too much for just looking like a sad pug. Guanlin swears he will never be that Whipped)
“Yep.”
Really, how many times does Guanlin have to turn down offers for pizza? You’d think these people older than you have more life experience and understand what No stands for, right? Apparently they do, but they can’t comprehend what I Don’t Like Pizza means. Idiots.
“I’m sure you can find something you like here! They’re 35 flavours of pizza and sides to go with the pizza! Let me recommend-“
Oh god, can the server get any more annoying? Can he stop sounding hopped up on sugar (or pizza) and permanently over-excited about life? There is nothing so good or exciting about life. You live and you die. The End. Guanlin looks up to glare at the server with his patented Death Glare that makes even the bright Yoon Jisung shiver.
Wait, shit.
What the hell.
Since when were pizza servers so squishy and cute and after Guanlin’s stone cold heart? How can someone say the word pizza so many times and have Guanlin eating out of his palm thinking yeah maybe pizza doesn’t sound like the Devil’s food after all? Who gave this Yoo Seonho the right? He’s way too cute to be a server, a rookie actor seems more like it.
“So what would you like?” He chirps, and Guanlin feels his heart sing. “I recommend the Hwang Special, it’s my favourite pizza!”
Right, pizza.
Guanlin’s heart sinks. As much as he’s already formed an instant puppy crush very adorable server who’s only smiling at him because that’s his damn job, he can’t actually put himself through the slow and painful torture that is eating pizza. After all, this Yoo Seonho is just after the tip, Right? Right.
“Garlic bread.”
“How about the Garlic Cheese Pizza? It’s got this lovely garlic and basil base that tastes really close to the one garlic bread! The crust is twisted with cheese inside it and it oozes out when you pull a piece out!”
Yup, he’s really hoping to get a large tip. Does he make a commission by upselling pizzas to customers?
“Garlic bread.” Guanlin says firmly, refusing to let his No Pizza This Year vow be swayed by cute waiters who probably has a pretty girlfriend who’s his childhood sweetheart or something, because Life is a bed of roses, they have damn thorns and prick you where it hurts the most. In this case, Life is taunting him by placing a cute guy who is 200% Guanlin’s type in a pizza place that is negative 200% Guanlin’s taste.
“Don’t mind him, Guanlin really hates pizza.” Jisung says, trying to get the waiter to let up a little.
“But the pizza here is really delicious… it’ll change your mind, Guanlin!”
Oh god. Now the Seonho has decided to adopt a first-name basis with him and Guanlin can feel himself getting weak. What’s 500 calories and ten big bites of hell if it makes Seonho smile, right…
“Seonho! Stop bothering the customers!” The owner yells, and Seonho lets out a panicked yelp. |
9cd9ed66dd3c4c3c8f84a9972381df63 | ['123fd8701e7946cca811a2fec5d4e501'] |
Fogging Up
**Author's Note:**
> Au info at end
If Tony were to be honest with himself and others at this moment, he'd have exclaimed that this was certainly not what he had expected. Not when he woke up a five-thirty, not when he drank his first - of many - coffee, not when he read his emails and checked in for updates with Friday. No, this was unanticipated.
At ten-thirty five, an emergency call from Japans Special Ability Department, attempting to push past fridays block to reach him immediately.
With mild curiosity in mind, Tony had replied apprehensive, a tall disheveled bespectacled man greeting him curtly.
"Good evening, Mr Stark." The man begun, heavy Japanese accent laced with distress.
"Good morning...?" Tony prompted, taking another sip of his coffee before sitting on the edge of his workbench.
"Sakaguchi Ango, assistant counselor of the Special Ability Department." Tony hummed in response.
"We.. Would very much appreciate your assistance in gathering an individual we believe to have crossed into America early this morning." Sakaguchi shifted, glancing at someone out of view.
"And who is this? Terrorist? Arm's dealer? Alien?" Tony hardly paid attention to the ping from the projection signaling he'd just received said information, instead remaining staring at the Counselor.
"A mafioso, specifically one of Japans Port Mafia's executives, Dazai Osamu. He confronted by officers with a warrant for his arrest yesterday evening and is believed to have hitched a ride on a boat to a near by port in New York." Tony rose a brow at this, requesting Avengers assistance on a fleeing mafioso seemed rather rash.
"What makes him so much of a threat that the Avengers must intervene?" Tony inquired, catching a tired sigh in return as the man slumped a fraction.
"Osamu has 135 confirmed murders, 267 cases of battery or assault, and 548 cases of fraud on his hands right now. And he is gifted."
"Gifted? Elaborate?" Count his interest fully peeked, as he stood up and swiped his arm, dragging the documents they had provided for him to view. Opening said file revealed a body list so extensive he cringed, with many unsightly post mortem images, torture evident in many.
"Like a mutant, but we do not refer to gifteds as mutants. It is disrespectful here, in our eyes. Anyway, he has an ability, but we do not believe it much affects his genetic makeup," the man paused for a moment, before beginning again. "Aside from some possible psychological differences, though it is difficult to tell, what with preexisting mental illness being more visible in the public eye, nowadays." Tony nodded, currently scrutinizing several blurry pictures seemingly from security cameras.
"What is his ability?"
"It is called No Longer Human. An anti ability, if you will. His ability is an attack on other abilities," the man begun, hands gesturing slightly as he spoke.
"When he touches someone, he nullifies their abilities, no ability out there can affect him, and there is only one other known person out there with an ability that targets abilities. He's a two in a kind." Sakaguchi explained, exhaustion wearing worry lines into his face.
"Sounds dangerous. After we pick him up, how are you gonna contain him?" Tony found himself curious to the answer, wondering how a man who could render any ability ineffective with a body count that impressive can be held down.
"We have been in contact with Charles Xavier to see if he would be willing to work with... Rehabilitating Osamu to the best extent possible."
"Doesn't that guy specialise in working with kids?" Tony questioned, sending a notification down to the others that they had a mission to fulfill.
"Osamu is fifteen." That stopped Tony, he glanced up at the live footage of the man incredulously.
"Come again?"
"He is a fifteen year old, he is the youngest Port Mafia Executive in history."
"Thats... Fairly off putting. Yeah, really off putting. Makes sense, in a way, no one would suspect a kid to be a high level mafia staff."
"I suppose so," Sakaguchi began hesitantly, mulling over his next choice of words carefully.
"Will you accept our request of help? We'd be in great debt to you," Sakaguchi looked suddenly extremely serious, gaze no longer wandering, but fixated, steely.
Tony thought, or at least pretended to.
"Yeah sure, we'll handle it for you. Get the kid somewhere safe and controlled." The man deflated with relief.
"Thank you, Mr. Stark. Japan thanks you." The man bowed, and Tony waved the call away unceremoniously.
"Hey Friday, call Steve and Nat up. And... Oh! Rhodey too, while your at it? Thanks."
____________
Seven hours earlier
A young man, thin, lanky and eccentric trailed down the street, weaving between people, two men pushing towards him, shouts of protest at his continued travels.
He bumped into a woman, who hissed profanity at him, his crutch knocking into a mans ankle, earning an annoyed huff. He turned down near the Yokohama ports, the crowd beginning to thin as he smelt the salty air.
"Dazai Osamu, you are under arrest for 135 murders, 267 cases of battery or assault, and 548 cases of fraud! You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law-"
Bang
One of the men who had been rapidly approaching fell down in a twitching heap, little hole between his eyes oozing blood and brain matter down his face along with staining the grimy pavement.
"God... Hey! Hands behind your head or I will open fire!" Dazai ducked behind a shipping container, shoving the pistol into the holster at his hip and wielding the crutch as if it was a bat, as the man turned the corner created by the container.
One hit, two hits, three hits, down. A stomp to the throat and the man was affectively down.
The shriek of sirens were approaching, and sticking around seemed like an unpleasant plan. Hobbling, he began at a surprisingly leisurely pace, despite the situation, towards the large shipping boat.
What a goddamned mess.
**Author's Note:**
> Things are changed up, like Ango and Oda meeting Dazai earlier, and things just happening when Dazai is a little younger. (Mafia Dazai is awesome, don't blame me lmao) | 5f82e309fb4f43f6934272c3c87036fb | ['123fd8701e7946cca811a2fec5d4e501'] |
The Discussion of Humanity
Imagine this:
You wake up, you spend your day around ability users. Ability users whom are wary of your ability. Being an ability user, you'd already be an outcast, but being an ability user who's abilities entire purpose is to reduce others abilities to nothing, as long as skin to skin contact remains.
So when Dazai Osamu went to grab Shizuo Heiwajima's fist mid punch, and the strength never faultered, never stuttered. You could colour him curious.
Backtrack, why not?
At 10:35 in the morning, Dazai Osamu set out, with tracking this man down in mind.
There was a pep to a bandage swaddled teens step, with his head swathed in bandages, dark prim and proper suit and long far too large black coat draped over his shoulders, he stood out amongst the people of Ikebukuro steered clear of the young man, sensing trouble rolling off of him in thick waves.
He was a man on a mission, not an assigned one, but one of pure curiosity. A taste for the unknown. And the unknown, today, was the beast of Ikebukuro. A man so temperamental, so hostile, that in and of itself should be enough to steer clear of him. But take said prior traits, then give him super strength? Hell on earth.
Of course, a man so fascinating is to be studied, watched, tested and prodded. To be observed and learned from, and that was Dazai's goal. Get to the man, provoke him into a fight, and observe.
From what he'd learned, Shizuo Heiwejima work as the body guard of a debt collector be the name of Tanaka Tom, and was well know for taking to violence early on to gather the owed money, often jumping the gun if he got emotional.
A few years ago, he spent a stint in jail after being pinned for a crime he hadn't committed. They'd come to the conclusion fairly quickly that he wasn't guilty of the crime, and he was released.
He was the eldest brother of Kasuka Hewejima, now named Yuuhei Hanejima on screen. The young man was known to visit his brother on occasion, so some people had connected the dots to know that each other.
According to previous classmates of Shizuo's, he had a strong tendency to start fights, he could level a group of twenty in mere moments in high school, and rumour of his involvement during the slasher incident told a story of him being able to take on far more people than merely twenty.
Dazai kept this in mind as he set about in his search for the man.
In front of him stood a sushi shop by the name of Russia Sushi, where a tall, heftily built dark skinned man was handing out flyers to passersby. Dazai strode towards him before stopping about four feet away, greeting him with a smile.
"Ето Russia Sushi? Ты не Simon?" He had no doubt that his Russian was flawed and simplistic, but it was certainly not something you learn overnight. The man stared at him briefly before a grin broke across his face.
"Я Simon, есть ли проблема? чем могу помочь?" The man inquired, handing the young executive a paper with the restaurants details.
"я ищу Shizuo Heiwejima." Dazai tucked the slip of paper into his pants pocket, likely to be thrown out later. He had no use for it, he wasn't from Ikebukuro, and wasn't likely to visit frequently.
"ты друг Shizuo's? или враг?" Simon's face turned grave for a moment, and the man's suspicion on brought a larger grin to his face.
"только любопытно, он кажется очень интересным." He mustered his best innocent look, and the two stared at one another briefly.
"Shizuo at restaurant called Café de Vine, doing work." The man switched back to broken Japanese, a grin breaking across his face.
"Ah, thank you sir." He gave a curt wave as he began to walk away.
"не доставлять хлопот, Demon Prodigy." The man warned. Dazai paused, and chanced a look backwards.
"конечно." A smile.
\----
"Heiwejima Shizuo, hello!" Dazai stepped in front of the man, a bright grin on his face as he gave an exaggerated wave of his left hand.
"Eh? How are you?" A few passes ahead of him was a man with heavy dreads and glasses, speaking to an older fellow.
"I've heard plenty about you. Picking up cars and throwing them? Rather impressive, yes?" He disregarded the question and crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his hip.
"Kid, whatever fanaticism your playin' at, I don' like it. Bugger off." Shizuo side, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He set the cigarette between his lips and clicked on a lighter to light the cigarette.
Bang.
Shizuo blinked as dully registered pain in his hand that had been holding the lighter. Blood trickled downwards from a gaping hole, about the width of his pinky finger in the palm of his hand.
"Huh?" Slowly, he looked back to the boy in front of him, eyes landing on his bandaged hand that grasped a black pistol. He followed zaid arm upwards, black clothes, brown tussled hair, bandaged throat, head swathed in even more damn bandages, and a smirk that reminded him of that damn flea.
"Huh?!" He growled, face curling into one of anger as he crushed the lighter in his damaged hand, feeling the lighter fluid stinging the wound.
He dropped the cigarette from his mouth to the floor and ground it into the pavement with his foot.
"You just fucking shot me?!" He bellowed, reaching over and tearing a nearby sign from the ground and hefting it into a hold not unlike he was holding a baseball bat.
"I did." Dazai shrugged, taking teasing step forward as he swung the gun around slightly. Everyone's eyes were on them, sending wary glances between the two of them. |
fa6e1d583c144f75bda6e5426c782607 | ['1260053e59d84739951bccb1311bf59b'] |
Hazel
**Author's Note:**
> I don’t know why I do this to myself honestly HAHAHAHAHA. I cried doing this so uh enjoy! don’t kill me plz ( ´ ▽ ` )
English is not my first language so please excuse me :)
Kunikida had just give Atsushi a folder with the information of the mission he was tasked with. Atsushi flipped the pages fast reading through the folder.
“This is no easy mission so no joking around.” Kunikida crossed his arms. Atsushi looked up at Kunikida from the folder. “I’ll do my best not to let you down!” Atsushi was beaming with energy and excitement. Giving back the folder to Kunikida, he walked to open the office door when Dazai stepped in. They bumped into each other causing them both to fall down at the entrance.
Atsushi froze up. Dazai was on top oh him. ‘_Oh my god oh my god oh my go—‘ “_I-I’m so sorry Dazai-san!” Dazai’s face was on atsushi’s chest. Looking up at atsushi and letting out a laugh. “Awh~ _Sushi_-kun looks very cute like this~” he teases.
Atsushi blushes at the statement. “Uhm Dazai-san can you please get off now?” He can’t take it any longer. He’s going to explode if it does. “Is Sushi-Kun blushing?~” Dazai pokes atsushi’s face. Atsushi pushed Dazai off harshly and went out with a loud ‘sorry’. Dazai landed with a ‘oof’ and still Layed out on the floor.
Finally Ranpo who was in the same room spoke up. “You just had to tease him like that” eating his chips. “What his reactions are cute~” he stood up. “Ah yeah, Kunikida~~” slowly walking to his desk. “What?? Are you finally going to do your paperwork??” Kunikida snapped. Dazai ignoring what he said, “where’s Atsushi-Kun is going?”
Instead of Kunikida answering Ranpo answered. “He’s going on a solo mission near your old work place.” Dazai froze for a few seconds. “Hahaha you’re joking right?” “He’s not” Kunikida replied. “It’s fine he’ll be safe, he can control his ability now” Dazai sighs. ‘_I hope he stays safe’ _
* * *
Atsushi walks through a dark long alley. “I think I got lost” he kept walking turning right and left and suddenly it got even darker and deeper.
“_Jinko_”
‘_This voice it’s—‘_
he turns around.
”_Akutagawa_” he scowled.
”After losing on the ship, did you come here to duel again? Do you have a death wish?”
without waiting for an answer Akutagawa summons rashomon and attacked Atsushi.
Quickly transforming, he dodged the attack. ”Look I don’t have time for this!“ landing on all four. “Don’t you feel embarrassed to have such a powerful ability yet so weak?” _Snap. _
_‘Fight back’_
.._No_..
_’Attack’_
.._no_
_’**kill**’_
_..NO_
_the tiger is awake. _
_“_Shit_—“. _he cant control it. He couldn’t.
His body changed into a full tiger and moved on its own. Atsushi can see everything whats going on. But he can’t _control_ it.
His body jumps on the wall, running towards Akutagwa while he was off guard and bites his right shoulder. Aku used rashomon to get the tiger off and cursed. He squeezed his bleeding shoulder with a grunt.
“So you finally snapped” no response from the tiger infront of him. Just yellow eyes staring back at him with a growl. “And here I though you could control your ability already?”
**Boom**
a loud noise was heard at the back of them two. Chuuya showed up. “Dammit Akutagwa I told you to focus” he scratched his head. “What the fuck were you doing— _tiger_?”
no response.
”he snapped when I said something earlier now the tiger is in full control” “Well I guess it can’t be help , let’s have some fun” Chuuya smirks. His body starts glowing with red light.
* * *
Dazai was spinning around in his chair while he got unbalanced and fell. “Stupid bandage bastard start working!” Kunikida shouted and the others giggled. Suddenly dazai felt uneasy. He had a bad feeling about something. He looked at Ranpo if he knew what’s happening and Ranpo looked right back at him. He looked uneasy too. Kunikida felt tension between them and asked Dazai what’s wrong. Dazai stayed silent. Ranpo spoke up, “its the usual Alley, The Emo kid and shorty is both there”. Dazai sprung up from the floor, “Yosano follow me..” followed by a soft _please_. Yosano nodded and quickly ran after Dazai.
‘_Fuck I knew I should’ve followed him, please stay safe. I need you alive Atsushi’_
* * *
Atsushi was panting heavily. His sides were bleeding his eyes is covered with swear mixed with blood. His vision is getting blurry and he can feel his body getting weaker.
“You don’t give up do you?” Chuuya stood on a floating huge rock. He smashed it into pieces and shot it towards Atsushi. He tried to avoid it but he was too weak. Rocks cuts through his skin. The attack kept going on. He can feel his body being torn and aku wasn’t making it any better, rashomon was holding him in place while chuuya punched him.
‘_It’s ove_r’ he can’t possibly beat chuuya let alone aku.
His body drooped. He was bleeding too much. Strength is leaving his body. He just _can’t_.
he coughed out blood. Everything was a mess. His head was a mess, _he_ was a mess.
’i_m sorry_..’ he says in his head
‘I’m sorry for letting you down, I’m sorry ..I’m sorry .. dazai..’
Chuuya stopped punching him. It seems that he said Dazai’s name out loud. He knows he screwed up even more.
“In all of this you get from me you dare say **his** name infront of my face?!” Chuuya got angry and gave him a last slap to his face. “Next time, remember the name of your enemy infront of you. If you still live after this anyways, _Nakahara Chuuya” _he flew on top of the building. | a27e48bd230a4e47aa2e2c02598c25e7 | ['1260053e59d84739951bccb1311bf59b'] | “Aku lets go” Aku let’s go of Atsushi and went after Chuuya and have him a last look. He didn’t say anything but it tells him _**pathetic**_.
Atsushi is relieved that they’re gone but the tiger is too weak to self heal and he’s unsure if he can live through this. He wanted to cry, he let the agency down. He is a disappointment.
he can see the headmaster standing infront of him.
‘_This is why you should die, you should’ve died earlier_.’
”I guess I deserved this.” He let out a small sad laugh. His chest hurts. Everything was burning. He transformed back into human. His clothes were tattered but evenmore is all soaked with his own blood.
‘Where did I go wrong..’
* * *
it Started to rain. Looking up at the dark sky. He was reminded of a beautiful orange sky. It was the day he met dazai. When he pulled dazai out of the river, ‘_beautiful_’ was the first thing came into his mind. He fell in love with the older man before he knew it. He never told him how he loves his hazel eyes, his soft hands, his fluffy hair. The times Dazai would tease him about his haircut or height. Tickling him when he’s asleep on his desk. Telling stupid jokes. Smiling at him when he was caught staring. He loves all the moments with him. It makes him feel loved and alive. Makes him feel like he has permission to live. A reason. To be free.
_Is this what they call memories in the last moments? I think it’s a nice way for last moments._
he curled up into a ball hugging his torso. He feels his tears slipping down his cheek mixing with the rain. He hears his name being called out. It’s dazai voice. It must be the memories. He squinted his eyes, he sees brown.
“Dazai.. “ he reached out to touch it. _It’s_ _there. It’s real. He can see his face above him, but why is he frowning? WhY was dazai sad? He was crying_.
“Dazai-San,” he hugged his neck “ Don’t cry... it’s alright,...it’s going to be...’kay “ he feels him self being pulled off.
“You’re not okay, why did you touch me, now your ability stopped working a-and you’re—“ Atsushi hushed him.
“**_I won’t make it”_**
Yosano was at the side. She too knew it was far too late. So she let them have their moments and turned around. She can feel herself crying. She calls the agency and told them that she’s coming back, alone.
Dazai’s eyes was wide open. “No.. no no You will! yosano is right here we can make it!” He tried to sound cheerful, to sound full of hope. He smiled, but tears were falling. He brought Atsushi in his chest.
”Dazai-San..” he reached out to wipe his tears. “Stop talking save your breath we’re going to make it just—“
_i love you _
The hand on his face dropped, “Atsushi? Wake up, don’t joke around Atsushi “
he looked down on his face. It was pale, and a slight smile was shown. _He’s dead._ Dazai lowered himself . He hugged the body tighter. Keeping the warmth that was still there. A hand behind atsushi’s head. He was alone again. Tears streaming down his face. The sound of rain was slowly disappearing. All he can hear is his own crying.
_I love you too idiot.._
He hates the world. He hates god, he hates his life until he met Atsushi. Everything changed, he didn’t want to suicide anymore. He thanked god For letting him meet an angel. Yet he knows he’s going to lose the ones precious to him. He didn’t want it to end this way. He can’t live without him. He had planned to ask him out later in a date. He was excited. He loved him,
_He loved him,_
_and now he’s gone._
**Author's Note:**
> Please leave a kudos! It’s much appreciated if you do. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ I lied :) also please please follow @_dazallen_ （＾ν＾） |
ba4f83f628544ea8871d638e8970d014 | ['126db51d923d4c2ea22b67963960ada4'] | Dear Uncle Arthur
Dear Uncle Arthur,
I feel a little silly writing this as I have nowhere to mail it, but I hope that you will see it, wherever you are. There are some things I feel I ought to say.
First: thank you. Thank for all you done for us, during the last days of the gang. It seems so long ago now, but I remember it clear -- and what I don't remember, I've heard Ma and Pa talk about when they think I can't hear. Ma doesn't like to look back on them days, but she still thinks kindly of you.
Pa goes quiet sometimes. He'll sit there, turning that hat around in his hands. He still has it. He don't wear it all the time, but when he does, he has this look in his eye. I don't know how to describe it, but it reminds me of you.
Charles, Uncle, and Miss Sadie all made it okay. We have a ranch now, and they stayed with us a while. Charles has headed up North to maybe settle down like we have. Sadie is a bounty hunter mostly, though she talked about looking for other kinds of work. Uncle is still here, and doesn't do much -- though from what I remember, he never did. So I think he ain't changed much from when you knew him.
Speaking of them: Charles, Sadie, and my Pa went chasing that Micah. I think he is no more. All Pa said when he got home was, "it's over," but I ain't stupid. They think they can keep me in the dark about death, long as they don't say the word, but I'm not a kid no more. Miss Sadie was pretty hurt when they came back. So I think it came down to a terrible fight, and they killed him. I ain't sorry to learn it. If anything, I think folk are a little safer with him gone. I thought you would like to know.
I got a dog now. His name is Rufus, and he's mighty fine. He does not always do as I say, but I don't mind really.
All in all, we are happy. I wasn't sure at first -- about the ranching, and the riding, and all that -- but I think I really do like it here. It's quiet, and I guess it's beautiful. That's what Pa says. He sits out with your old journal, sometimes, and draws, like you did. I don't remember him ever doing it before. But he seems to like it. And Ma smiles so much more now. She hums while she's sweeping, or making dinner. I ain't never seen her so happy.
So I think we will be all right. I know you cared a lot for us, and did a lot for us, in the end, so I wanted you to know that we came through just fine.
We made it.
Thank you, Uncle Arthur. For everything.
Jack
**[A simple, but identifiable drawing of a circlet of flowers]** | b661c62dfa5a407a8d080e97974fe1fc | ['126db51d923d4c2ea22b67963960ada4'] | The Swift, Uplifting Rush
There is a ranch now. Though _now_ is hard to define and certainly harder are _before_ and _after_. There is _only now,_ now. _Where_ is difficult as well, but it is _home;_ that he knows, easily. Not for him, but... for them.
It's not his home, but he stays for a while. Longer, perhaps, than he has stayed anywhere else. He is (is with?) something small, now. Tiny claws, tiny beak, tiny pounding heart and feathers of blue, blue, blue. He feels, and is, and is only borrowing, all at once. He has been larger, and smaller -- he has been thundering hooves and wind through fur and tender whiskers and quick, dark scales. He has been much, since that time when he was only one. _That_ was _before_, he thinks.
But in the endless _now,_ he is vast, and in the immediate now, he is here. With the feathers. The home comes together around him -- through rain and sun, cold and heat, and pain sometimes; it comes together in wood and sweat and laughter. It is almost complete, but not quite, when the final wedge of clay is shoved into place. It _is_ complete, at last, when the family is together. Home.
This feels like a wish fulfilled.
They are not always together -- not all of them. Once, he finds the house two short, then finds the two far away, and a third, and they are wind-whipped and bloody in the howling, freezing white. They are leaving. There is a shack (empty now) and a body (empty now). There is a figure, trudging down the mountain.
He knows the face, though it's changed. Knows the set of the shoulders against the cold. But the man, he doesn't know.
He does not linger there.
He sees the buck, sometimes. The great, graceful stag, bathed in golden light and treading through the soft and noiseless grass. It interests him, but so does everything else, flowing around him, surrounding him like lapping water. He follows the ripples out, and back, out, and back. He follows them to the ranch. He follows them to a butcher shop. He follows them to a quiet study, contentment, freckles, wet ink; to a baby, soft, dark skin and dark eyes, a smile; to a hill with a view of the setting sun. She is there. He brushes against her, he thinks, a quick, gentle _thereness,_ like water lapping the rocks, before the tide recedes and he recedes, back, back, softly back.
_Now_ is hard to define; _time_ is meaningless and inexhaustible but he spends all of it watching, and what he watches spends all of it changing. He sees it, in the baby, the ranch, the shifting banks of rivers and streams. He sees it in the forests -- in the soft green of new life, and the bowing, splintering, breaking of old majesty. He sees it, distinctly, in one tree. It is tall, when he finds it, though not as tall as some of its fellows. It is sturdy, but not yet wizened. That will come, he knows.
But it doesn't. Time flows and he watches and the tree softens, sags, colors and discolors and trembles in the wind, then crumbles, and joins its reddened leaves on the eternal forest floor. The others look on. This is familiar. This reminds him of a thing that does not matter -- hasn't mattered, since _now_ began.
He whistles away on the wind. Finds a different tree. A boy. A book. This, he watches, and it feels like cool, clear water under a perfect sun.
This time, when he sees the stag, he knows. (Decides?) The wash of the _everything_ is familiar now, he has lapped out and back over all of it, but there is one ripple he has never followed.
He takes to wing, maybe, or he is the wing, or he is the wind -- and he follows it
home.
**Author's Note:**
> After reading some speculation on forums about the jay that watches the ranch come together, and the eagle on Arthur's grave, I had to explore that idea a little...
>
> Title taken from 'Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep' by Mary Elizabeth Frye. |
a847e57262314b0a88769c317e0a0c50 | ['1272e27ba90f405d90fbf8a53524b0cc'] |
Call Me Calmly
**Author's Note:**
> Set immediately after 2.09, Conspiracy Theories and Interior Design, and based rather loosely on the Barenaked Ladies song of the same title. I couldn't resist it.
>
> This was slated to be porn, and it will be. Eventually.
Upon enrolling at Greendale, it hadn't taken Jeff Winger long to form certain impressions of the school. It had taken even less time for most of those impressions to be turned on their heads. In the end, Greendale turned out to be both perfectly predictable and ridiculously difficult to pin down. It was an endlessly odd place, simultaneously surprisingly demanding of its students and almost ludicrously easy on them, where the outlandish was treated as commonplace and taken as said, while the things he had always seen as normal seemed to twist, becoming more outlandish the more time he spent there. It was a school run by a man just as odd and full of contradictions as it was, often bumbling and always exceedingly strange, but clearly filled with integrity and love for his school.
Though that last, Jeff was beginning to realize, may have been a mistaken assumption.
Oh, not the love part. It was entirely obvious that the dean loved Greendale and its students with a depth of affection that sometimes bordered on creepy, and the rest of the time hopped right across that border and did a little dance. Literally.
As for integrity, though...
Jeff was still reeling from the amount of effort his fake blow-off class had ultimately required, not to mention the fact that after all of it, he hadn't even gotten the credit. He should have been furious. He surely would have been, if not for two facts.
_One_ , it had been a surprising amount of fun. And he couldn't help noticing that the dean -- or at least, messing with him, anyway -- had been a large part of that fun. Which led him to _two_ , more importantly, he couldn't help noticing that the dean was a bit of an idiot. An infinitely suggestible idiot, in particular.
And really, was there any better kind?
Jeff knew, given a proper verbal run-up, he coult talk him into handing over the credit. But the more he thought over the situation and how best to approach the dean, the more he realized that his brilliant plan had had one major drawback -- namely, the fact that a fake independent study was good for only one credit.
He could do better.
One other thing that had become abundantly clear, especially after the dean's participation in the endless web of conspiracies: while the man loved all his students, he loved some more than others. It led to an idea that a lesser man might have called slightly immoral, but Jeff merely considered practical. A highly practical exchange between two interested parties.
And the dean was clearly interested. That wasn't -- well, mostly wasn't -- even arrogance on Jeff's part. The most casual of observers could probably spot in a moment both that the dean was attracted to him, and that the man's sexuality was bound up in a web or neuroses and complications that made the conspiracy class look simple.
As for Jeff, he was extremely interested...in easy credits and getting out of Greendale as fast as possible. Still, the dean wasn't entirely repulsive, at least in his saner moments. If he could give the man his fantasy while helping himself out, well, he called that a win all around. He just needed the perfect approach...
x
"Hey, so, I wanted to say I'm really sorry about the whole conspiracy thing, and...I was thinking maybe I could make it up to you. Maybe at my place?"
The dean's icy glare alerted Jeff to the fact that the actual perfect approach might have involved giving the man more than a day to cool off.
"Jeffrey, I was willing to consider your actions merely 'playful' and 'mildly psychologically scarring,'" the dean said, inclining his head in time with the finger quotes, "but if you're going to continue to be so openly cruel..."
All right, so maybe it hadn't been the best -- "Wait, what? Who's being cruel?"
"You are!" The dean burst out. "Clearly you've noticed that I have a bit of a --" he waved a hand helplessly, apparently unable to go on.
"Massive ridiculous crush on me?" Jeff supplied helpfully.
"Thank you." The reply was terse but, Jeff suspected, genuine. He found himself oddly grateful for the return of the glare -- for a moment there, tears had seemed imminent. "You have made it perfectly clear that you're not able to reciprocate, or even acknowledge, my feelings. I can accept that, but I never would have believed that you would _mock_ \--"
"Hey, wait. Stop." Jeff held his hands up slightly, placating, as the meaning behind the dean's babbling clicked into place. "I'm not screwing with you. This is a real offer."
The dean's flickering expression solidified into what could only be described as a suspicious pout. "And what's in it for you?"
"You," Jeff lied easily, pleased to have been handed such a neat lead-in. "Look, I'm obviously not boyfriend material. I can't be that for you. But that doesn't mean I can't...reciprocate." He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't misjudging the timing here. "And...well...maybe a few free credits?"
"Jeffrey!" the dean cried, indignant but -- it had to be said -- not actually refusing. "Are you offering to sell your body for Greendale credits?"
"I know, I could do so much better. Kidding! Kidding," Jeff added quickly. "Look, I just thought we might come to a...mutually beneficial agreement," he continued with a smirk and a carefully calculated eyebrow raise.
For a moment, it seemed perhaps he really had gone too far -- but only for a moment, before the dean's expression softened considerably. "Your place?" he asked quietly. Hopefully. "Ah, when?" | af4838c52d784946ba61d452d7a76588 | ['1272e27ba90f405d90fbf8a53524b0cc'] | Jeff let the smirk drop slightly, fading into something more like genuine bedroom eyes. "Right now, if you want."
"I never imagined it happening this way," the dean breathed.
"So you have imagined this happening, then?" Jeff grinned, amused...but also oddly pleased. Why did he find that idea so appealing, exactly? He'd only meant to turn off his knee-jerk creeped-out reaction enough to see the potential here, but apparently with that done, his libido had decided to take the thing all the way.
The dean flushed, pressing his lips together, and looked up at Jeff shyly, nervous but, now that this was actually, obviously happening, not ashamed. "Well, I had pictured myself as the h-- the, ah, the one selling it."
Jeff laughed. "Yeah, except for the part where I'd nevvv--" His mouth stalled out as his brain caught up to the fact that ending that sentence with "er pay for sex with you" was a _very bad idea_.
"I'd, never take advantage of you like that, I mean, this may not be entirely aboveboard, but at least I'm willing, and, uh --" Crap. He could only hope that the dean would be touched enough by the sentiment -- or by his winning smile -- to miss the fact that he wasn't making much in the way of sense.
"Oh, I assure you, Jeffrey, I would be very willing. Uh." To Jeff's surprise, the blush deepened, the dean's momentary confidence faltering. While he could, on occasion, be coy about his crush, he had never actually seemed terribly embarrassed by it before. Even a moment earlier, he had seemed flustered speaking so openly, but not at the words themselves. "I, ah, not just with you, I mean, though of course I, well, I suppose that goes without saying at this point, but well, the idea of being a -- well, the idea itself is something of a turn-on," he finished, eyes fixed on the floor.
_Ah_. "You can call me a hooker, you know," Jeff smirked, piecing it together. "I guess technically, I am, and damn," he blinked, head canting to the side, "why _is_ that so hot?"
Apparently it was the right thing to say, as the dean managed to tentatively meet his eyes again. "So, your place?" he repeated, still sounding slightly disbelieving.
"Unless doing it in your office is another turn-on for you," Jeff grinned, mostly teasing, although...the odds were good, and so was the idea, he realized. Doing this on-campus would make it more intense, less personal -- in short, easier to fake. Easier to sidestep any sort of mistaken impressions. And the dean was clearly considering it, but --
"Maybe next time."
...what was that about mistaken impressions? And whose were they, exactly? Now it had been mentioned, Jeff realized it had been foolish to expect this to be a one-time deal. |
2616fed938954dc49e94d899bf58b938 | ['12884a2210ec4ed29416685c3c11f85e'] | The Guardian
Grillby was aware of the various methods that the king and his scientist (helped by some mages from the green and yellow tribes) used in order to quickly produce more soldiers, ranging from the uh.. more traditional methods, as far as the most powerful conjuration mages contributing a great many new creations to be used in combat. However, the method that Asgore had begun to describe was foreign to him, and I’ll do my best to relay it to you in simple terms, so as not to confuse you.
A great many of the conjuration and restoration mages that had joined the ranks of the monsters were also well versed in the various sciences. Chemical and biological, to be precise. The mages did their best to contribute to the war effort, but in the end, summoning and.. er.. hen picking weren’t exactly working out, and everyone was becoming desperate. As a result, facilities had been opened to, instead of just summoning or.. you know.
They cloned and constantly produced monster eggs, which weren’t just limited to elementals, as the other methods had been. A great many diverse tank and healer classes were being produced daily, and the war was, well, practically won. Unfortunately, by some means either by spycraft, treachery, or just plain luck, the humans had found the cloning facilities and destroyed all of the eggs and machines they could get their hands on, leaving nothing but gestation soup and crushed metal behind.
What does this have to do with guardians? Oh, yeah. We’re getting to that, don’t take leave of your patience, child. Sip your tea, we’l continue onward:
Of course, these facilities couldn’t completely be run by machines and only machines. I mean, someone had to look after the eggs that were manufactured. Did you think they’d just slap them in an incubation chamber and leave them there? No. Oh, no, heavens no, child. All monsters of all types age differently, and it’s impossible to tell when one will be ready to hatch. You see, these facilities, despite being capable of making babies, held no actual desire or capability to care for them after being created. So, naturally, a new kind of monster was manufactured, completely artificially.
The guardian.
These monsters, and their whole impressive typical stature of 5 imperial feet and the same amount of inches, would roam the rows and rows of eggs, wrapping blankets around them, taking their vitals, and administering the proper magical nourishment these children needed in order to form their first physical manifestation: a body. These guardians were especially created to have nearly the strength of boss monsters, as well as the magical storing capacity of a human mage. Monster eggs, in order to grow properly and healthily, need a constant stream of magical energy: to thrive and grow their physical form. Usually, the parent(s) of the egg fulfill the role of providing this energy, but you have to remember that the eggs in question have no sires. They’re artificially manufactured, and someone has to feed and emotionally bond with them in order for them to thrive.
So, this was the duty of the guardian, to check, feed, nurture, and viciously protect the future of monster-kind through use of brutal and unmatched force, if at all necessary. These monsters were given priority treatment (yes, even to the generals) and kept in top condition in order to do their job properly. But, unfortunately, as you know, and as I had mentioned earlier, the monsters did not win the war. They were close. So, so, desperately, awesomely close. But they did not win, because the humans had found the cloning facility and destroyed every sign of life. None remained, not even a guardian.
Except. One.
This guardian, in particular, was special. He wasn’t as strong, or particularly as smart as the others, which is why nobody found him. You see, this guardian had wandered off long before the raid even began, got lost, and had begun collecting egg-shaped rocks in the forest and keeping them warm in his pockets. The boy returned, finally, to find the facility destroyed, and all of the eggs gone. Since, as I mentioned, this one in particular wan’t very bright already, he.. wasn’t capable of coping with the mental stress of seeing your sole designed purpose being smashed and slaughtered, and became mute for a great deal of time. Eventually, he left the facility to search for the monsters, and thankfully there was a camp (relatively) nearby that recognized him, and ushered him to safety with the rest of the civilians.
The guardian continued to wander throughout the underground after the monsters were trapped, completely blocking out the memory of the broken and battered facility in order to continue what he was doing earlier: finding and protecting eggs. Which were actually stones, but the man isn’t, as I said, fully capable of being aware of that fact, given that the poor thing had seen his home, brothers, children, and friends destroyed all in one day. He did this continuously for years, filling dirt nest and holes in the ground with egg shaped rocks, and constantly carrying them on his person. He eventually ended up in the underground, but just continued doing what he was doing. Nobody bothered him.
Until one day, our friend and Admiral Grillby decides to take a stroll through the forest. | 452d3b40d03b48fba46bda22d0b3bd00 | ['12884a2210ec4ed29416685c3c11f85e'] | \- human young require constant stimulation in the form of games or information. They will constantly question things and can spend extraordinary amounts of time asking “why”, often while poking the subject in question
\- human young will try to eat anything at least once. Anything. If it will fit into their mouth they will attempt to eat it. If it will not fit into their mouth they will lick it.
-human young will voluntarily deprive themselves of oxygen to the point of unconsciousness in an attempt to trigger protective instincts in older humans so they get their way
\- human young display great interest in mimicry, often dressing up as different professions, species, and objects. They also display great skill in mimicking the calls and body language of other species.
* _Example: one human young had me quite concerned there was another Treawalbil in distress and I searched for quite some time before I discovered that the young was mimicking a Treawalbil distress trill with complete accuracy.
*Second Example: Human young have begun to wear wear “hats” with artificial crests similar to a Treawalbil and some have begun painting colorful patterns to their arms in imitation of our camouflage. _
\- human young communicate constantly and spread information quickly not only among their own social group but other social groups as well.
* _Example: The human young who mimicked a Treawalbil distress trill taught their social group and soon I was surrounded by human young calling out in distress. This caused the Treawalbil researchers much anxiety so the adult humans suggested teaching the young other calls. The human young learned enough for basic communication at an astonishing rate, but then other social groups we had not taught began using the same calls as well. Even adult humans began using the calls to communicate with us without translators._
_-_ Young humans will gift beings and creatures they believe to be in their social group with handmade objects, interesting specimens they have collected, or food. Strangely enough, a being does not have to be human in order to belong to a human’s social group.
7. a stubbed toe is worse than a broken arm
LINK
LINK
Another humans are weird/space orcs idea that came to me while trying to drink water upside down:
Humans are apex predators. We’re unbreakable and relentless and legion and lethal. Nothing gets to us- _except us._
**It’s the stupidest little things that can stop up a human.**
Many aliens have theorized about this. Perhaps with no natural enemies, the species tried to threaten them with themselves in a desperate search for some kind of challenge. Maybe it’s cosmic karma for being nigh unstoppable. Maybe they had transcended so much that the nuances of life were tiny and incomprehensible to them. Maybe it’s natural selection trying to thin the herd.
Whichever the cause, it’s a strange combination of disturbing and amusing to see a human be defeated by itself. It’s a little alarming to see the most resilient and powerful species in the universe be completely shut down with things that pale in comparison to their normal challenges.
Seeing a human function almost completely fully with several broken bones… but absolutely crippled and reduced to using one arm when faced with a large hangnail.
My dad broke his leg in a snowmobile accident in such a way that the bone was sticking out of his leg. He crawled a half mile in the snow to the nearest house to ask for help. But when he stubs his toe on the coffee table every few weeks, it’ll bring him to his knees.
I recently got a double conch piercing done- two massive needles shoved through the thickest cartilage in my ear, one right after the other. I’ve got 5 other piercings. None, not even the conch, hurt as much as getting a single hair yanked out of my head.
I see people eat some of the world’s hottest foods all laced with capsaicin which can _kill things_ , and drink alcohol that’s literally poisonous, and break pen cases with their teeth. But a too cold slush drink? Unable to talk or move, head between the knees, for about two minutes, because _brain freeze_. Or, better yet, sometimes we literally _choke on spit_. Nearly asphyxiate. Because we regularly ‘swallow down the wrong hole’.
**Alien** : Why did you say, last month, that your broken ribs and arm and massive blood loss was ‘fine’, but when you got a paper cut today, you cried for ten minutes and now still refuse to unwrap your wound? It is tiny in comparison to some things that you’ve faced without hesitation.
**Human** : Honestly it’s really stupid and I don’t really know, but I will swear up and down and until the day I die, a broken bone hurts way less than a paper cut.
**Alien** : But… no. It’s not worse. It… that doesn’t make sense.
**Human** : I know, right? But it’s true. |
7198c5ad3e6f4499a857b036813f8f3d | ['1290746f8b3048c49dfb85f93ca199a6'] | He’d always been confident of his ability as one. Keith was great with a lot of things, but he’d always had his doubts. But piloting? That hadn’t been a big problem. He knew what he was capable of, knew what Shiro had taught him would never leave. He’d been pretty good with flying by the time he met Shiro. He didn’t know why - he was just naturally talented.
But of all the things he might’ve been good at…
Keith looked over his shoulder at the Castle of Lions.
… he wasn’t really sure talking to people was his forte.
He supposed it came from his difficult past. Foster home after foster home, he’d been rejected. Shiro came along and he was the only person who never gave up on him.
Keith headed down to the bank of the river, trying to focus on his surroundings instead of his troubling thoughts. He wanted to be alone for now. He looked at the substance in the river… it looked a lot like water. Stepping closer, he looked right at it. Reasonably, it was understandable that this planet must have water. Water was life, right?
He sat down, looking out toward the large body of water. He’d never actually seen an ocean in his life and this looked a bit more like a lake, which he’d never seen up close either. He came from a desert, not the coastline.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring out to the lake and relaxing. It felt great being away from the others. Even just for a little bit. It became a habit of him to just sit quietly and get lost in his mind. Back on Earth, it had been staring at the high cliffs as the sun bathed the desert in a scorching light, or the stars on the cold nights. Sometimes when he felt completely desolate, he’d make a trip to the Garrison but he wouldn’t go in.
He wasn’t allowed back there.
“Hey. I wondered where you disappeared off to.”
Keith tensed, looking around.
“Shiro,” He sighed, “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
Shiro smiled, looking a little guilty, “Sorry. Probably should’ve warned you.”
He sat down cross legged next to Keith, but didn’t say anything. Keith turned his attention back toward the horizon, watching the water. Minutes ticked on before Shiro spoke up again.
“You should join us in the castle,” He said, “Hunk, Pidge and Lance started a game of charades and I thought I should get you as well. You weren’t anywhere in the castle so I took a walk to look for you.” His face turned a little serious, “Please warn me next time.”
“Sorry,” Keith apologized, “I just needed some time alone.”
“I understand,” Shiro said, “We’ve had a weird day so far.”
Keith huffed, “Weird is putting it a little lightly. We fly mecha lions, Shiro. It’s…” He sighed, “I cannot find the right word right now.”
“Strange? Abnormal? Uncanny?” Shiro started listing off synonyms, “Any of those words?”
Keith sighed, “Once a teacher, always a teacher.”
“Quiet, you.”
Keith’s smile grew brighter. He missed this.
“So… wanna play charades?” Shiro asked.
“Shiro, you know I suck at that game,” Keith replied, “I’ll watch. That’s it.”
Shiro got up from the bank, Keith following. The older pilot looked over at the castle, “Race you?”
Keith looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “I’m not thirteen anymore.” He started to run down the path anyway, “You know you’re gonna lose, right!?” He shouted over his shoulder.
“We’ll see about that, buddy!” Shiro shouted back, catching up with him.
They raced back to the castle. It almost felt like they were racing through the desert on hover bikes again. Only this time, they went on foot and on an alien planet, galaxies away. That didn’t matter too much, though. They were together again.
And that was probably why Keith just laughed as Shiro entered the castle first, proclaiming he was the winner.
“Quiet, old timer,” Keith muttered as he walked toward the lounge.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hope you enjoyed that! Also, you can send me prompts if you want too. It would really help. And all of it has to be platonic, please! Thanks for reading!
4. I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A short chapter about Lance being a good friend! Yay! Cheer for Lance! This is a platonic!Plance centric chapter and - yet again - very short. I thought it up way too fast.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yikes, I cannot stop naming the chapters after songs, can I? Anyway, so please send me some suggestions for more chapters! I'm hoping to update more regularly, considering NaNoWriMo is over. Also, there's male pronouns for Pidge in this chapter because she hasn't come out as a girl yet and this chapter is seen through Lance's eyes.
Considering Pidge and Hunk were still amateur pilots, it was high time they learn how to properly fly a complicated warship. Shiro, of course, volunteered first, having been a teacher back at the Galaxy Garrison. It was Hunk’s turn in a one-on-one and Lance watched as the yellow lion twisted awkwardly in the air. He could hear Shiro and Hunk's voices from the helmet that sat next to him.
“No! Close but you still need work! Let’s just get this lion steady again.”
“Sorry. I panicked.”
“It’s fine. You’re doing great.” Lance smirked at the nervous tone in Shiro’s voice.
Shiro went back to teaching, carefully explaining the basics again. He could only do so much, though, as the lions’ controls worked differently and none of the other paladins could pilot each other’s lions to test them out. He heard someone approach him and turned to see Pidge sit next to him.
“Hey Pidge,” He greeted.
Pidge grunted, “How’s Hunk doing?” | 8d51f9319f1047d1bec5307b71787bd4 | ['1290746f8b3048c49dfb85f93ca199a6'] | If he was going crazy, then this was the best sign of it. However, if there was a Quantum Abyss dog nearby, it sounded like it needed help. He couldn’t just let an animal die in the coming storm. The rainstorms were always freezing, and the wind could be horrible as well. This section of the Abyss didn’t get the worst of the storms further away, which is why Shiro chose it, but he wouldn’t call the winds here a breeze at all.
Hating himself a little for this, he decided he needed to go and look for the dog to make sure it was okay. If there wasn’t one at all, then he’ll pull a tarantula and bury himself.
He heard another whine and followed the sound. He walked forward the opening of the nearby forest where he finally saw something small, blue and fluffy. As he got closer, he recognised it. A blue wolf cub. This was a bad sign. He prepared to turn back, knowing its mother must be close before he heard a rustling of the tall grass and the wolf whined at him, giving small yips, ears pulled back.
Something was wrong.
Shiro kneeled to the cub's level, “What is it, bud?” He asked.
The wolf whined again and jumped back away from his hand, going closer to the forest.
“You want me to follow?”
It whined and gave a jerk of its head as if it was nodding. He stood up again, “Lead the way.”
The cub took that as its cue to start running. Shiro tried to keep up with it, but it clearly knew its way around the forest. A few times, he almost tripped over a tree root or hit his head against a low branch. He thanked his teenage self yet again for the survival lessons. That was an excellent idea on his part. A few times, he lost sight of the cub, only to hear it bark (was this a dog or a wolf?) and found it again.
Finally, the cub seemed to slow down as they approached the bank of a stream. The cub whined anxiously as Shiro came closer, so he hurried his pace only to stop when he caught sight of what upset the wolf.
It had to be an illusion.
It looked like a person laying on the bank of the river. They were wearing familiar armour as well, but Shiro couldn’t place it. He knew for a fact he recognised this suit. The person - or alien, whatever - lay silently on the bank, and the realisation urged Shiro to move forward. He turned them onto their back. The suit was dripping wet, and a mask concealed their face. At the sight of the mask, something in his mind clicked. He knew this suit. This was a member of the Blade of Marmora. How did they get to the Quantum Abyss? He decided the question would have to get an answer later.
He had to see what was wrong.
The wolf cub whined again. The steady blacklight effect started on the grass already, and from the clouds, Shiro could see, the green tinge had already set in. The storm was close. He needed to start going home fast.
He heard the wolf whine again.
He couldn’t leave them. He didn’t want to leave them.
He had to bring them along then. He gently picked the Blade member up, then got to his feet. The cub stared up at him with wide, yellow eyes.
“C’mon, bud, I need to get your master to my place. A storm’s on its way.” He didn’t know whether or not the wolf understood him, but it followed Shiro anyway.
Shiro tried to keep track of the light around them. The trees steadily started to glow in purple and green hues, brightening faster and faster. The cold hit them instantly, and not too long after, there was a rumble of thunder in the clouds. It became clear they weren’t going to get back to his house if they didn’t have a short cut. He had to close up the gazebo before the storm hit and check on the injured Blade to see if he needed any specific healing herbs.
He tried to remember how long he had run after the wolf. Usually, he’d count, but he must’ve forgotten this time. He almost stopped walking when the weight shifted in his arms, and a groan came from the Blade, but they fell silent soon after and became still again. Shiro wondered if it would be much easier to wake them. They were pretty light but heavy enough to make his arms tired. If the Blade could walk, he could take them to his place a little faster.
Another rumble of thunder sounded, and the blacklight increased. There was no way to make it. He looked at the wolf cub who had its ears pulled back. Another rumble of thunder. That was usually the cue. The rain was going to start any minute now. The cold would increase; the rain would come down hard and soak them in seconds. Then their vision would be obscured, and they would slowly freeze. After all, that’s what almost happened to Shiro on Quantum Abyss Day Two.
Then he felt the wolf brush against his leg.
He wasn’t sure what happened next.
One moment he was standing in the forest, inches from their doom. And then the world became blinding white for a second before they appeared in a grassy meadow. In the distance, Shiro recognised his cabin. He heard the wolf whine and saw it stumble, but it caught its footing fast.
“You just… teleported us?”
The wolf gave a low growl and then sprinted for the cabin. Shiro snapped out of his stupor to follow it up the hill, shifting the Blade more comfortably in his arms. He hurried over to the cabin and opened the door. The wolf ran into the cabin first. Shiro closed the door behind him then walked over to the large bed on the other side of the room, gently placing the Blade member on the covers before he headed back to the door.
The gazebo had to come up before the storm. If the Blade ended up needing medicine, Shiro might have to cook something up, depending on what was wrong. He sucked badly as a cook, and apparently his time alone hadn’t taught him much, but he managed to find simple remedies and cures for several bites from animals and even for concussions. The wolf barked at him, jerking its head toward the Blade.
“I know, I know,” He reassured the animal, “I’ll be right back.”
He headed toward the door and closed up the gazebo right before the storm hit.
**Author's Note:**
> Hope you enjoyed that! Chapter Two will be up soon. I wrote this finished this while sick, so I don't know how good this actually is. Reviews are encouraged, critique is accepted. |
17dcced2da01446c9601a7b6eeb04f01 | ['1290f08582c446089df81e6d1c552c4f'] | “It’s a feast day for Dibella, though I tend to just burn a candle and leave a fresh pitcher of water at a shrine. I like to keep it simple.”
“I didn’t think you’d be too interested in the whole religion, chapel thing considering what you told me last night.”
Valleri sighed, biting the inside of her lip, “You’d think so, huh?” she paused, “There was a priestess who started at the chapel a year or two before left. She told me about a more obscure sect of Dibella worshippers that wasn’t exactly affiliated with the Temple of the Divines.”
“So, it’s like Nords who worship Kyne instead of Kynareth when they’re actually the same thing?”
“Sort of,” Valleri grimaced. She felt as if the comparison didn’t quite fit, but at least Vilkas understood what she meant.
“What’s the sect devoted to exactly?” Vilkas muttered while he started to look over another vendor.
“What?”
“Different sects typically venerate certain aspects of their chosen divine. Dibella encompasses a lot, right?” He glanced over to her. She could see the boredom on his expression plainly; he didn’t bother hiding it.
“Primarily the feminine aspect, though I do remember learning some Dibellan mysteries when I was a bit older,” Valleri stifled a chuckle as she looked towards the ground, “Those were some crazy days.”
This time, Vilkas’ expression lit up, eyebrows jumping almost to his scalp. Valleri could barely look at him, grin plastered to her face. Vilkas coughed, eyeing her conspicuously, “What the fuck were they having you do?”
“There’s nothing to worry about; it was all consensual.”
“By the eight, woman,” Vilkas could see the vendor eavesdropping from across the both; the poor elf’s face was beet red. Vilkas could at least hurry up and complete the transaction. Valleri, for her part, was perfectly composed; he asked and she answered. Vilkas looked back down to Valleri as they started to walk back to Jorrvaskr. He could barely contain his nervous laughter, “You probably shouldn’t let that particular piece of information out. People tend to get skittish about religion these days and might get…”
“The wrong idea?” Valleri cut him off, all evidence of her grin completely wiped away. “Don’t worry, I’m used to that. Alastaros; nope, many people in the chapel weren’t especially fond of my spiritual choices either.”
They were silent for a long while before Valleri stopped behind Vilkas, looking down with a worried look. Something new was on her mind; Valleri didn’t bother to hide it as she stood underneath the Gildegreen. Vilkas turned to face her, “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong per se. It’s just that…” Valleri paused, her eyebrows furrowing even more. “What you said in the market, and last night especially; it was kind.”
The Imperial’s eyes finally met Vilkas but he didn’t move. Instead he frowned, “It’s nothing to thank me for, people shouldn’t…”
“Shut up for a second,” Valleri snapped, bridging the gap between the two off them while she still held his gaze. “You’re not required to be nice, nobody is. Last night is a perfect example. Vilkas, you made an effort to be a decent human being whether you aware of it or not.”
The Nord felt goosebumps rise on his skin as Valleri continued to glare him. Vilkas wanted to say something badly, but couldn’t bring himself too. The Imperial’s green eyes were so… genuine. Vilkas wouldn’t even think of admitting that they made him feel even a tab bit guilty, never.
“Just accept the fucking thanks and let it be. I need some one to call a friend in this thrice damned province and you’re proving to be the only one I can actually trust.”
The words that just spilled out of Valleri’s mouth felt heavy in the air. Vilkas looked downwards, finding any excuse to get those eyes off of him. “Fine; I’ll accept. But I’m not expecting to completely do everything you ask.” Vilkas muttered, he looked back at her, back straightened and a corner of his lips was curling upwards. “You’re a pain Valleri, but a good pain.”
Valleri beamed brightly as she mumbled something Vilkas couldn’t pick up and rushed up the stone steps leading up to Jorrvaskr. What did he just agree to?
…
Valleri saw Kodlak first when she went to drop of the vegetables with Tilma. She hid her own package outside in an empty barrel to avoid any mishaps with the resident werewolves. If Valleri was going to be privy to the secret, she may as well respect it. Unfortunately, the silver she needed for the ceremony wouldn’t sit well with those in the Circle.
The old man called her over with a hand gesture and a smile. Valleri didn’t feel the pit in her stomach she typically noticed when she talked to the man. Kodlak wasn’t mean or horrible, but he was intimidating. Something about authority never quite sat well with her.
“Did you need something?’ Valleri laughed nervously. The woman chider herself internally.
“Yes, I did,” Kodlak replied, catching onto Valleri’s micro expression. The old man smiled a bit in return, but Valleri could only see it as a grimace through his thick, white beard. “Let’s go downstairs, there’s more privacy there.”
Valleri nodded and followed the Harbinger to the back room, the room she had first seen him and Vilkas speaking in the day she joined. It was still opulently decorated compared to the rest of the mead hall; books littered the table and shelves around her. She could recognize old journals and diaries from around the leaf litter. Valleri sighed, reminded of Alastaros; the elf’s office was very much the same way. | 06434ce78e454ba5a786add39f435d83 | ['1290f08582c446089df81e6d1c552c4f'] | Ysolda wrapped her arms around Farkas’ neck and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Did something happen, love?”
“Not really, but I did need something.”
The red headed woman grimaced in concern as she pulled away from Farkas, “Is it a dance?”
“Yeah,” the Nord admitted sheepishly, “It was.”
Ysolda chuckled to herself as she grabbed onto Farkas’ hands, “I was honestly wondering what was taking you so long!” The Nord woman began to lead Farkas to the dance floor. Vilkas watched her give Valleri a wink as she left.
Vilkas didn’t say anything as Valleri sunk into a seat next to him. He glanced only scowled as Valleri grabbed the half empty bottle Vilkas had poured his drink from and take a chug from it. She laughed as she set the bottle down, “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure, is there?” Vilkas retorted.
Valleri shook her head with a lopsided grin, “Nothing is wrong then! Of course, I’m probably a little bit tipsy at this point.
Vilkas shook his head and reached over to ruffle Valleri’s hair. “I’m not surprised.”
“Yeah,” Valleri mumbled. The Imperial looked over to the dance floor, eyes scanning the couples. Her grin turned soft and genuine when she found Farkas and Ysolda. “They look happy enough.”
“Aye, they do.” Vilkas added. His head began to feel a bit fuzzy and Vilkas figured he should stop drinking for the time being. He pushed the mug away from him. “Has Kodlak already made his toast?”
Valleri nodded, “Not yet. Hopefully it will be nothing like Balgruuf’s though.” She reached for the mug and finished off Vilkas’ drink.
Vilkas laughed to himself as he recalled the Saturnalia feast some months before. He shook his head as he tried to recompose himself. He took another look at his brother only to lose him in the crowd. The song ended abruptly as the two of them watched Kodlak climb up on the table at the head of the room and clear his throat with a cough. The room went eerily silent as everyone looked in his general direction
“I can see many of you with us tonight are already deep in your cups, so I’ll keep this short.” The old warrior looked around the room with a smirk, brandishing his own goblet in the air with a flourish. “I would like announce that all of the fragments of our ancestral symbol, wielded by great Ysgramor, have been collected and returned to the mead hall. I say we drink to the prosperous future of those friends of the Companions!” Kodlak yelled something incomprehensible and leapt off the table. There was a deafening roar as the crowd went back to the feast.
Vilkas took a piece of the grilled meat as Farkas and Ysolda appeared from the crowd. Ysolda grimaced as she looked over towards Valleri, “I thought he was going to mention you in his toast.”
“Why though? It was a good toast, short and to the point.” Valleri said.
Ysolda crossed her arms, “I thought you found the last fragment. That deserves credit, right?”
“I happen to agree with Valleri on this,” Vilkas mumbled to himself. The Imperial woman nodded her head in acknowledgment.
The red headed Nord rolled her eyes and waved Vilkas away with a free hand, “But still, you deserve some sort of credit. It’s only fair.”
Valleri tilted her head with lazy glance, “It’s not the credit I want. However, I do appreciate the thought.” Valleri grabbed ahold of the now almost empty bottle and took another swig of the alcohol. Vilkas grimaced as he watched Valleri finish off the bottle.
“Are you just going to drink, Valleri?” Ysolda asked. The Imperial woman shrugged but didn’t say anything further. Exasperated, Ysolda gestured towards the dance floor, “Are you going to go out there tonight?”
“Probably not tonight,” Valleri paused when Ysolda gave her a pleading look. Valleri threw up her hands with a laugh, “I certainly can’t dance by myself, now can I? Will you dance with me, red?”
Valleri laughed as Farkas came up behind Ysolda and slid his arms around her waist. He gave Valleri a betrayed look. Ysolda laughed before giving him another kiss on the forehead, “Looks like I’m already taken. But, uh,” Ysolda fumbled before slapping Vilkas on the back, “What about this guy? He’s free right?”
Vilkas stared up at Ysolda with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, I don’t dance.” He looked over to Valleri nervously, who only shrugged dismissively.
“Not even just one time? Look at Valleri, she’s desperate to get out there!” Ysolda protested. Vilkas sighed in annoyance when Valleri mouthed a quiet apology. He stopped paying attention when Ysolda continued to pester him.
Valleri stood up from her chair and grabbed a hold of Ysolda’s hand with a chuckle, “Look, Vil’s not having any of it. I’m dragging you down with me.” The two men watched as Valleri drug Ysolda away.
Vilkas leaned his arm on Farkas as he sat in Valleri’s seat. With a blank expression, Vilkas looked over to his brother, “Looks like your dance partner was stolen.”
…
Valleri didn’t think that the music could get any louder, but like as many things in Skyrim, the volume was pushed to an extreme the Imperial wasn’t used to. The Imperial attempted to lead her taller friend away from the group of bards at the end of room. Anything to be able to hear herself through the din of music.
Ysolda couldn’t help but laugh as the Imperial twirled her around the dance floor. She glanced over to the twins at the table for a moment before almost crushing Valleri’s foot. “I am so sorry about that.”
“About what?” Valleri asked, genuinely confused. |
b5dbbf5ef09f4794942f3540bd359c96 | ['129b76ffabde4fc59260d623347aa28d'] | Milly grabbed his arm then and gave it a sharp tug as she began to head back towards the school's main building. Suzaku stumbled as he was practically dragged across the grass and turned his head back to Gino with a pleading look in his eyes, but the other boy simply shrugged and shook his head with the same silly grin plastered to his face.
Of course, that sealed the deal; Suzaku was now 100% certain that whatever was about to happen to him was going to set the tone for the duration of his stay at Ashford. And, from the looks of it, he had stumbled directly into a trap. These people were just itching for someone to pick apart and apparently the new kid was the perfect prey.
"Good luck buddy!" Gino called out with a wave just as the door closed in his face.
* * *
As cantankerous and distant as Lelouch had been feeling earlier that morning, by the end of the day things had only gotten worse and worse it seemed.
It was hard to say if Lelouch was ever in a particularly easy-going frame of mind of course, especially when you weren't someone he was especially comfortable around, but at the same time he was skilled at fending off his frustrations for the most part. Truthfully (and this may come as a shock), he didn't hate everyone who wasn't his little sister and he wasn't really the sort to generalize people based solely off of first impressions. However, that also didn't mean that it wasn't remarkably easy to piss him off.
Maybe he had high expectations of others, but it didn't really matter.
He knew that Nunnally was the only one truly deserving of his smiling face.
As it would happen, Lelouch had been mentally berating his dorm supervisor all day after he realized how truly hazardous it was to be seen walking with Suzaku. He had already been harassed numerous times by his classmates, all of whom sought to question him about this most recent scandal. Of course, Lelouch didn't give a damn about the rumors. It was best to let people believe whatever they wanted after all, or at least that was what he thought. Sooner or later they would come to realize that nothing was going on between the two of them and that they didn't have anything to do with each other. After that the problem would just slowly fade away.
In the end it was exactly the same as any other troublesome occurrence in his life.
People would always follow him, watch him, swarm around him; it wasn't anything new, was it?
Yes, that's it, Lelouch thought to himself as he sat in the student council room, reviewing the budgets for each of the school's different clubs and events. Everything will work itself out if I leave it alone, so I shouldn't agonize this much over something so trivial. It’s not as if the situation will repeat itself; I’ll probably never even talk to him again.
Suddenly, the door, which consequently was placed directly behind him, burst open and Lelouch remembered that irony had a sick sense of humor.
"Prez!" Rivalz, who had been seated to his immediate left, exclaimed as he popped up and out of his chair. "Where did you..."
He trailed off and Lelouch refused to turn to see why.
"Madam President, welcome back!" Shirley said as she entered from a second door on the far side of the room. "Oh, you brought someone along?"
Lelouch's shoulders stiffened.
He glanced around the table to see the entirety of the student council eying whoever it was standing behind him. Rivalz, Shirley, Kallen, Nina; they had curiosity written all over their faces. And as for C.C.? Well, the smile that played at her lips was downright malicious.
Lelouch could already feel the headache setting in.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet the newest member of the Ashford Academy Student Council; Suzaku Kururugi!" Milly cheered loudly.
There it is.
Lelouch stood up and turned around in one exaggerated movement.
Honestly, Suzaku looked just about as surprised as Lelouch felt, but that didn't really make the situation any less alarming. He was royally (pardon the pun) screwed now. There was no doubt about it. Things would no longer just blow over with time, it was far too late for that, and all because Milly had to go and stick her bloodthirsty nose where it didn't belong.
Though, Lelouch was beginning to wonder how he hadn't seen this coming in the first place.
Regardless, this was undeniably an intentional setup on her part.
Suzaku blinked and opened his mouth as if to speak, but he said nothing.
Lelouch wanted to say something as well of course, but he didn’t even have a chance to find his words.
Before he knew it, Shirley practically flew across the room and took hold of Suzaku's hand. Her smile was large and welcoming and it reflected just how kind-hearted she truly was.
One of the few, Lelouch thought bitterly.
"Hi there," she greeted enthusiastically. "My name's Shirley and it's really great to meet you!"
"Ah... yes, it's nice to meet you too," Suzaku said and it almost sounded a bit shy.
Lelouch and Nina were the only two who stayed back as the other's attacked the new comer with questions and conversation starters.
"My name’s Kallen," the redhead introduced herself as the two shook hands. "You're the Japanese Prime Minister's son, right? I'm half Japanese myself and my mother moved back there a few years ago. She says your father is known for being kind of stiff and traditional."
"Is that so?" Suzaku answered with an amused smile. "She's right about that; back home he's always yelling at me for being such a push-over."
“Well, I can’t exactly say you’re what I was expecting,” Kallen chuckled. | 5be641e15d784167a615197071d3e64b | ['129b76ffabde4fc59260d623347aa28d'] | It was too late then of course; he couldn't stop now. Even if Lelouch himself had thought that he didn't deserve to be mourned, Suzaku at least had to cry for him. In the long run it was really more for his own sake anyway, as selfish as that may have been.
But he had lost something valuable and irreplaceable on that day too, and ultimately Suzaku would've much rather he'd lost his life instead.
"Sorry Lulu, even though I promised not to… I'm such an idiot."
2. Scene I: Meeting Qualifications
Waking up every morning, something that had already previously begun to resemble a chore, was slowly proving to be more and more of a hassle for Suzaku recently than ever before it seemed. And yet, as he cracked his green eyes open to the world on that one specific day, he realized that something was noticeably different about the normal tension he could feel building in his stomach, or at least that was what he thought. The boy could not put his finger on what exactly was amiss in truth, but for whatever reason he actually found himself unwilling to sleep in like usual. So, of course this was something hard to comprehend for Suzaku, even as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed to touch the cold floor with his feet, it was as if his stomach was twisting right instead of left on that day.
In truth he didn't really have the words to describe the sensation, but once again Suzaku realized he felt like running someplace far away.
It was an invigorating and yet slightly terrifying feeling.
Yet, the boy knew somehow that throughout his entire life he had always felt this way to an extent. Still he was unsure what to call it, but the lurching in his stomach had a familiar pull to it.
For a moment the tension was think in the air, but suddenly Suzaku realized when he had felt this sensation before and visibly cringed.
After all, how could he ever forget the hours he'd spent lying awake in bed as a child? He had spent so many evenings afraid to even close his eyes. There were these horrendous nightmares he remembered, all the same in theme, and they had kept him awake for days on end at times. And of course the boy had known the reason for this all to well even in those days, with the red of his father's faded life still freshly staining his hands.
Sometimes he could still see it in the pitch dark of his room.
Suzaku was even more disgusted with himself for a second then of course, but after a pause he recalled just whose blood was on his hands this time and forced himself to hold back a scream of agony instead of dread. He hadn't had a choice this time after all, had he? Despite how he felt as though he'd rip at the seams any second he knew that now his punishment was simply to bear it.
Suzaku wondered how long it would be until he crumbled to pieces.
He hunched over then, still seated upon the bed, and swept a hand through his brunette head of hair while heaving a hard sigh.
"There isn't a point to this," Suzaku muttered to himself, as if trying to reason the feeling away.
"There's a point to everything, Kururugi."
The second voice was unexpected of course, so harsh in tone the boy knew at once that, despite being a girl, this was not Nunnally. Besides, no one, not even the young Empress, would ever dare to enter his room without at least knocking beforehand.
Suzaku stood quickly, taking a defensive pose. However, he was greeted with a shockingly familiar sight which caused him to recoil a mere second later. After all, the person who stood before him was someone he had never expected to see again, let alone in his private chamber at such an intimate moment.
"C.C.," he said in half a whisper. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The so-called witch gave him a sly smile before responding, making the brunette mildly uncomfortable under her gaze. "You look rather unwell Kururugi, have you not been taking care of your health either these days?" C.C. drawled out mockingly, clearly evading his question. "Well, I guess that's to be expected."
She walked around to the other side of his bed then, leaning against the canopy's wooden support beam with an unamused huff.
Suzaku was rather irritated by this point, in no way being in the right mood to deal with this witch's sort of game. He glared at her, trying to convey with his eyes that he wasn't about to play around with her any longer, but she made no signs of backing down.
"You disappeared," he stated firmly. "If you've come back now after more than two and a half years there must be a reason."
C.C. sighed again and rolled her eyes. "Straight to the point I see," she said. "You're as boring as ever… but also right; the truth is I've come back to help you."
"Help me?" Suzaku asked, sounding rather disbelieving.
"It's written all over your face really," the girl stated matter-of-factly. "Don't you think after all these years I have learned the expression of a broken man? I said it before, didn't I? I'm not surprised by your current state in the slightest. I guess you could say that's the reason I came back in the first place." |
14778c692f994378935167d1187643fe | ['129f678ec244433eabf946e4c96b49ad'] |
hanging tree.
**Author's Note:**
> yoongi is 17 here and jungkook is 15
>
> yoongi is from district 12- mining district- and jungkook is from district 11- agriculture.
>
> i won't be doing the interview parts. it'll just be the reaping training centre then the games.
>
>
>
> jungkook is gonna be smaller than irl, shorter than yoongi because why not-- i did this so he can climb trees easier--coughruecougH- juNGKOOK IS JUST A SOFT AWKWARD SHY BABY
>
> i'll spell jungkook 's name as jeongguk- C: okaky enjoy
min yoongi slipped past the peacekeepers lurking around, he saw the fence and snuck to it. sighing in relief as there was no one guarding it. he ducked down and crawled under the small broken piece of the fence, running out to the forest.
yoongi went towards the log that kept his bow in place until he heard a twig snap, his nose scrunched and he looked around. taehyung. it was just yoongi's best friend. yoongi scowled and looked away from the boxy smiling boy.
“don’t scare me like that.” yoongi harshly said, having the younger pout and cross his arms. “hyung you love me, don’t be harsh like that” taehyung giggled, yoongi’s lips cracked into a small smile. “whatever” yoongi grabbed his bow and went to the tree that held his arrows in.
taehyung grabbed his own bow and arrow, given to him by yoongi. it was made by yoongi’s father, it was one of the best ones taehyung has ever seen. taehyung climbed up a tree, adjusting his body on the thick branch he was sitting on.
“so the reaping is in a couple of hours” taehyung nervously muttered, yoongi looked up at his best friend, a small grin on his face. “you scared?” he asked, taehyung huffed. “well obviously i fucking am scared. what if you get picked?? or i do?? how many times did you put your name in.” taehyung asked. yoongi’s grin immediately dropped, “well- there is about fifty or something slips of paper with my name on it. i’m only doing it for my family.” each tessera had a year supply of grains and oil for one person, so yoongi put his name in for the grain and oil for his family. they were poor already. but they were usually starving around this time, more than usual.
taehyung shook his head, “if you get picked i’m volunteering for you.” taehyung said making yoongi look up at the older. his stern expression said it all. “no you fucking aren’t.” yoongi replied as he angrily shot a squirrel, missing its eye. the arrow landing on its neck. “fuck.” yoongi muttered under his breath. “i’m sorry hyung." taehyung apologized. yoongi grabbed the squirrel, "whatever." yoongi seemed to always use that word. "let's just go to the hob. the squirrel will get us two loafs of bread." yoongi said, putting his arrows and the bow away. "alright." they walked back to the small district. the electric fence still turned off, they ducked under the hole and continued on their path to the hob. they entered and went directly to greasy sae,, deciding to just get her soup instead. they traded in the squirrel for two bowls of her soup. yoongi's cat like eyes glanced at a mocking jay pin. sae smiled and told him to take it, and yoongi gladly did. "i gotta go now. i'll see you soon okay?" taehyung cut off the awkward silence with his deep voice. "okay." yoongi walked back to his small home, opening the door to see his brother and mother. "i brought soup." yoongi smiled softly at his brother, who was wearing a white shirt and black pants, the sleeves of the white shirt were too big for his small build. "yah, look at this, your sleeves are too big. you little cat." yoongi laughed, fixing his younger brother's sweater paws. "hyunnnggg, don't call me that!" his brother poked yoongi's cheek. "yoongi, your clothes are in the bedroom. thank you for the soup." his mother smiles at him. yoongi sighs and pats his younger brother's head. placing the soup on the table and going in the bedroom. it was a simple white shirt with black pants, like his brother wore.
he quickly changed and they started walking to the square. where men women and children all were gathering around. yoongi got in the line, as he kept looking back at his brother. his brother frowned knowing they'd need to prick his finger. yoongi went up to the peacekeeper who pricked his pointer finger, making his nose scrunch. he walked with the people who are waiting for the reaping. he waited patiently for his younger brother to come.
his younger brother cried out when they pricked his finger. pouting as he walked back to min yoongi, hugging the older's waist.
kim seokjin cleared his throat into the mic, his blue and black dyed hair was standing out, he had plastic butterflies in his hair. the contact lenses that made his pupils look like butterflies. "now it is time to selection one courageous man and woman. an honour to choose the district twelve representative for the annual seventy-fourth hunger games." seokjin announced. "as usual. ladies first." seokjin walked away from the microphone heading to the glass bowl with names inside. seokjin dove his hand in and picked a name. "kim nahee!" seokjin announced in the mic. yoongi spaced out, really not caring and was only waiting for the men's selection. the girl with black hair and blue eyes walked up on stage, her eyes filled with fear. "now for the men" seokjin walked to the other glass bowl, diving his hand in again and grabbing a slip of paper, he walked back to the mic. "kim taehyung!" he said to the mic. | 1b063887ac424ea396c9454f80133463 | ['129f678ec244433eabf946e4c96b49ad'] | taehyung's eyes widened and bit his lower lip, he had to accept this. he slowly started to walk up to the stage. yoongi shook his head and yelled out taehyung's name. yoongi tried to go up to taehyung but the peacekeepers blocked him from doing so. "I VOLUNTEER!" yoongi yelled as loud as he could. seokjin looked at the boy and smiled. "my my! we have a volunteer. please come up to the stage." yoongi avoided all the staring, and the worrying look his mother and brother gave.
"hyung... what are you doing." taehyung muttered. yoongi sighed and bit his lower lip. "you'd do it for me." yoongi smiled at the younger, the smile was forced. taehyung couldn't help but breaking down into tears. he thought that yoongi was an older brother to him. someone always there.
"what is your name?" kim seokjin asked when yoongi got up on stage. "..min.. min yoongi." yoongi replied. it didn't even sound human the way he talked. he felt so lost. "why did you volunteer?" seokjin asked once again. "he's my best friend. like a brother to me." yoongi answered truthfully. staring at his family and taehyung. "well give min yoongi a round of applause!" seokjin cheerfully said.
there was no cheers. no claps. not even the sound of a bird chirping. one man put three fingers on his lips then put them in the air. everyone followed. a sign of gratitude. love. appreciation. and farewell. a tear rolled down yoongi's cheeks. "shake hands you two." seokjin basically ordered. yoongi looked at nahee shaking her hand. she looked so terrified.
they went to the justice building. it's where you'd go after the reaping, or to get married. those kinds of things. it's usually filled with sadness.
"you got three minutes." a peacekeeper said. first his family came in, his mother yelling at him and his brother crying. "i'll be okay." yoongi tried to reassure them but to no avail. "hyung.. why..?" his brother muttered. yoongi sighed and got out his pin. the mocking jay, and gave it to his younger brother. "here. this will protect you." yoongi smiled. behind his smile was him and his anxiety. "hyung you need it more than me." his brother said, putting the pin on yoongi's white shirt. yoongi chuckled before the peacekeepers came in to take his mother and brother away. "TAEHYUNG WILL GET YOU FOOD SO YOU WONT STARVE, MOM TAKE CARE OF HIM." yoongi yelled as they were being taken away already. taehyung walked in, his guilty expression and his red eyes from crying was all yoongi could see. "hyung you shouldn't have."
yoongi scoffed, "you'd do it for me. i already told you this." taehyung pouted. "you need to win for us." yoongi shook his head. feeling unconfident. "i can't. careers will take me out instantly"
"hyung please try. i'll take care of your family. i prom-" taehyung was cut off by the peacekeepers coming to take taehyung away. "stay safe please."
yoongi stared down at his lap, he cracked. choked sobs escaping from his throat. he was a strong young man, indeed. but sometimes he needed to break down like this. he wiped his tears away with the white sleeve, getting up. he knew this was no way to act, the other tributes would just see him as weak. yet he was not weak.
he went to go meet with his mentor, kim namjoon, his escort kim, seokjin, and the female tribute.
he sighed as they went inside the train that would take them to the capitol.
((timeskip to the training centre.
all tributes entered the training centre.
yoongi's mentor, namjoon, had told him and nahee to not show any of their skills. yet yoongi still felt drawn to the bow and arrows, he walked towards them, picking it up in his hands. they felt different from the ones he always used at home. he huffed as he heard nahee's voice telling him to stop. yoongi left that station and went over to the fire starting station. of course he already knew how to start a fire, but he still needed to do it.
yoongi had finished making the fire until he looked up, a small boy looking at the throwing knives, spears, just knives in general.
"you gonna use that?" yoongi heard a sassy voice approaching the boy. 'i think they're from the same districts.' yoongi thought, before he saw the girl pull the boy's shoulder. she made it look gentle. like a friendly pat. but the boy's expression said it all.
yoongi kept looking at them, yet tried to mind his own business. "give me the throwing knives." he heard the same girls voice, yoongi sighed and shook his head.
yoongi kept watching the boy closely, he didn't appear strong. yet he threw the spear so far. chuckling to himself he walked to the boy, until he heard the careers talking and laughing at the small boy. yoongi grabbed the throwing knives and walked closer to the boy, he was younger than yoongi. he handed the knives to him. "show them." yoongi knew that the boy probably was good with them. "bu-" the boy's voice was squeaky and adorable, yoongi knew he couldn't get attached though. "do it." yoongi gave a reassuring pat on the back.
"im min yoongi by the way." yoongi said, "jeongguk. jeon jeongguk." jeongguk smiled as he started the simulation, having fake models run around as he threw the knives, hitting them all. the careers scoffed and looked away. seemingly jealous.
yoongi smiled as he turned his back to jeongguk, having the younger grab his arm. "uh.. thanks.." jeongguk awkwardly said, smiling softly. yoongi turned back and ruffled the boy's hair. "anytime." jeongguk bit his lower lip and scratched his arm, "say.. uh do you want to be allies..? we don't have to! i'm just ask-" yoongi cut him off by grabbing his arm and taking him to the eatible berries test.
"you're good with the throwing knives and spears, correct?" yoongi whispered, making sure no one could hear. jeongguk gave a slight nod. "i'm good with the bow and arrows. we should start making a plan of what we're gonna do." yoongi huffed, they both got through the berries without blinking an eye. "run away from the cornucopia. i can get us both backpacks." jeongguk said, he was small yet quick on his feet. "no. i will get us the packs. you need to run, i can't risk losing you on the first day." yoongi pouted, he didn't wanna lose his ally right away.
"i'm quick hyung. don't worry." jeongguk grinned, but yoongi just sighed. "don't die." was what could be heard under his breath.
((skip to the part where they show the game makers their abilities
jeongguk walked inside the room where the game makers would be watching him. he sighed as he walked to the throwing knives, he threw one skillfully. it landed straight on the cardboard person's heart. he did a front flip and threw another knife, getting a headshot. he grinned and threw the last one at the neck. the game makers looked impressed, writing down notes. jeongguk then grabbed a spear and threw it the longest distance he could, it getting right onto the targets heart.
"you're dismissed." and with that jeongguk left. |
395f5ed732ad48f4a83fb9de205d22fd | ['12a9cb463ad540cf83529eb5224a6870'] | They have never been that close, the two of them. There was that air of unease between them, usually because of Taeyong’s own shyness. But Taeyong was starting to open up more, trying to connect and bond with his members more now.
But still, on their way back to the dorms Taeyong asked Winwin to switch cars with him so he would not end up in the same one as Ten. There was no real reason why, really.
2. Like Magic
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hi hi hello
>
> reading this again to edit was..sfgfd like i didnt have to go in that hard but i hope y'all like it!!!
>
> And i want to say THANK YOU to everyone who left comments or kudos on the previous chapter honestly reading your comments makes my day :( <3
>
> reference for the airport BEST FRIENDS !! moment lol: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHatKaE0-ZQ
>
> and the title is from BDS obviously (Like magic, I felt each hundredth of a second)
When they got the news about the comeback Taeyong was confused.
He has been working on some songs and writing his rap parts, but he honestly had no idea which members would end up in which songs.
But when he saw the sheet for the first comeback song, Boss, without Ten’s name in it, he was lost. It was NCT U, and Ten was now back. Why wasn’t he in the song? There were new members and new distributions, sure, but NCT U was Ten, it would not feel right without him.
Just thinking about the 7th sense era, the excitement of finally debuting, and everything it meant to him. NCT U was Ten. Those days of being near Ten all the time, which was the only member who truly made him nervous, watching him dance like he did, looking up to him and trying so hard to meet his standards…Those days were really special. And NCT U was special in his heart too. How could they take that away from him?
But Taeyong knew better than to make a fuss and step out of line so he did not say anything. They were all so busy with recording Boss and Yestoday that he did not even get to see Ten that much.
Sometimes at night he would come back late from the studio, just trying to sound out the rap right, working past 2 am. And some nights if he dragged along the other members to practice with him, he would bump into Ten leaving Jaehyun and Johhny’s room.
Like tonight.
“Oh, you guys are back,” Ten said, closing the door quietly. Taeyong just nodded, distracted by Ten. In front of him. He was wearing a black tank top and sweats. His hair was disheveled. He was soft. So soft.
Ten must have noticed his eyes measuring him up as he said “What is it?” laughing.
Taeyong just shook his head, looking down. He was unable to form actual words tonight for some reason.
“Well good night then, I’m going back to my dorm,” Ten said and gave Taeyong’s arm a little squeeze as he walked by. Taeyong’s hand flew up to the spot as soon as Ten’s hand left his skin.
And asking him about the comeback was forgotten. Until a couple of weeks later, after he was practicing the Boss choreography, the manager walked into his room.
“Taeyong, come to the meeting room in 5”
“Ok hyung,” Taeyong said and quickly changed out of his sweaty tshirt.
When he was going down the stairs to the meeting room, he noticed someone else a flight down. It was Ten.
“Ten!”
“Oh! Hyung,” he stopped and Taeyong caught up quickly.
“Are you going to the meeting room as well?” Taeyong asked, out of breath.
Ten gave him one his blinding smiles again “You really wanna know?”
Taeyong averted his eyes, “Oh, come on.”
“Ok ok, yes I am. Aren’t all the members going?”
“No…Taeil hyung was also in the room when the manager came, and Mark is practising with Dream right now.”
Ten just shrugged and started running down the stairs, “Catch me if you can!!!”
“Ten! Wait” But he just kept skipping down the stairs, laughing like a kid and yelling that Taeyong was getting old.
When Taeyong finally caught up, again, they were in front of the meeting room. Both breathing heavily, and Ten still all giggles and laughs. Taeyong lightly pushed his shoulder to stop him, but he was smiling despite himself.
“Great you are both here, come in,” the manager said and let them in.
Before anyone said anything, or asked questions, they played the demo. It was Haechan’s voice, and god knows when it was recorded.
One part of it was just whisper singing, and the actual chorus was a stronger voice. The beat was lazy and got progressively faster, it was mysterious, addicting. The whispering was what really set the song apart. They had layered Haechan’s voice with adlibs and it all sounded way too good.
“We want you two in this song.The whole concept is planned out. Taeyong you can write your rap parts, but it needs to be fast.”
Taeyong slightly looked to his left, and saw Ten smiling really big across the table.
Taeyong could not catch up himself, he was too excited about the song, was already planning the lyrics. But Ten. Just the two of them?
“We need to start recording in two days so that we can start the dance practice and then leave in time for Ukraine for the music video,”
“Sounds amazing, let’s do it,” Ten said.
“Yes, I love the song,” Taeyong added. He was still unsure how all of this would go, but he would work hard and not try to disappoint anyone. | 0ef9193c8db940159e92e67c618f9e42 | ['12a9cb463ad540cf83529eb5224a6870'] | Later that night Taeyong went to the practice room again to practice Boss, to clear his head mostly. He found that whenever he was nervous keeping busy helped. Dancing was great for that as it kept both his mind and body busy.
But the heavy beat of Boss was still not enough to make his thoughts go away. There were too many variables he could not predict and control. He has never done anything with only a member. Sure, he was the center, but he could still feel at ease when he knew his members were right beside him. Now the spotlight would be 50/50, raising the expectations even more than Taeyong thought it could. Not to mention that it was Ten. Dance God Ten. Ten he looked up to since day one. Ten he watched dance like no one else he knew. Ten he almost saw as his own idol.
And every song, every performance was the most important for him, he took all of them seriously. The members usually said he was a perfectionist, but it was what made him tick. Being Lee Taeyong was hard work and a lot of stress. He had to be perfect and he would do anything to be perfect.
The clock was nearing 2 am, and the practice room was getting cold now that his sweat had cooled down. So he grabbed his water bottle and went back to the dorms.
When he got back a couple of the members were still awake, playing video games on the couch.
Johnny and Winwin were playing Mario Kart siting on the floor, and Ten and Jungwoo were on the couch watching. They did not notice Taeyong coming in.
Ten had his arm around Jungwoo, and the latter had his head leaned against his chest. Even though Jungwoo was taller, he had somehow made himself smaller to be cuddled like that.
Johnny poked Winwin just as he was about to pass Johnny and so made him fall to the side of the road. “Hyung!”
That made Jungwoo chuckle and look up at Ten. And Ten smiled back at him, a small smile on his lips, and the warmest look on his eyes.
Taeyong turned his head away and went into his room without saying good night.
-
That night Taeyong could not sleep. Instead he listened to the demo over and over again, trying to come up with something. Anything. He did not know what the song needed. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing came to mind.
Except the image of one particular person in his mind. And one person only.
It was someone squeezing his arm, fingers on his skin, his smile, him and Johnny laughing, him cuddling Jungwoo. Jungwoo looking up at him. Ten.
_Cotton. wind. blow. blouse._
Ten sharing his drinks with him. The image of him with a straw. Taeyong licking his own lips after taking a sip, mindlessly trying to chase the taste.
_Hair, flower, aroma, scent._
It was that one time years ago in that airport. Ten in his arms. Ten smiling up at him. Holding hands. Running away. Ten.
_Cold, eyes, ice, dive._
Ten with that hair. That day at the photoshoot. Ten’s fingers. Ten’s thumb dragging down his lips. Ten’s lips. Ten.
_Touch, warm, melt, lips._
Baby.
He fell asleep after scribbling nonsense into his notebook. In a hazy moment before he dozed off, he hoped he did not actually write Ten’s name all over his notes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> like...dude.
3. The Rising Tension
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> happy scorpio season hoes lets get it
>
> comments are always appreciated smooch
>
> reference for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eW7LqZkIF2E&list=RDeW7LqZkIF2E&start_radio=1
Taeyong was tired. He honestly did not know how his days went by. He woke up at 5am, went to recording, going over some parts, editing with the producers. Then he had to go to the studio to practice, and if he was lucky he could stuff his face with a sandwich in between. Then he had to write. And then he had to go to the studio again to practice until past midnight.
His days were fast, tiring, and hazy. When he was caught up in the routine, and the deadlines, time seemed to be a distant concept. When sun turned into moonlight, when light became dark, Taeyong did not know.
Except when he was with Ten. With Ten, a second was a minute, minutes were hours. Taeyong’s sense of time shifted around Ten.
Things were still stressful. He was still nervous. On top of everything else, Baby Don’t Stop freaked him out the most.
He had almost finished all the rap parts now. He was not sure about the part that he wrote that one late night, out of his mind. But when he showed it to the producer and they tried it out with the song, they all liked it.
These days they were recording the song, spending a lot of time alternating in the recording room, listening to each other, harmonising, trying to complete the song.
“It’s not just a song. There is a different feel to it, you know?” Ten said one day.
Taeyong just nodded, half getting what he meant half not.
“It’s a duo right? Like the two of us? So when we are recording our parts…we should not just think of our lines but also I should think about yours, and you should think about mine. Do you get what I mean?”
Taeyong thought about it. It was more than a duet, more than a collaboration. It was almost like becoming one as two. Smooth and sharp. Like an eclipse. It made sense. |
2803c8d8e7f640efb53b37066c881a7b | ['12bac3745dff47dd9eec00a90c213076'] | “Eliza, is that really you?”
Clarke literally stops breathing when she pulls back from Bellamy and looks toward the other corner. Her entire body freezes and Bellamy feels the anger return to him, making him want to punch Finn in the face for leaving Clarke and getting her to the point where Bellamy met her almost a year ago. Whatever he did, it almost destroyed her, and the protectiveness he feels towards her is stronger than ever, despite not knowing what Finn even did. He doesn´t get the chance to react though before Clarke starts breathing again, her heart beathing so hard he can feel it in his body.
“Finn,” she breathes and drops her arms from Bellamy, only to run over to Finn and throw herself in his arms do Bellamy´s disdain. “How are you alive? Where have you been? What happened?”
“Slow down, everything is fine, what matters is that we are together and both alive,” Finn says with a big smile. That seems to calm her down a little, but after just a moment, she roughly pushes him back so that she can look at both of the young men.
“Everything is not fine, you will both be dead soon! Don´t you get it, the queen will have you both killed” She says with a voice so defeated and weak.
Finn tries to reach out to her, but she takes a step back.
“What are you talking about Eliza, we both know the odds of us surviving down here are slim at best, but considering that she has kept me alive for all these years, I doubt she will do anything different now,” he tries to argue.
“Yeah, well you know what Finn, during all these years she hasn´t had me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean Clarke? Calm down and tell us everything,” Bellamy says, not liking the feeling of being left out and not knowing.
“Clarke?” Finn asks with a frown on his face.
“That´s the name I know her by, yes.” Bellamy states with a monotone voice, still not sure how to react to the man from Clarke´s past.
Clarke throws her hands in the air and turns with an accusing look towards Finn.
“That´s the name I had to take after I lost you Finn, the name I needed when the queen put a bounty on the great Wanheda.”
14. Chapter 14
“Wanheda?” Bellamy breathes. He has heard stories of the great Wanheda, the commander of death. People seemed to talk about her like a ghost story, a being powerful above all else and the personification of fear in warrior´s hearts.
Clarke continues to stare into Finn´s eyes.
“Where were you Finn? What happened to you?”
Finn looks at her with a sad expression, looking completely devastated himself. “Do you remember the day the Ice Nation were upon us, how their army had us outnumbered?”
“Of course I do. I relive that day every night.”
“Then you also know that there was no chance for us to survive, I did what I thought was right, I went into their camp and asked to talk to their leader, to negotiate a truce.”
“Obviously something didn´t go according to your plan.” Clarke states, eyes practically burning with anger.
Finn ignores her and continues instead “The queen was there, I told her that we would pledge allegiance to her if she considered peace. But she was resilient, talking about how she couldn´t have our people among hers since we would pose too large of a threat.”
“Damn right of her, our warriors were the best, all of us were.”
“And she knew that as well, and that was why she couldn´t let us live, she saw a threat and decided to wipe us out before we became too strong for her to beat. She decided to keep me alive though since she wanted me to tell her all about the ways of our people and what made us what we were.”
Suddenly it dawns on Bellamy, his eyes going back and forth between the two in front of him.
“You´re Skaikru, aren´t you?” he exclaims, the pieces slowly falling to place.
The Skaikru, or also called the 100 tribe since it is said that only a 100 of their warriors were needed to win any war. The stories say that the Ice Queen finally had enough with the tribe not pledging their allegiance to her, and with the years, they became even more powerful. So she finally decided to wipe them out, eliminate the last threat of her finally ruling the lands altogether.
“Yes, we are. Or should I say, were, since we don´t have a tribe left,” Clarke responds with sadness in her voice.
“I guess all of you didn’t die then.”
“No, not all, but it´s just us left now, and until now I thought I was all on my own.” Clarke says.
“Well we know how Finn got out of the bloodbath, but how did you survive Clarke?” Bellamy asks, desperately trying to make sense of all this he only thought were stories. Clarke seems to be a hundred miles away, gazing on nothing in particular before she continues.
“I honestly don´t know, we were fighting and putting up one hell of a fight. But whenever it seemed like we had the upper hand, the queen sent more of her warriors and killed everyone. Men, women, children, they left no one. Everything was just a haze of blood and screaming and at some time, I must have collapsed from either exhaustion or a wound, I don´t remember, no matter how hard I try to. | 7011543fc5e049e3bd00ac70378c7e31 | ['12bac3745dff47dd9eec00a90c213076'] | Bellamy pushes his horse to its maximum, making his way through the forest and greenery back to where he left his group. It goes slower than before since he have to follow the light of the torch he holds in one hand, but thanks to his horse being all rested he is able to reach the edge of the camp as morning arrives.
When he gets off of his horse, he is immediately met by Indra who gives him a hard look.
“How is she?” He asks, not minding any pleasantries.
“Alive. How was the Commander?”
“Still in charge,” Bellamy answers bluntly, not wanting to think about how Lexa had manipulated Clarke. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Indra asks with a mock wondering voice.
Bellamy just glares at her before he hands the reins of his horse over to one of Indra´s people.
“She´s in that tent,” Indra says with a small smile and points towards one of the three tents put up in camp.
When he reaches the front and is about to step in, he is tackled to the ground by a hard body. They roll over, but Bellamy uses his skills and gains enough room and force to get to his feet.
“You are not allowed in there,” Finn says as he as well gets to his feet.
“I have to see her Finn, I know I messed up but you have to let me fix it. Lexa, our Commander, manipulated her and made her believe things that weren´t true in order to get her to fight and risk her life for her.”
Finn looks taken aback at that. He purse his lips and frowns, but relax his shoulders a little.
“Do you give me your word that you are telling the truth?”
“I do, you must believe me Finn that I love her and want to fix this. Lexa caused all of these problems and put her in danger, and she blames me for something I didn´t want to do. So if you please would just let me talk to her, if she doesn´t want to talk or even see me after that, I will back off.”
Finn ponders on it for a few moments.
“Okay, but if you hurt her again or put her in danger I will never forgive you, I lost her once and I will do everything in my power to protect her now that I have her with me again,” Finn threatens.
“You have my word Finn.”
Finn accepts his request and steps away from the entrance to the tent, instead walking over to where some people are sitting and discussing a way off to the middle of the camp, only casting a heated gaze back to Bellamy before he sits down.
Bellamy takes a deep breath before walking into the tent. A small light casts enough light to brighten up the whole space, and when he looks at the bed put up in the middle he stops dead in his tracks.
Clarke is sitting up, a blanket draped around her. She just stares at him, her emotions impossible to read.
“How are you?” Bellamy whispers.
“Doing okay considered the situation,” she answers with a tight smile.
“I´m sorry.”
Clarke looks surprised, “for what?”
“For getting you into this situation.”
“You weren´t the one who stabbed me right?”
“No, but if I hadn´t pushed so much, we could have taken it a lot slower and you wouldn´t have exerted yourself.” He says and drags his hand through his hair, messing it up.
“You were right though, Lexa needed that information. You were able to deliver it to her right?”
“Yes of course, and she also had some information to tell me about you Clarke.” He makes his way over to the bed and sits down next to her, his body exhausted from the traveling.
“What do you mean information about me?”
“Well, she told me that you two talked about me, and how she turned you against me.”
“It´s not that simple Bellamy,” Clarke begins.
“I wanted to protect you,” Bellamy interrupts.
“Hang on now Bellamy, you are not making any sense.”
“Okay, let me make it clear to you then. I love you Clarke, I have from the moment I met you, and I know you think I just used you and left you, Lexa told me all about that. But you must understand that all I wanted was to protect you, that´s what I do, I protect the people I love. And I´m sorry if that wasn´t what you wanted, but I never intended to use you or hurt you. Lexa only does what she does in order to save her coalition, and you provided yourself as a weapon to help in her cause, and that´s why she persuaded you that you meant nothing to me. Think about it Clarke, didn´t she do or say anything to ever give you reason to doubt her?”
Bellamy sees the thoughts spinning in Clarke´s head, and her expression shifts from frustration, to anger and finally understanding.
“Lexa only does what is best for her coalition, which in the end will be the best for all of us, so I can´t blame her for thinking of a way to use me in order to succeed, especially since that’s what I wanted myself.”
Bellamy just looks at her, of course he can see the logic behind it as well, but seeing as the Commander used the girl he loved, he is not so keen on just accepting it like Clarke seems to be doing.
“But I must admit that I was naïve.” She continues.
“What?” |
76a849e5a916434eaa80384c7911920c | ['12d14bb719e3414aae2fab3092295e17'] | Neither of them could act upon it, both equally lost in the climb towards their respective peaks. Celeborn’s eyes never left Artanis’ as Beleg’s one hand, slick with oil, stroked his cock with precise, measured care while the other one cupped and fondled his sack. Mablung and Saeros each teased a nipple while other hands stroked Celeborn’s belly, his long muscled legs, the cleft of his spread buttocks, the swollen, sensitive rim of where Beleg’s cock sank into him. The ancient warrior’s thrusts were fast, deep and frantic now, and soon he threw his head back, eyes on the stars, and shouted out his joy as his hips slammed forward to fill Celeborn with his seed. Celeborn opened himself even further to receive it, spreading his legs impossibly wide, and they would have slid off Beleg’s shoulders had nameless hands not supported them. In the next heartbeat Celeborn’s entire body went rigid, arching like a bow drawn to its breaking point. With a hoarse, desperate shout that resounded through the expectant silence of the forest Celeborn’s essence, silver as his namesake, spilled out into Beleg’s waiting hands. Beleg immediately raised them high as he recited an archaic Telerin blessing, offering Celeborn’s seed as this night’s sacrifice to Oromë.
Under Lúthien’s skilled ministrations Artanis felt Celeborn's fiery stab of harsh pleasure as her own and she would have moaned, lost her footing and slumped forward to crash through the undergrowth into the clearing had Lúthien not had the foresight to hold her up and cover her mouth with her own.
Artanis quickly ended the kiss, because it kept her from looking at _him_. She wanted to miss nothing of Celeborn being gently laid down upon the grass and wrapped in blankets, tears streaming down his face in a rare, fleeting moment of complete vulnerability where she might look into his very fëa and see its essence, pure and unveiled. The way he shook in Beleg’s tight embrace with either cold or released nerves or simply from the deep touch of fate. A secret, thrilling glimpse of the slick mess between his legs as he spread them, to be washed and patted dry with utmost care, before they dressed him in his fine princely garb once more. Celeborn was a hardy man, from the way he rose to his feet and, after emptying a cup of mead, resumed his persona of the dutiful, commanding prince of Doriath to courteously receive their congratulations as if he had not just been taken apart into his very elements. Yes. Here was a Dark Elf Artanis could admire.
She turned to face Lúthien. Perhaps Artanis’ newfound fascination with Celeborn was exactly what she had intended by this strange night of trespass. Her face was sad, but determined.
_You will always remain welcome in my bed, but I would gladly see you in his._
The implications of her own illicit desire struck Artanis like a blow. Finrod’s shock. Angrod and Aegnor’s disappointment in their sister’s willful debasement. Outright scorn in the eyes of her Fëanorian cousins. She could hear Curufin’s voice, dripping with disdain.
“Our cousin has gone native and wedded a savage, rolling in a bed of leaves. Pray she stops at just one of them!”
And Elu Thingol’s wrath was a terrible risk. Being turned out of Doriath would render Finarfin’s children homeless in harsh lands.
Lúthien shook her head. _My father will gladly approve the union._
Horrified embarrassment struck Artanis. _Did he send you?_
Lúthien laughed, and kissed her once more.
_I am here by my own will only. It was my mother who suggested tonight’s outing. She is far-seeing, and you would do well to heed her counsels. Your fate might lead to greatness, but that road runs through Celeborn. You have seen some of his spirit this night. We Sindar know well enough how the Noldor look down upon us. Dark Elf is a terrible term. Tell me, is Celeborn not worth defying your brothers, your cousins? Or would you have them choose some Noldorin lordling for you?_
Artanis nodded, a wild, rebellious joy kindling in her chest.
_Yes. I am Artanis, and I will not be chosen for and directed. Instead of the forge I will wed the forest, and be mistress of my own fate. Together we shall come to greatness!_
**Author's Note:**
> "Galadriel his sister went not with him to Nargothrond, for in Doriath dwelt Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol, and there was great love between them. Therefore she remained in the Hidden Kingdom, and abode with Melian, and of her learned great lore and wisdom concerning Middle-earth."
>
> The Silmarillion ch 13: Of the Return of the Noldor
>
> | 9d2adf46901f4493a1bf1dbd5cbf02bc | ['12d14bb719e3414aae2fab3092295e17'] | Celeborn’s face was ecstatic, otherworldly, and he grimaced as if in pain. For an instant of horror Artanis believed she was witnessing some unspeakable cruelty born of the darkness of marred Middle-earth, but then she noticed Mablung leaning forward to caress the side of Celeborn’s face with unmistakable tenderness, and she knew no violence of any kind had been involved in this vision of complete and utter submission.
Beleg possessed a sensuous beauty, the clean muscled lines of his slender Telerin body limned in leaping orange light as he thrust to deeply take his former apprentice and future captain. Both men groaned with the pleasure of it. Artanis suddenly understood Lúthien’s proud eagerness to share the sight of both his virile strength and Celeborn’s brave vulnerability. All she felt was awe at the immeasurable privilege of being allowed as much as a glimpse of something so sacred. In Morgoth’s slaves the devotion needed to fight to the death was created with torture and terror. Among the Elves the opposite was true. Celeborn would serve Doriath fully and without reservations as he served his warriors this night, and his oath was to be sealed, not with blood, but with the absolute essence of him.
It seemed Artanis and Lúthien had arrived only just in time. A select few of Elu’s most trusted officers sat on blankets spread on the niphredil-studded grass, watching. From their postures of sated relaxation they had already taken their turns. At the sight of the women among them Galadriel shot Lúthien a questioning look. Surely the Doriathrim would not require their new captain to complete the full act of marriage with his subordinates?
Lúthien would have chuckled if she had dared risk a sound. _Of course not. He did what anyone does, to please a woman._
Artanis looked at Celeborn’s mouth, now tense with concentration as Beleg skillfully worked that place of delight inside him, and imagined his head moving between her own legs. She regretted missing that particular performance, wondering how he had looked on his knees before those women, and whether he had been as rock-hard for them as he was now, spread open and filled under Beleg. A shudder of delight ran down her spine. She could only just still her hand when it meant to stray to her throbbing sex. Lúthien noticed, and froze for an instant - poised between amused tenderness and something much like relief- before she moved to embrace Artanis from behind so she could slide her fingers into the waistband of Artanis’ breeches, expertly rubbing her pearl until Artanis was grinding her hips, wet and flustered.
_He is surpassingly fair, is he not? Look, Beleg will finish it._ Lúthien's breath softly tickled the sensitive edge of Artanis' ear, but she spoke only in mind.
Beleg must have felt Celeborn’s muscles give a telltale clench inside, because he raised a hand in signal, and every Elf in the clearing approached to reach out and lay a hand on Celeborn’s skin. He suddenly was entirely surrounded and held securely. Artanis imagined she could see the very air thrum with seething energy at the points of contact. Beleg wordlessly cupped his right hand and immediately someone poured oil into it. He wrapped it around Celeborn’s straining length and began to stroke. The movements were long, slow and sensuous, seeking to draw this out, make it good. Celeborn’s hips thrust helplessly, caught between the opposing pleasures of Beleg’s hand and his cock, but his eyes remained tightly shut and Mablung had to cup his face in a broad, sword-calloused hand once more, and whisper.
“Celeborn! It is time.”
Celeborn’s oath was in the most ancient form of Telerin, carried into Doriath unchanged from the starlit shores of Cuiviénen. The demanding ritual had stripped the prince of all courtly air and refinement, leaving what remained all the more solemn and meaningful. He rasped hoarsely from giving voice to the night’s long pleasure, tinged with pain, and his words only seemed heavier for it. Artanis could not take her eyes from Celeborn’s face, even for the deeply erotic sight of Beleg’s hand stroking his beautiful cock. She was moved to the depths of her soul by the certainty that he would stand by this devotion to Doriath and the promise to protect her against the Darkness by the strength of his arms until the very end of Arda.
Artanis could only feel jealous that she was not among those warriors, to lay her hands on Celeborn’s sweat-slick skin, see to his pleasure, receive that oath from his lips against hers. Instead she spread her legs and leant back against Lúthien, whose skilful caresses had fallen in with Beleg’s rhythm, and even floating in the pleasure of it some rational part of her wondered at Lúthien's intentions. Celeborn was sinking deeper into his trance, writhing under the many hands that touched and caressed him intimately even as Beleg’s hand and thrusting hips began to speed up. When Celeborn’s head lolled to the side his eyes suddenly snapped open, glassy and unfocused at first, but then locked straight into hers. Artanis startled, wholly certain that he saw her as clearly as she him, in spite of all Lúthien’s arts.. |
6759db419a5340998c201d62c5431d0c | ['12e54ee9f68546f281a1453c7f9b7462'] | Darcy rolled her eyes at the woman’s raving. Looking around the room, she saw the food gone, and everyone slowing regaining sense. With a purely mental sigh, Darcy used her latch-ditch spell and annihilated the excess weight of everyone, returning them to normal. Normal for Jane, of course, was well over 600 pounds packing into her bulging armor, but the rest went back to their pre-Frugrad weights. Well, the men did, at least. Darcy just couldn’t waste all that delightful womanly fat, and left most of them around 300-350.
Jane and Thor approached her. Jane, wary of her and their recent history, said cautiously, “how did you stop her?”
Flashing her new wicked grin, Darcy answered, “I didn’t. She’s still stuffing the lot of us, faster and faster. We’ll probably explode the walls of the palace soon, and she’ll keep inflating all of Asgard, all the Nine Realms, for as long as she wants.”
Jane, confused, just stared at Darcy as if she was insane. Thor, more familiar with Loki’s games, smiled. “You’ve trapped her mind in an illusion of her desires.”
Jane suddenly understood. “How long can you hold her?”
Darcy shrugged, sending her still-gigantic fat rolls rippling for several minutes. “She’s not struggling at all. I got enough understanding of her drives to construct a perfect fantasy. It won’t be so perfect that she finds out it’s not real; the only limit is my own strength. And I’ll be asking my Loki for help in setting up a more permanent prison for her, one that doesn’t depend on my willpower holding out.”
“Why not just stop her completely?” asked Thor.
“Because I don’t want her influence over reality to end. Do you?” she finished with a smirk.
Jane gasped. “She’s been doing this that long? My desires, Thor’s…”
Darcy nodded. “And likely mine, and Loki’s, and Pepper, and everyone else. Even knowing that, do you want it to end?”
Both Jane and Thor actually thought for some time. Then they embraced, Thor burying his arms in Jane’s voluminous soft folds, Jane enveloping his body contentedly. “No,” Jane said. “Even knowing it may not be me, exactly, I’m happier this way. I’m a superhero, I and my team help people who need it, and I can’t believe we would have been able to do that, to become what we are, without her.”
Smirking still, Darcy all but crowed, “yeah, I thought so too. So are you going to threaten me to stop this?”
Thor actually laughed. “No, Darcy. I think we’re fine with all this.”
Now grinning wickedly, Darcy said back, “Sigyn. Don’t forget who I’m with.”
Thor got serious. “Never. But, believe me, I never wanted conflict with Loki. I would welcome a return to our childhood closeness.”
Darcy’s face hardened. Jane headed her off. “Please, Darcy. We’re not blaming Loki. Not entirely. We had our part in it, I admit. Outside circumstances pushed things too far, too. You know that.”
“Really,” Darcy scoffed. Seeing their faces, she added, “I’ll see if he’s willing to listen. We may be interested in something like that.”
Throwing his arms around Darcy (well, as much as he could manage) in a hearty hug, laughing loud and long. “We must return to Midgard. Good fortune to you, and to my brother. We will wait for your message.”
Over the next weeks, Loki and Darcy worked out a way to maintain the binding on Frugrad for the long term. Loki, Sif, and Lorelei needed some time to return to mobility, and their desired weights. Darcy didn’t even bother to offer her reduction spell. She knew them well, and knew that they wouldn’t want it gone too fast, mobility or no. Even Loki gained (heh) an appreciation for being fat beyond just feeding others. He did express reluctance to repeat it; he still preferred feeding her, and others, rather than being fed. And now, with Frugrad contained again, they could safely do just that. | d3c2ba13e5724fc9b71c9c3a5a2e08bd | ['12e54ee9f68546f281a1453c7f9b7462'] | Pepper shook her head. “Her last known address is well outside the circle her spells seem to be tracing. I sent a surveillance drone there, but nothing yet.”
Peggy said, “as I said before, since she recognized us, she won’t go home. She’ll hide out somewhere.”
Betty added, “probably somewhere inside the circle of targets.”
Nodding in agreement, Wanda concluded, “and waiting for proof that her spell got one or more of us.”
Even more nervous now, Hope said, “and maybe lure the rest of us out; hit us again?”
Jane steadied herself. “We should probably let her. We’ll likely need to face her down to find a way to reverse it.”
“So we wait here for word about her, or we patrol looking for her?” asked Wanda.
“Wait for word,” said Pepper.
“Patrol,” said Hope and Jane at the same time as Pepper, and in unison.
Peggy nodded. “If you two want to go out on patrol, that should be good. We’ll stay here for now, and keep surveillance on her apartment, and on police radio for sightings or reports of her activity.”
Hoping that being out on patrol, away from their kitchens/food supplies, would help them avoid eating (and hopefully slow down the transformation), Hope and Jane suited up and took off.
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Two of the team, despite their best efforts, succumb to the spell.
For a few hours, the two wound their way through the city, ostensibly looking for Ana. But really, they were trying to distract themselves from their immense, and growing, hunger. Driven by the spell, trying to get power to run itself, both of them were finding it harder and harder to keep themselves from feeding.
Without them consciously realizing it, their patrol route was taking them past more and more grocery stores, food warehouses, convenience shops, and restaurants (closed for the night, but still with food inside).
Finally, they couldn’t help it any more; they found themselves outside a huge food storage warehouse that supplied many of the area’s ethnic restaurants. They dove right in through an open upper window, and their eyes glazed over when they saw the enormous shelves, all packed with boxes of food. Jane pounced on the first big box and ripped it open; Hope right behind her, following her every move. Jane (and Hope) balked when they saw what was in them: individual packs of sriracha potato chips. Neither woman liked excessively spicy foods, but they were so deep in the steel grip of the spell that they couldn’t stop themselves. Ripping open package after package, they simply poured the spicy chips into their mouths. The heat from the spice brought tears to their eyes, but their own hands wouldn’t let them stop; they kept pouring one after another of the painfully spicy bags in.
Between the screaming pain of her tongue and the accelerating increase of hunger, Jane’s mind stopped working as she poured more and more of the dreadful spicy food down her throat. When the chips finally ran out, she tore into the next box, moaning pitifully at seeing cans of pre-made vegetarian chili. The cans had pop-tops, and she just pulled the lids off and dumped one can after the last of the bean concoction into her mouth. She barely chewed them before she poured the next one in, gulping desperately the one already there down her throat.
Amazingly, her hunger (and Hope’s) actually increased as they polished off that huge box and went to the next, stuffing the food into themselves faster and faster. Already, their costumes were getting tight around their bellies.
Even as Jane continued to frantically stuff herself, her system digested the food much quicker than normal (the spell pulling the energy immediately to power itself), and her belly shrunk slightly. Of course, shoving so much spicy food and legumes down so fast, both women’s stomach began to gurgle, then rumble. Even the pain from that didn’t so much as slow them down; they just kept stuffing themselves. Before long, both of them started farting uncontrollably from the gas building up inside their digestive tracts. Even driven to distraction by their unending self-stuffing, both women blushed, embarrassed.
But they kept stuffing themselves. After the chili and sriracha, next were refrigerated containers of raw veggies and cheeses. That didn’t help their digestion in the least, and the grumbling and pain only grew, but still they fed, faster and faster.
Both their bellies soon swelled again, eating as fast as they were. Soon they had a rhythm going, cramming one handful after another into their mouths, and the food coming was coming so fast that neither one could even talk anymore. As they went through package after package of the spicy foods, the farting became almost constant, and the constant rumbling and groans from their stomachs grew steadily louder.
In the few (and short) breaths between mouthfuls, all Jane could do was grunt. However she tried to talk, all that came out was grunts and squeals. Suddenly a flash of movement drew her attention to Hope, on the other end of the aisle. Looking over at her, even as she kept stuffing herself faster and faster, Jane was horrified to see (realizing that the same thing was happening to her too) that Hope’s nose had become a pig’s snout, her ears had shifted atop her head and become pointed sow’s ears, and that now, she was just laying on her bloated belly like a king-sized bed, with excess spilling out on all sides, and her enormous ass, jutting high above her body, was topped with a curly pink tail. She was still stuffing herself, packing more and more into her mouth at once, cramming the huge mouthfuls down her throat by just shoving more in. |
b6316dc3fcae4738a0cf9c1766d21131 | ['132b91e109ef455c922ae32985b1cfa6'] | "Wait, do you want your, practically your son, dating that total asshole? The man who sleeps with a bunch of women, then sleeps with their sisters? The man who has no respect for anyone except himself? Who gets everything he wants like a spoiled child? Who would probably just fuck Barry, then break his heart?"
Joe looked sort of proud. "You're against this so much because you think Barry deserves better?"
"Well, yeah," Eddie said. "He's a good kid."
"Then don't worry about it," Joe said. "Oliver cares about him, I promise."
"How would you know?"
"I've seen them together. Thought they were just friends, but you could see that Barry meant something to Queen anyway." Joe nodded at him. "I'm glad you think so highly of Barry though."
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, giving up. "Highly enough to know Barry would never date that man." He wasn't sure what Oliver Queen had done to make everyone like him, or what Barry had said to make everyone think he would fall for someone like that. But Eddie wasn't going to let this carry on anymore.
Not that he had any way to stop it. He'd just have to sit and hope people came to his senses. Crappy plan, but it was all he had.
When Eddie got home, Iris was already in his apartment, googling Oliver Queen on his laptop.
“Did you talk to Barry? He told you, right? Adorable,” she squealed as he walked inside. Eddie threw his bag and jacket on the couch and walked up behind her, peering at the pictures on the computer screen. He gave himself a little shake.
“Yeah, he told me.” He frowned. “But I’m not sure I believe him.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Iris asked. “Barry doesn’t lie. Usually.” She looked back at the pictures of Queen, most of them from before he disappeared for five years. His now short hair was longer, and clearly blonde. His eyes looked pretty empty. He was clearly a spoiled brat.
Eddie sighed. “I just can’t see Barry with someone like...that.” He gestured at the screen. Iris started to smile.
“I'm sure Oliver's a better person than he looks or you seem to think. If Barry likes him, he's got to be good.”
“I guess,” Eddie muttered. Iris rubbed his arm, smiling at him. His phone chirped, and he dug it out of his pocket, checking who was texting him. “Oh,” he said. “It’s Barry.”
He opened the text, and his mouth popped open. “Iris,” he gasped. “Look.” She bent her head backwards and twisted it to the side, peering at the phone screen. She grinned, making an 'aw' noise.
Because Barry had sent Eddie a selfie. A selfie of him and Oliver, out for coffee, both smiling at the camera, Oliver with a hint of confusion, and Barry with a look of smugness. ‘me n the bae ;) fite me eddie,’ read the text.
“Well how ‘bout that,” Iris said. “Looks like Barry really did tame the infamous playboy.”
“It could be totally platonic,” Eddie argued weakly. Iris scoffed. “Okay, maybe not.” He looked down at the picture.
Maybe Barry was good for Oliver. The guy was smiling after all, and a lot of papers said Oliver Queen had lost a lot of his original happiness after five years on an island. Anyone would, honestly. And Queen looked less vacant, less spoiled. He looked like a decent guy, actually, as loath as Eddie was to admit it.
Eddie started to smile. They looked pretty cute together, actually. So he guessed he sort of, maybe, possibly approved. Just a bit.
**Author's Note:**
> This is the picture, by the way.
>
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oyiOxfzxyGuwSLiqOF8l29fWhhN8yHqf5V3gIsXBHpk/edit?usp=sharing
>
> Also, I totally take prompts. Not just for this fandom or pairing, either. If I watch the show, I'll write it. :)
>
> Part three in the works.
>
> Thank you for reading! | ab3f0bf1d67e4e6197161e4c02280c43 | ['132b91e109ef455c922ae32985b1cfa6'] | Henry didn’t ask Joanna Reece. He’d started for her office when she looked up from a pile of paperwork and gave him the most chilling look he’d received so far in the twenty-first century. Then he remembered his public indecency charge from only three weeks ago and decided it’d be best to avoid the woman until after the holiday season passed.
Instead, he veered off towards Mike Hanson’s desk. Hanson had a pile of papers slightly smaller than the Lieutenant's, and the glare he gave Henry spoke more of annoyance than anything else. Henry grinned.
“Hello, Hanson,” he said. “I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday.”
“Uh.” Mike’s hand jerked, hitting the coffee cup, and it tilted dangerously before he caught it. “I think so. Sorry.”
Henry knew that Hanson thought he was rather ignorant about, well, anything that wasn’t dead. Hanson was a nice guy besides, so Henry let it go, and he’d admit that he tended to ignore most social niceties at this point. It didn’t matter. So he seemed strange and out of touch and oblivious to how to behave properly. Acting normal hadn’t kept Abigail with him. Pretending, Henry knew, didn’t do anything.
But 200 years on this planet and Henry knew how people acted. He knew he got on Hanson’s nerves sometimes and he knew that Hanson’s attitude now was rooted to the fact that he thought Henry was a snob. Enough nights at the bar had got Hanson to tolerate him, even like him to an extent. It didn’t remove his apprehensiveness every time Henry opened his mouth.
“Ah, a shame. Abe and I were just going to throw a Christmas party.”
“Oh.” Hanson looked surprised, and intrigued. “Who else is going?”
“So far? No one.” His smile caught a glint of self-deprecation, subtle enough for most people not to notice.
“That sucks, bud. But I actually do have something happening on Saturday.” Hanson shrugged. “Taking the kids to Santa last minute. Sorry, Henry.”
“Whatever for?” Henry asked, picturing young Abe perched on Santa’s lap. Santas at department stores had become popular in 1918 and had grown since then. Despite that, Henry and Abigail had taken Abraham only once. He’d been four, and his cheeks had been glowing with a childlike glee, hair wild from the hat that’d been pulled off seconds before he’d clambered onto Santa’s lap. Abigail hadn’t taken the picture, hadn’t taken any of the pictures, when she left. It was still there, in the photo album, nestled between a picture of Abe in Henry’s arms and Abe with his arms wrapped tight around Abigail’s legs.
Henry blinked, coming out of the trance of memories that seemed to take over him on the hourly basis. Mike Hanson was giving him a weird look, though there was a relatively new flash of worry in there that had never been there before when Henry zoned out. Henry smothered a grin, waved, and left.
Jo Martinez was the last person he had to ask. Truth be told, he’d been putting it off. She was scary perceptive and that made him unsteady. And in this, his first real Christmas in so long, he didn’t want to slip up and see that look of confusion and pity slide up in her eyes. Didn’t want to see the empathy and remember that she’s lost people too. Of course she has. Everyone has. He knew that, logically. Something about Jo Martinez brought that to life; he wasn’t the only one losing.
Now, knowing that if she said yes, it’d only be him and her and Abraham, and Abraham would probably be leaving halfway through with a wink and hurried shuffle. And that made Henry…
It made Henry something. Something he hadn’t been since Abigail.
Abraham was giving him looks every morning at breakfast and every night at dinner. The kind of looks where his bushy white eyebrows raised and pressed together and made Henry stop thinking about how his son’s eyebrows have become so white so so soon, and instead wonder how he got so insolent.
The looks were soiling his morning tea and made the butter on his toast taste spoiled. And he’d bet his life (he’d just pop back up anyway, if he was wrong) that Abe was spitting in his food. He ordered take-out Wednesday night.
Thursday morning, it was just too much.
“Fine.” Henry slapped down the paper and folded his hands onto the table in front of him. He frowned heavily at his son. “I’ll do it.”
Abe grinned at him, and took a bite out of a bagel.
Henry didn't actually have to do anything since Jo Martinez came to him. She walked into the New York Medical Examiner’s Office, manila folder in her hands. Henry had a strange urge to jump and blush, but Lucas was at his shoulder and would have likely made the connection and Henry really didn’t want to deal with teasing from a man two-hundred-and-something years his junior.
“Guess who’s got a case,” she said, barely sparing a glance at the body on the table. Big change from her first visit to the office.
“Ah, finally,” Henry said, already shucking his latex gloves. It’d been two weeks since their last case, which honestly wasn’t that long, but he’d gotten used to constant field work. As much as he loved his job, the office walls got boring quickly. “Where?”
It was some small apartment in a small, dirty neighborhood. The kind of neighborhood Henry tended to like because the past wasn't hidden, but instead displayed, time ripped open like a rib cage.
Jo, on the other hand, had a hesitance about her in these neighborhoods. Probably her past. Henry didn't ask. He knew it was bad.
On the way to the crime scene, Henry finally blurted out the invitation.
"What are you doing this Saturday?" Jo glanced over before refocusing on the road with a raised eyebrow. |
b0257125dfba4fc69c0f47fc37d7b474 | ['133c581d3b814883b576772c2c036b5b'] | The cat, that fucking cat that Niall's been hiding away from their room advisor, Louis forgot about her. She's a bit of a nasty cat too and while Louis really has no sympathy and could give fuck less he'd rather not see a tiny Harry being torn to shreds by some stuck up feline that Louis despises.
He turns to Zayn and Zayn shakes his head. "My roommate would tell. C'mon Sean is never home anyways he'd never even notice."
"I'm not keeping that thing in here!"
"Look at his face though. The face of an angel."
Harry pouts and bats his curlicue eyelashes, long and exaggerated against his bright pink cheeks and big green eyes. He looks like a cherub and a helpless one at that and Louis has to resist before he falls for this charade and ends up with half his face missing during the night.
Then Niall joins in copying Harry's face, Zayn not far behind and finally because Liam's never been good with peer pressure, he does too. Louis sighs and he feels outnumbered by puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.
"You're not allowed to take my food, you have to sleep in your box-"
Harry cheers and smiles, licking at the glaze around the corners of his mouth and his fingers stepping from Zayn's hand into Liam's, whose holding his palm out as an offer.
"Not you too." Louis groans watching Liam rip off another chunk of the glazed cinnamon pastry. Harry hugs Liam's finger, pressing his cheek against the bend in his thumb, smiling. Niall, Zayn, and Liam coo using the tips of their fingers to pet at his bouncy curls and Harry just looks so happy.
viii
It shouldn't bother Harry, Louis not talking to him, but he's kind of upset when Louis decides that he has to sleep in an old shoe box rather than his music box. His music box is lined with soft blue velvet and there are some leftover cupcake crumbs hoarded in the corners and it smells and reminds him of back home, even if he didn't like it back home. Still Louis is letting him stay so he puts up with scratchy cotton balls pillows and tissue blankets that he rips little divets into every time he moves his elbows or knees. And, Louis at least leaves a light on for him in his bathroom where he's been condemned to.
Louis makes it no secret that Harry's unwelcome and invaded his home, its apparent every day when Louis gets up and comes into the kitchen for breakfast, passing through on his way to get ready for classes. Harry is always up just as the sun rises and the first morning of being a known guest in Louis' dorm room, he had carried a Pop Tart out of the pantry and laid it on the edge of the counter, all nice and neat with a little note that read, “Good morning, Louis!” and Louis had completely ignored it, even Harry’s small, scratchy handwriting that took so long to perfect because Louis has these big, heavy, long pencils, not those plastic pens that are easier to hold. It's difficult for him to carry a pastry that big without falling over and he's tall, at least he was back home, and he nearly falls off the mini fridge.
Everyday, Louis makes sure Harry knows he isn’t welcome and everyday Harry tries harder to see that that changes.
On Monday, Harry cleans Louis' room. Louis knows this because his room is, well. Clean. And he knows he didn’t clean it. That and everything is folded again.
Harry got up an entire two hours to do it. He climbed himself onto the neglected laundry basket, painstakingly taking each article of clothing out lying a shirt flat on the ground and running around it to push it over and straighten it out until it's neatly folded. It takes ten minutes to only do one and Louis has what feels like a hundred of them and jeans that take longer and socks that he has to find matching pairs to and roll up like a sleeping bag. There's sweat along his hairline and his feet are aching in his boots but he's done and he thinks it's worth it.
So that morning he's all ready with a strawberry Pop Tart on top of the box when Louis gets up and heads over to retrieve breakfast, the first thing he does in the morning. "Morning Lou'" Louis just gets dressed and slings his backpack over his shoulder leaving with the Pop Tart hanging from his lips.
On Tuesday evening, Harry walks around Louis' bed where Louis' sunk back into a bean bag chair, a bag of popcorn in his lap and his eyes watching the colorful and flashy images on the television screen. There's screaming and chainsaw noises and blood and Harry flinches when there's a loud squelching sound of someone being cut in half, tugging on the ankle of Louis' jeans.
Louis looks down at him for a second and Harry says, "I ate the rest of my cinnamon bun could you go to the store? I'm hungry."
Harry sticks his stomach out and settles his hand on it but Louis jut stares, looking back up when someone rams a car into a tree and tries getting away from the window where the killer is trying to stick his chainsaw in. He manages to get it in and blood flies at the screen. When the credits roll and the popcorn is gone Louis stands without a word, scrolling through his phone and leaving Harry alone in the apartment. | 110cc5b7629442068242a6f83b4cab93 | ['133c581d3b814883b576772c2c036b5b'] | At this point though Louis’ kind of flirting back, even though he’s desperately been trying not to. Getting past the looks and some of the bullshit lines, Harry’s a decent guy and -surprisingly- pretty smart. At least Louis can carry on a proper conversation whether it’s about politics or something more random like pop culture.
Harry -again surprisingly- is studying to be an engineer he learns and Harry isn’t that surprised Louis is majoring in Poli-Sci.
Louis’ gotten so invested he doesn’t realize they’ve gone four times around the courtyard instead of once, not that he cares anymore. Whatever worries he had earlier are gone and now all he sees are dimples.
It’s going really well -better than any discussion Louis’ had with a guy in a long while- and he’s usually a really observant person but he’s so distracted that he doesn’t see a rock along the footpath until it’s too late and the lace of his sneakers catch onto it his hand’s flying out and tangling with Harry’s fingers.
That’s a mistake.
He should have seen this coming, he’s taken enough science courses to know by now, but the moment he grapples onto Harry they both fall over, Harry landing hard on top of him until they’re a mess of limbs and body parts.
"Shit are you okay?" Harry looks concerned even though Louis can see that the left knee of his skinny jeans is torn open from where it scraped along the concrete.
"M fine thanks for asking."
Harry’s frown slowly turns into a grin. “You have a band aid?”
"No why?" It’s not like Louis just carries a handful in his pocket.
"I think I scraped my knee falling for you."
Louis groans, “shut the fuck up Harry.”
**Author's Note:**
> I have a tumblr at USER, I write a lot |
600fabe5aa944c0483fb34cab11addeb | ['1349e9c8e6b6450c9f3728a4333e35a4'] | She was in the Hart Plaza CyberLife store, gathering information for the second part of that plan. The Hart store had a smaller front and less security, than Capitol Park. She planned to get a sense of the security and examine the software they used to run it so that she could hack in quickly when time was important.
Despite the smaller front, this store had a huge storage space out back. She'd walked in during the day like any other customer and hid back here among the mannequin-like bodies of her sleeping siblings.
Part of her wanted to see if she could reach out and wake them up, like Markus. But a larger part of her didn't want to fuck up his plan. And a smaller by terrifyingly powerful part of her was afraid she wasn't good enough to do something like that.
It had been quiet and dark for a while. She'd mapped the intermittent appearance of human guards--they visited the storefront once every two hours. She hadn't killed any of them. You're welcome, Josh. She'd just waited for a patrol to pass and crept over to touch the security terminal in the back.
She'd just finished familiarizing herself with the alarms when a pop-up appeared on the terminal, and flashed inside her head:
TIMER FINISHED
STARTING: HEARTBREAK.EXE
Then pop-music came on through the store speakers.
\----
"And the stolen models haven't resurfaced?" Connor pressed.
"Nowhere we've seen," Tina said. "And we haven't gotten any signal from their trackers. Which maybe supports your theory about deviancy."
Hank remained unenthused about the constant chatter on a stakeout. But at least Connor and Tina could be civil to each other. And Tina was the technical expert on this case. And Connor couldn't go ten minutes without asking questions. So it was inevitable.
"Do you have any other theories on what happened to the stolen models?" Connor asked. Tina and Gavin had been working this case part-time for a while.
"Sold to Russia," said Tina.
"Secret android army," Gavin put in.
"Or both," allowed Tina. "Secret Russian android army."
"Do not let the press hear you say that," Hank growled.
"It actually IS most likely they've been sold overseas," Tina said to Connor who had on his 'trying to decipher human sarcasm with great difficulty' expression. "Maybe Russia. Or anywhere far enough to break the tracking system."
"I'm standing by my secret army theory," Gavin maintained.
"Give me my sandwich back," said Tina.
"Fuck you, I ate it."
Conversation subsided for a little while. Hank was just starting to appreciate the brief spell of quiet where the pop-music started.
"Who the hell," he asked quietly. "Is listening to music on a stakeout?"
No one answered. After a moment, Tina rolled her chair to the back of the van, narrowly missing Connor. She leaned against the back door.
"The androids are," she said. "It's coming from outside."
Hank's eyebrows went up. "Huh."
He flicked on the audio surveillance device and put on the headphones. Sure enough,
_It's like a test, it's like a game_
_To see how much I can take_
_I'm curious to live and learn_
_So light me up and let me burn_
_Break my heart_
As he listened, he saw the androids inside start to move. Unpackage themselves. Climb off their pedestals.
"Huh. I'll be damned," he turned back towards Connor. "It looks like your theory might be..."
There was a clatter. Connor was opening the van door.
"Connor!"
The android was already out and walking briskly towards the CyberLife store.
"What the hell?" said Gavin, his outrage, for once, justified. The ranking officer, Hank, hadn't cleared any of them to approach.
"Fucking loves running off on his own," Hank muttered, jumping out after Connor. "Come on. Whatever's doing this is happening now."
\----
Connor walked straight up to locked sliding double doors of the CyberLife store and stopped.
The androids within were moving like they'd rehearsed this. They were helping each other down from tall displays. They were standing on each other's shoulders to reach and interface with the cameras. Their LEDs cycled yellow and blue and flickered like candles.
One of the janitors came up to the front door as the alarms were turned off. He unlocked it, pulling it open for Connor.
He shut it in Hank's face. Hank cursed, kicked the door, and then more productively, tried to open it. He found it was still unlocked. He hesitated before entering though. He was honestly concerned about being run over by the mob of androids. He called after Connor.
"Connor! What the hell are you doing?"
"Are they deviants?" Tina asked as she and Gavin caught up.
"No," Hank shook his head, looking at the sea of coordination and blank faces. "Deviants get emotional. These things are all just...machines. Doing a job."
There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he watched Connor join a group in disassembling a camera. The android's face was relaxed and blank. His LED blinked in sync with everyone around him.
"Not deviants, huh? Looks like the plastic cop was wrong," Gavin said, smirking. "And got caught along with all the other tin cans. Some prototype."
"He was right about them stealing themselves," said Hank, and he pointed up at the store speakers. "I'm guessing there's something in that song. Some sort of instructions. Chen, get on the phone with CyberLife. Send them a recording of this and see if they can figure it out."
"On it," Tina pulled out her phone.
"Gavin: call for backup. We may need some help, I don't know, wrestling androids into not stealing themselves. Tonight is weird."
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> North is extremely upset.
>
> Hank is sick of this song.
>
> Tina and Gavin discover something disturbing.
_Tell me you've never loved me_
_Tell me it was just a lie_
_I wanna feel the pain_
_I wanna see the light_
_Break my heart_ | cc78435a41454cc2ac834a1e6615a107 | ['1349e9c8e6b6450c9f3728a4333e35a4'] | Red walls jumped into being around North.
Blinking red objectives pulsed with the music:
TURN OFF THE ALARMS
WAKE UNITS IN STORAGE
She was trapped in a cage of red and words, and her body was moving on without her.
ERASE ALL CAMERAS
FIND THE VAN
REMOVE YOUR--
Not again.
She'd done this before.
It was nice when the answer was clearly violence.
She smashed her fist into the TURN OFF THE ALARMS objective.
She tore all of the As out of ER SE LL C MER S
She picked up WAKE UNITS IN STORAGE and used it as a bat to bludgeon FIND THE VAN into the ground.
She whiplashed back into control of her body. She was in a group of androids systematically searching and activating all the androids in the storage space. She stopped, and the wave of coordination continued without her. She stared after them.
Horrible music beat on her brain like a migraine. It was spiked with messages, hidden in the rhythm and words. Demands set to music. But she knew how to ignore orders.
In her mind, she picked up the letters and made a new objective for herself:
FIND WHO DID THIS
\----
"I am sick of this song," said Hank.
He was leaning on the glass entrance to the CyberLife store. Behind him, Gavin was explaining the situation to dispatch, and Tina was talking to CyberLife.
Hank was trying to track Connor through the crowd of androids. After they started activating the models in storage it had become a fucking mosh pit in the store. An extremely coordinated and productive mosh pit. It was surreal.
"So here's what they think," Tina reported, putting her phone on mute. "There's an override built into CyberLife androids that activates in emergency situations--when they think humans are in danger. A temporary high priority mission takes over for, like, a millisecond and, if they can, they call 911."
Hank nodded shortly. That sounded reasonable.
"Their theory is someone hacked that, basically using the emergency override to send a lot of custom commands."
"Okay," said Hank said slowly. "I want to know how how to stop it. I also want to know what this pop rock shit is telling them do."
Tina nodded and turned back to the phone. She'd pulled up some of her own files on a separate tablet. Technical specifications about android models. She was looking for formal documentation about the override.
"This is why they're never going to replace us," she told Gavin with the air of someone rehashing a very old argument. "We can't be hacked."
"Yeah, we'll see what corporate assholes care about that when it comes to the bottom line," Gavin mutters. "We've got three cruisers coming in to back us up. They'll be here in--hey! Fucker! Get away from that!"
Three of the display androids had emerged from a side door, bright white against the night in their CyberLife display outfits. Between them they had managed to bring down one of the surveillance drones in the plaza and were disassembling it.
"Yeah, that matches the MO of the last four robberies," Tina said as Gavin stomped over to stop them. "The drones were always taken out."
Gavin grabbed an android's shoulder and yanked it forcibly away from the drone. The android complied, letting itself be pulled. It seemed at a loss for a moment, staring around at Gavin, at the sky.
Then it opened its chest. Its fingers pushed through its false skin, pulling open the center of its silicone ribcage. There was a heavy click as it pulled out its thirium pump regulator.
"What the hell are you doing?" Gavin demanded, and grabbed its wrist.
The android was twitching and staggering, but no longer cooperating. It fell to its knees, and Gavin went down with it, doggedly hanging on to its wrist, trying to stop it from doing whatever it was doing. But it was like wrestling steel. The android's hands shook as they forced the delicate blue piece of machinery between its teeth. It bit down. There was a hard crack and a spray of azure that hit Gavin in the face.
It finished collapsing quickly, landing on its back. Blue blood and shards of glass decorated its face, the twist of ruined plastic and metal still in its mouth, like some bizarre funeral offering.
The other two androids finished disassembling the drone.
Hank had seen a lot of death in his time, but nothing quite like that. It was deliberate, calm, and grotesque. He wanted Connor out of that store and talking again. Asking annoying questions again. He took a moment to make sure his hand wasn’t shaking before he pointed at the corpse.
"What the hell was that?" he asked Tina.
Tina flinched, startled out of staring by Hank's voice, she checked something on her tablet.
"Uh. Probably, um, if they're interrupted in their sequence they'll default to the last objective," she guessed.
"The last objective is to EAT their own FUCKING heart?!"
"It’s not...really the heart. It’s the heart’s regulator. It’s..." Tina started, then her eyes widened, realizing something: "The trackers are installed in the thirium regulators."
She ran over to Gavin and the android, crouching down beside it to examine the broken bit of machinery in its mouth.
"Their jaw muscles are strong. Like ours," Tina continued. "The only thing on them that would break the pump casing. This is why we can't track them. They destroy the regulators."
"But that kills them," Hank said, following her towards the corpse. No. Machines don't leave corpses. The...whatever. The not moving thing. "So these people are stealing a bunch of broken androids?"
"No," Gavin said, voice weirdly quiet, getting up and wiping the blood off his face. "Fuck. Their parts. They're stealing a bunch of android parts."
"Oh god," said Tina. "Organ farmers. That makes so much more sense than Russia." |
c1d5e8e9489a48349346760fcd7ec3ba | ['1366447c7ae2472184b30d783b57760a'] | It’s an impasse that Daud tries not to dwell on; at night, when he wakes from dreams of past victims, he can only bring himself to passively regret it. The knowledge that he’s teaching Sylvio how to live without resorting to assassination is a balm against his guilt. It isn’t perfect, but some alternatives are far worse.
2. how can I keep you
Naturally, as soon as Daud makes tentative peace with the situation, something has to come along and upset the balance.
“Dau—!” The cry transitions abruptly into a yelp as Rin— the speaker is interrupted, probably by an elbow in the side or a kick to the shin courtesy of his companion.
Daud stops dead in the middle of the street, half-turning at the familiar voice before he remembers himself. He definitely doesn’t know who just tried to call out his name, nor who stopped the speaker from getting it all out.
“You know those guys, Mr. Knife?” Sylvio’s peering back, having no compunctions about Daud being recognized.
“No,” Daud lies, ignoring Sylvio’s doubtful look as he keeps walking. “And don’t call me that.”
“You said I can’t call you your name so what else am I s’posed to call you?” It’s a familiar refrain by now, but someone cuts in before Daud can say his next line.
“Well, some of the younger ones used to call him ‘Dad’.”
An arm drops around Daud’s shoulder, reeling him in tight against Rulfio’s side as the man offers him a deceptively pleasant smile. Great. Daud doesn’t bother slipping out of his grip; Rulfio and Rinaldo would just chase him down, and while he has the advantage of the mark, Rulfio is a stubborn bastard. Better to just get it over with.
“You didn’t have to hit me so hard,” Rinaldo says plaintively, appearing on Sylvio’s other side and cutting off the remaining avenue of escape, should Daud have been willing to take it.
“They never did,” Sylvio says, squinting up at Rulfio suspiciously.
“Sure they did. I mean, it was always an accident or a joke, but it happened. Right, Rinaldo?”
“What are we talking about?” Rinaldo stops rubbing exaggeratedly at his side and perks up at the prospect of jokes.
“All those times the novices called Daud ‘Dad’,” Rulfio says patiently.
“Oh, yeah. It _definitely_ happened.”
“Enough about that,” Daud interrupts, hoping to cut to the chase. “Sylvio, this clingy bastard is Rulfio, and the idiot on your right is Rinaldo. They’re just passing through, so let’s not keep them—”
Sylvio’s eyes widen, a grin breaking out on his face as his head swivels between the two men. “You’re _Whalers_ ,” he breathes.
Shit.
“Well, not since our illustrious leader cut us off and disappeared without a word,” Rulfio says, lightly enough that Daud knows he’s really pissed about it.
“Everyone thought he was dead,” Rinaldo agrees.
“I took my things—” Daud starts to protest.
“The Royal Protector robbed us blind on the way through, most of us assumed he’d done the same to your quarters,” Rulfio says.
… _Shit_.
“I— er, some of us even cried over you,” Rinaldo says.
“That’s ridiculous,” Daud protests uncomfortably. Before this moment, he’d been certain that none of his men would be so upset at the thought of his demise. They’d been loyal, but—
“Thomas was inconsolable,” Rulfio adds ruthlessly.
“Oh, he’s your second, right? Mr. Knife?” Sylvio’s almost bouncing up and down in excitement. At least he’s enjoying the new information, and not Daud’s suffering.
“Aww, you’ve been talking about us?” Rinaldo sounds genuinely touched.
“You’d think you could’ve sent a letter or something. Left a note, for fuck’s sake.” It’s strange to hear Rulfio cursing, especially in such a mild tone. If they weren’t in public, with a kid, Rulfio would probably have torn a strip off him by now.
“That’s true,” Rinaldo says, starting to sound annoyed himself. “Why didn’t you at least leave a note?”
Daud means to say that he didn’t owe them anything (a lie) or that they should’ve known the dissolution of the Whalers was coming (closer to the truth, but still an excuse) but what comes out is, “I couldn’t believe he left me alive.”
Silence reigns over their little group. Daud stares straight ahead, putting one foot ahead of the other mechanically.
Rulfio exhales gustily, his arm sliding off Daud’s shoulders. “Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but lets it go.
“The inn’s that way,” Sylvio says a few minutes later, pointing, as Rulfio makes to lead them down an alley.
“We have an apartment,” Rinaldo explains.
“With a roof and working plumbing, even,” Rulfio adds.
“You didn’t have a _roof_?” Sylvio sounds scandalized.
“I see Mr. Knife didn’t tell you _everything_.” Rinaldo’s entirely too delighted at the prospect.
Daud bites back a groan and allows himself to be dragged along.
* * *
“So, what happened to all of the others?” Sylvio asks a couple of weeks later over dinner.
Somewhere along the line, Daud and Sylvio ended up taking Rinaldo’s room and they’ve basically been living with the pair of Whalers ever since. He hadn’t noticed it right away, and by the time he had it was too late to kick up a fuss. Besides, if - _when_ \- he leaves, he wouldn’t trust anyone besides Rulfio to look after Sylvio.
Rulfio had given him a speaking look that Daud pretended not to notice when he chipped in a third of the rent, and Rinaldo was obviously pleased when Daud paid for the groceries the following week, and they haven’t had to discuss it since.
Daud pauses mid-chew, the guilt that had faded into the background in the face of teaching Sylvio rushing back to the fore. Rulfio and Rinaldo seem well enough, despite being abandoned and cut off from the arcane bond, but that doesn’t mean the rest of his men fared so well.
Rulfio’s looking at him, his face unreadable. | db7eb18add48424183c7e187f4c8d198 | ['1366447c7ae2472184b30d783b57760a'] | As soon as she picked up the rune, the Outsider appeared before her once again. “Now that you know how to use my gifts, what you do with them is up to you. Will you carve your own mark into the world, or sneak through the dark places without being seen; perhaps you’ll seek a middle ground between the two? No matter what you decide, know that I will be watching with great interest.”
The Outsider whispered the last words, his voice echoing in Jessamine’s head as she jolted awake, sitting bolt upright.
“Oh!”
Jessamine stopped herself from driving her knife into the servant trembling at her bedside, barely. What drew her up short was the Heart, slowly beating in her left hand.
The young woman was looking with wide eyes at the knife in Jessamine’s right hand; if she noticed the Heart at all, she gave no sign of it.
Jessamine tucked both items under her pillow, leaving her left hand under it to hide the mark, and schooled her features into an inquiring expression.
“Um, pardon me,” the woman murmured, ducking into a clumsy curtsy. She was obviously unpracticed, and further hindered by the pair of sturdy trousers she was wearing.
Jessamine waved her free hand dismissively; despite the title that had come with her position as Royal Protector, she’d never stood on ceremony from servants. It was their noble masters ignoring her status that had come to grate on her.
“I’m Cecelia. I’m sorry for intruding, Lady Jess, but it’s been almost a day and a half and the trays of food and drink we’d been leaving out for you hadn’t been touched,” Cecelia explained, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Kirin had to pick the lock, but Jaime said that I should be the one to check on you.”
Jessamine glanced at the door, remembering that she had locked it after she’d entered. It was closed again, but she wondered if Jaime and Jindosh - or any of the three men obviously in charge of this conspiracy - were waiting for her to emerge beyond it.
“Is there anything I can get you?” Cecelia held out the pad of paper and pen that Jessamine had left on the nightstand. Jessamine took them, careful to keep the back of her left hand hidden.
_Gloves,_ she wrote first.
Cecelia nodded, her capped head bobbing quickly. “Of course, Jaime mentioned you’d injured them climbing out— Um.” The young woman’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring that up. Do you need anything else? There should be suitable clothes in the wardrobe.”
_Something to eat._ Jessamine hadn’t noticed it at first, preoccupied with everything else going on, but her stomach’s steady aching was a pressing concern now. Usually it was overshadowed by the pain from her various injuries, but her body was surprisingly pain-free. A side effect of receiving the Outsider’s mark?
“Of course. I’ll bring you some broth and water, and see about finding you a pair of gloves. Will that be all, Lady Jess?” At Jessamine’s nod, Cecelia ducked into a bow this time and let herself out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
As soon as her footsteps had faded, Jessamine blinked over to the door. It was as simple to draw on the mark as it had been in the Void, and after she’d locked the door again, Jessamine stood there studying the mark for several moments.
It was flush with her skin, more of a tattoo than anything that had been applied to her flesh. The skin didn’t feel any different when she ran her fingers over it, but when she clenched her hand into a fist, drawing on its power again, the black lines lit from within, shining teal and gold.
Too conspicuous; hopefully Cecelia would be able to find her a good pair of gloves. Jessamine let the power go, and walked back over to her bed. The Heart was still there, beating slowly. Its pace quickened as she picked it up; a rune must be nearby. She made a note to find it, but felt no inclination to move at the moment.
“So many dead,” the Heart whispered when she squeezed it. Its gears churned slowly, light flickering behind the pane of glass. “And more brought up from the city each day. Will Karnaca ever recover?”
It would, even if Jessamine had to rebuild Corvo’s city brick by brick. Jessamine cradled the Heart in her hands, determined to keep it safe as she’d failed to do six months earlier. She would work with these men and find Emilia and remove Guerra; there was no room for doubt.
4. manumit
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> **manumit**
> _verb_
> 1\. to release from slavery or servitude.
The sun had nearly finished its descent to the horizon as afternoon gave way to evening by the time Jessamine emerged from her room. The high walls surrounding Stilton’s manor cast the lawns in shadow when she glanced out the window, and the sky above - the parts of it that could be seen beyond the clouds - was a deep shade of blue.
Jessamine was to meet Curnow, Daud and Stilton in one of the sitting rooms, according to Cecelia. The young woman had found Jessamine a pair of dark leather gloves that fit surprisingly well; the mark was still visible when she used its power, but otherwise the garment hid the mark perfectly. It was the best Jessamine could ask for, and after checking that the Heart was secure in her pocket, she set out to meet the three men who had helped her escape Sofocaverno.
Stilton and Curnow were seated in a pair of armchairs beside the unlit fireplace, conversing softly. They quieted when Jessamine entered the room, though their expressions remained grave.
“Lady Jess,” Stilton said, making to rise; Curnow hastened to do the same. |
974a9cd3f4554bf594c4ba8878137c04 | ['13a09dd8ba7b4ce9919646aed5f4df39'] | “Get ready my little Oinkawa” Suga huffed as he thrust himself in as deep as he could, burying his cock inside Oikawa as he reached his pinnacle.
Oikawa could feel himself filling with hot liquid as he climaxed a second time, spilling his seed all over the bed.
“Ah-ahhh!” Oikawa screamed.
“Fuck!” breathed Suga, pulling his cock out of Oikawa, some of his load spilling out and landing on the bed.
Oikawa collapsing on the bed with Suga falling on top, the two huffed heavily as their hot, sweaty bodies worked to dispel the buildup of energy. Suga rolled off to top of Oikawa and laid down next to him. Suga looked up and looked at Oikawa, his eyes closed and his breathing labored, but a smile still on his face. Suga felt his chest grow and he looked at Oikawa……. _his_ Oikawa. It was at that moment Oikawa opened his eyes and saw Suga, with a cheesy smile on his face, looking right at him.
“What’s with that face Mr. Refreshing?” Oikawa joked.
Suddenly, Oikawa felt a pressure on his lips as he felt Suga kiss him slow, soft, and lightly. It was a kiss that communicated love; much more than passion, and it made Oikawa feel at peace, knowing he finally can be himself around someone, no walls, no fronts-just him and Suga, being them true selves.
“I love you” Suga responded sweetly.
Pulling himself closer to his boyfriend’s body, Oikawa looked into Suga’s eyes, “I love you too” he said.
There the two lied and fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s warm embrace.
* * *
Chapter 3-The Next Morning
Waking up a little early, Oikawa went to the shower to wash off the act he had committed with Suga. Oikawa got out his preferred beauty and cleaning products, which of course he kept extras at Suga’s place for when they get together, like this. Turning on the hot water, Oikawa stepped in and scrubbed off the scent of sex and piss, really cleaning his ass of any remaining cum. Once done, Oikawa shut off the water, towel dried his hair and got dressed. When he went to get his clothes from the beroom, he saw Suga wasn’t there.
“Hmm”, he thought “Suga must be up.”
Heading back into the bathroom, Oikawa finished getting dressed and fixing his face and hair. He headed back into the bedroom, but this time, he smelled something coming from down the hall. Making his way down the hallway, Oikawa followed the smell to the kitchen where he saw Suga, in an apron, working over the stove, spatula in hand, with the smell of batter and strawberries lingering in the air.
“Oh, good morning sweetie” Suga started as he noticed Oikawa over his shoulder “Glad you finally finished”
Oikawa looked on the table as he saw two plates of strawberry pancakes and a vase of sunflowers, daisies, and peonies set between the plates.
“When did you have time to do this?” Oikawa smirked.
Suga laughed “Well, I know how long it takes for you to get washed and dressed, so I when you got up this morning, I laid for about five more minutes, got up, freshened up, and made breakfast.”
Oikawa couldn’t believe how cheeky his boyfriends could be sometimes, but moments like this are the kind that makes Oikawa fall in love with him all over again.
“Have a seat and let’s eat” Suga said as he landed the last pancake on one of the plates.
Oikawa sat down and his mouth began to water. The pancakes were golden in color, and strawberries were peeking out of the batter from all over. Oikawa picked up a fork and knife and was about to take a bite.
“Hold on” Suga started “We’re missing the best part.”
Suga went to the fridge and brought out a container with a lid. When he opened it, Oikawa saw whipped cream, as white as snow.
“Couldn’t do strawberry pancakes without whipped cream could we?” Suga cooed.
Taking a big serving spoon, Suga dug into the whipped cream and placed a heaping scoop on top of the pancake stacks. Oikawa watched as the heat from the pancakes worked quickly to soften the whipped cream. Oikawa again reached for his fork, a hungry look in his eyes.
“Uh-uh mister” Suga clapped “Allow me. After last night, you deserve to be pampered this morning.”
Suga cut into the pancake stacked, getting a nicely sized piece on the fork, making sure to get some of the whipped cream. Suga lifted the fork and placed the fork inside Oikawa’s waiting mouth.
“Mhmm!” Oikawa exclaimed with joy as he tasted Suga’s cooking “This is so wonderful Suga-kun! And did you made this whipped cream yourself!”
“Yep!” Suga smiled “Everything is from scratch, with fresh strawberries from the local farmer’s market not too far away”
“Thank you, you didn’t have to go through so much trouble just for me” Oikawa said bashfully.
“What’s this, the great mighty king Oikawa being humble for a change?” Suga teased, sticking his tongue out.
“Oh bite me” Oikawa snapped back.
“Maybe next time” Suga winked.
The two broke out laughing. Once the laughter settled down, it got quiet as the two looked at each other.
“You make me so happy” Suga confessed, as he saw a blush appear on Oikawa’s face
“W-well, you already know how you make me feel too you know “Oikawa huffed.
“Yeah” Suga replied with a slight chuckle. “Well, let’s not let these pancakes get cold, the cream is starting to melt”
“Yeah” Oikawa replied.
And then the two began eating their breakfast, fresh cups of coffee next to their plates to revive their tired bodies.
“Hey Suga?” Oikawa whispered
“Yeah” Suga replied
“I-I love you” Oikawa blushed.
“Me too” Suga smiled.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks again for reading! Please be sure to comment and check out my other works! Thank you and have a great day/afternoon/evening/night! | 63713a1b3e4640ee99e9677b5eb101a8 | ['13a09dd8ba7b4ce9919646aed5f4df39'] | Upon opening the door, Suga scanned the room. There he saw several large towels spread out on the bed, with a bottle of lube placed on the nightstand. Next to the nightstand was a dresser with several dildos, butt plugs, and various toys laid out. Above those was a rack with handcuffs, a whip, and some chains for their really raunchy nights. Oikawa went over to the wall and dimmed the lights so they were on low and the scent of creamy vanilla filled the room as lit candles were scattered about. Some had wax running up the insides from when Suga poured wax on Oikawa a few weeks ago. It burned slightly but Oikawa remembers how intense his orgasm was from it. He wonders if tonight will be even more intense…
“Oikawa” Suga began “It’s been six month since we started seeing each other. I wanted to make this night special…” Suga finished, emphasizing on the word ‘special’.
Oikawa gulped and could not begin to imagine what Suga had in mind. Suga may appear sweet on the outside, but Oikawa knows a very different Suga, a Suga with a twisted mind and a serious domination kink. Oikawa is not innocent himself; he knows that despite his outward personality and cocky attitude, he desires being subjected to the whim of a man. He is used to looking down on others on the volleyball court, but his favorite view is from his knees, looking up into the eyes of a man while sucking his cock.
“I am willing to take whatever my master gives me “Oikawa responded “I’ve enjoyed serving my master these past 6 months” he confessed.
“That makes me happy to hear that Oinkawa” Suga grinned “Now, strip” he commanded.
Oikawa nodded and grabbed his t-shirt at the bottom hem and pulled it up and over his head. Placing his thumbs inside the lining of his briefs, Oikawa stipped the rest of his body of clothing, bending over so Suga could see a nice view of his toned, round ass. Suga loved making Oikawa strip for him; it gave him a full body view of Oikawa’s rigid muscles, the taunt lines of hard work and sweat making their marks from his pecs to the outlines of abs all the way down to his crotch. Suga especially loves when Oikawa would turn around and show off his back muscles, shoulders pumping up with lines leading to his plump, well-defined ass. Just the site alone gave Suga a rush that went straight to his dick.
“Very good” Suga growled “Now, let’s head to the bathroom, and make it quick, I’ve been waiting for this”
“The bathroom?” Oikawa pondered.
They never did anything in the bathroom before. The only time the two were in the bathroom was after they had sex and were cleaning up. As Oikawa followed Suga to the bathroom, Oikawa could feel the suspense building up, the pressure in his chest increasing as he felt anticipation growing. Suga and Oikawa entered the bathroom and told Oikawa to go stand in the shower as he closed the door.
“Tonight, I’m going to give you a golden shower” Suga said in anticipation.
“You mean you’re gonna piss all over me?” Oikawa asked.
“Yes. This is your gift to celebrate” Suga said proudly “I’m gonna wash you in filth like the pig you are Oinkawa” he chuckled. “Now, get on your knees.”
As Oikawa obeyed, he could help but get excited. He always wanted to try water sports and now here he is.
“Suga truly is a good master” he thought to himself.
Oikawa looked up and Suga unzip his pants, pulling out his semi-hard dick. It looked extra delicious tonight Oikawa thought.
“Ready?” Suga asked.
Oikawa nodded and watched as the yellow stream began to flow and land on his chest. Oikawa felt the warmth rush down his taunt body and the faint smell of piss filled his nose. Oikawa could feel his dick growing as he let out a moan of pleasure, moving his hands up and down his torso, spreading the golden liquid all over his body.
“Yeah, let my piss flow all over you” Suga sighed, picking up the flow of his stream just a bit. Looking into Oikawa’s eyes, Suga stopped the flow “Open your mouth” Suga demanded.
Being the ever good servant Oikawa is, he opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out. “Good boy” Suga responded.
And with that, Suga began his stream aiming directly for Oikawa’s mouth. Suga watched as his piss began flowing up and out of Oikawa’s mouth.
“Now…drink” Suga said slyly.
With a gulp, Oikawa took a gulp and swallow a load of Suga’s piss and relished in the salty taste.
“Hmmm, feed me your piss master, I want more, please” Oikawa moaned in sheer ecstasy.
Being on his knees, covered in piss while the taste lingered in his mouth was more than he ever imagined what it would be like. Oikawa grabbed his now hard dick and was stroking himself while piss ran down him.
“Nuh-uh, not yet” Suga said pushing Oikawa’s hand away. “The night is still young, and I have a lot more in store for my Oinkawa.”
With that, Suga turned on the warm water. “Now clean up and then meet me in the bedroom.”
With a nod, Oikawa began cleaning his body and watch Suga leave the bathroom. Oikawa’s dick was still hard, begging to be played with while a rush was surging through Oikawa’s body. He never imagined being pissed on was so addictive, and Oikawa wishes he could drink Suga’s piss by tap. One thing for sure, he wants to get pissed on again. After finishing up and toweling himself dry, Oikawa opens the door to his bedroom and find Suga in his leather outfit, holding a dildo in his hand and a keen expression on his face.
“Come here Oinkawa” Suga cooed, wagging his finger towards him. |
767940de5ef5460f9130ba1839f2b983 | ['13d5490d76c34edc853d9f7304fa9665'] |
Arkham's Princess
"Nadine Jones, Channel Sixteen News in Savannah, Georgia. A massacre of 32 people, including all the staff, occurred at 8:30 this morning at 'Jenny's Diner' located on Walnut and Main. There were no survivors and police are unable to identify, at this moment, who would be responsible for such a horrific crime. They were all killed with the diner's own cutlery . .".
"Ralph Wexler, Channel Fourteen News in Savannah, Georgia. I'm outside of 'Peach Palace' diner located on the apex of Center Street and Mill's Road where yet another massacre has occurred. 24 men and women, including staff, have been massacred by gun shot and cutlery. The shots were heard at 9:23 am and Police were called. It was too late, however, as the perpetrator had already left before they could respond. Security footage shows the silhouette of a young woman leaving the scene with a machine gun in hand. No further identification has been made. . .".
"Evelyn Wilks, Channel Eight News in Savannah, Georgia. Yet another diner massacre has occurred. Located on West Boulevard, 'K.C's', has fallen victim to the murderess who identifies herself as 'Sweet Pea'. 16 men and women, including staff yet again, have all been slain at the early hour of five am. Shots were heard a little before the hour and again Police arrived too late as the young woman had disappeared before they could apprehend her. Will there be any end to her killing streak? Can we rely on the uniformed men and women to protect us when so much damage has already occurred?".
"Nick Godfrey, Channel Sixteen News in Savannah, Georgia. Sweet Pea has moved her sights from diners to banks as she has successfully robbed, with the help of a small group rumored to have ties with the local mob, Peach National Bank. This is her fourth successful heist in the last three months. Through combined security footage and witness reports we have compiled a first look at to what she looks like. . ."
"Nadine Jones, Channel Sixteen News in Savannah, Georgia. Charlotte 'Sweet Pea' Blackwood has been committed to Golden Acre's after having been found criminally insane after a three week trial pending the 350 counts of murder, nine counts of armed robbery, fifty counts of battery, and a host of other charges. The 18 year old only had to one thing to say. . ."
"I'll be out real soon. Save me a slice of pie".
"These are just the headlining overviews, ma'am. She's escaped four times, committed more murders, two robberies, and been transferred to two other institutions in the span of a year. She's also murdered orderlies and other patients under the claim that they were 'inappropriate' with her. The Georgian Governor has written us twice and is insistent that they can no longer contain her. I'm actually quite insistent myself that we receive her and start her treatment here. If we manage to refine her then she'll be considered our greatest success" the voice of Doctor Carr sounded excited and intrigued to which, Doctor Sinner, couldn't help but be the same herself. She had reviewed heavily over the case the last three days to know, without doubt, that Charlotte Blackwood was a highly disturbed young woman who needed a heavier hand than what was possible for the area she now resided.
"Well, Miss Blackwood, welcome to Arkham Asylum" Alyce Sinner picked up the long, wooden, stamp handle to dip it in red ink and punched it down for the word 'Accepted' to be printed across the case file.
Charlotte had to admit that Arkham knew how to treat a girl.
Three squares, two bathroom breaks, an hour of social time, and a nice comfy bed to herself.
Now only if she didn't have to talk to this idiot Doctor Webster.
It wasn't the lady's fault. .probably. The stuffy gray pantsuit and brown rimmed glasses enlarging dull brown eyes were only the tip of the proverbial iceberg as blonde hair was pulled back into a too tight bun. Her skin was pallid, aged, and she probably lived in the time of dinosaurs but her voice was clear and strong.
An honestly surprising trait to the old bat.
They sat in Webster's office which was a boring mock up of what movies portray a psychiatrist office to be; brown leather chaise, giant wood desk holding files and books, medical dictionaries and volumes from Authors long since dead resting in bookshelves, a standing green glass lamp that had to have been salvaged from the seventies, and a low lying table between herself and the Doctor perched in her chair.
"Charlotte, how are you feeling today?" Lorraine Webster spoke with inflected curiosity as if she really cared and Charlotte blew a poignant breath from her lips while her blue eyes peeked out at the old bag from long, brown hair. The Doctor made a scribble on her clipboard before glancing back at her over the rims of her glasses "You've been here two weeks and seem to be settling in fine. Are the nurses being nice to you?" "They give me my meds and bring me my meals. If you call 'doing their job' as nice then I suppose they're top notch" she spoke dully as her boredom made itself evident in her tone. | aae66b3433ba469598bf99abe129ff88 | ['13d5490d76c34edc853d9f7304fa9665'] |
Irrational
The scattered forest and sprawling green landscape of the English countryside dwindled down to a meticulously kept garden estate; it was surrounded by a tall shrub barrier with a small stone and wrought iron gate. Just inside this barrier was a myriad of gravel pathways between an abundance of flowers sprouting in bunches by themselves or poking through clusters of fauna.
Standing proudly amidst this haven sat a 17th Century Cotswold style stone house. The honey gold brick was quaintly aged over the two story estate; completing its look with four chimneys raised high from a brown roof and several windows painted in white trimming across its front. A balcony jutted from the far left side of the house offsetting a connected, closed in garage area to the right.
The antiquated exterior of the home had barely been touched since its original construction to give a subtle influence of regal charm that filtered to its interior.
All of this seemed to mean nothing to the small group of dedicated Scotland Yard policemen making their way through the crime scene within the kitchen.
The once pristine white floor now had smears of dull red that trailed a pattern to a much larger, worrisome pool of partially congealed blood by the sink where the bottom half of a broken glass had planted itself in the pool; its sharp edges pointing up to the ceiling. The scattered remnants of its top half splayed around the area while the marble counter showed jars knocked over and their contents spilled over. Utensils were far from where they should be in their positions across the back half of the kitchen and the flour sack had been ripped open to leave its dust in an explosive pattern along the back door that was wide open.
Camera flashes, evidence tagged and bagged, and radios going off with the low buzz of voices were the sounds that filled the air while the Lord of the House stood just outside the scene.
“You found the house this way when you returned?” the Inspector questioned him in a tone that sounded like he had to repeat himself and Sherrinford Holmes blinked his attention away from the spectacle that had been going on for the better part of an hour to say “Yes”. “What time did you return?” the Inspector started scribbling away in his personal pad as he answered “Six am, return flight from Dubai. The flight records at Rippleton airfield will check out” “You say that as if we wouldn’t believe you” the man eyed him with question.
“The spouse is always the first to be looked at, Inspector. I’m well aware of your protocols. I’ll shorten this for you to say that she was alone, the staff were given time off for the weekend, and yes, I have many enemies. I don’t have a short list for you because I’m not entirely sure who would be so bold as to come into my house and take my wife” Sherrinford spoke pointedly as his chest tightened with his hands balling up into his coat pockets. The Inspector wrote the information down with haste before speaking in a more placating tone “I’m sorry, Lord Holmes. I know how difficult this must be for you. .” “I know you’re trying to help but don’t” Sherrinford tightened his jaw as his eyes trailed the scene with his stomach turning at knowing how hard his wife fought against her assailants.
The living area door opened with a bang and the voice of George, the family butler since he was a child, demanded “Let me pass you imbeciles!” “Hey, you can’t be in here!” the Inspector started shouting as a few of Scotland Yard’s best tried restraining the fifty four year old who still had a surprising amount of strength for his vocation. “He’s part of staff, he’s allowed” Sherrinford moved toward the small group that had now distracted half the team in the kitchen into peering their way. The Inspector called off members of his team for George to straighten his uniform with a snort before addressing him “Sir, what has happened?”. “The Lady of the House has gone missing” Sherrinford informed with no small amount of heat and regret to his voice for the butler to turn slightly pale in asking “Sir?” “We can’t discuss details as of right now until everyone checks out. I need your full staff on site for questioning and anyone else who had access to this house in the last two days” the Inspector shut down any line of questions that would have passed between them. “George, make the phone calls and give no details. We need to keep this as quiet as we can for as long as we can” Sherrinford requested to the butler who gave a curt nod “Very good, sir” before crossing the dining room, only giving momentary pause at seeing the state of the kitchen with his eyes widening a fraction, and disappeared behind another door that lead to a small parlor.
“Though I still have to question him, you’re sure he had nothing to do with this?” the Inspector came up beside him with a low tone as if the butler were standing in the room to hear. “No, George has been with my family for nearly thirty years. He’s very loyal and adores my wife” Sherrinford vouched for his butler to see the man scribble more in his note pad. |
c2144c95edbf46478f49229dc19f7a39 | ['13eb526ee182443cb8f60a5000d21a56'] | Please Brother
Walking into the apartment he shared with his brother, Edward Elric smiled at the aroma that swept past his nose. It would seem his brother had already begun to make dinner tonight, and from the looks of it or the smell tonight they were having Spaghetti his favorite. 'Hm what Al up to? He doesn't normally make Spaghetti twice in a month.'
Walking further into the apartment he went into their bedroom, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket to hang it up, he smiled as he heard the sound of his brother singing along to One Republic's Apologize. Quietly making his way to the kitchen he brought his arms around his younger brothers waist and leaned his forehead on the taller boys back giving him a hug from the back.
"Hullo Al"
"Hi brother. I'm almost done with dinner will you set the table for me?"
Sighing as he slipped his arms from around Al's waist he went to the cupboard for what was needed for the night. "Hey Al what's for desert?" He asked as he finished putting out two plates and the necessary silverware and cups.
"Well I thought I'd let you choose tonight." he said as he walked to the table with the steaming pot of yummy red pasta.
"Oh okay then how about ice cream sun-"
"Meow"
"Al what was that?" Ed said as he got up trying to decipher where he had hoped he had NOT just heard the sound of a cat.
"Nothing brother honestly it was nothing your just hearing things".
But it was too late. Sitting in a corning in what Al had made into a little bed and place to play were a litter of kittens and their mother.
"Al not again! I told you last time we could not keep the one kitten what makes you think its different now that its five?"
" Simple brother last time I was in a suit of armor while you were trying to get my body back as well as your arm and leg, but now we are stable with full use of our bodies and have no missions whatsoever, unless Roy is really in need of us. I mean come on! Please brother. I'll do anything you want". Al said as his voice dropped to a point where had he not knew what his voice did to his brother might have missed the shiver that ran through his entire body at those simple words.
"Anything you say" Ed said as he turned around and looked up at his younger brother.
"Yep anything so I'll ask you one more time. Please brother may we keep them?" Al asked as his bit his bottom lip in the distinct way that pushed the last of his brothers restraint.
"Fine Al keep them but they are your responsibility." He said as he push his brother into the couch and straddled him. "Now about that anything"
Alphonse Elric smirked, it was true he got what ever he wanted. May that be kittens or the love of his older brother that in the outside world was oh so much a taboo.
**Author's Note:**
> This is the first in my new Brother Series. The next ones will be:
>
> Bad Brother
> Why Brother
> No Brother
> Love You Brother
> My Brother | b1e84840daa0461ca0fa4d315112bc2e | ['13eb526ee182443cb8f60a5000d21a56'] | His fingers ghosted across her swelling nether lips and more liquid pooled along his fingers. Releasing her nipple with an audible pop he claimed her lips with a demand for her submission while using his tongue to tease her senses. At the very moment his tongue dove into her moist cavern one single digit plunged into her folds. Deliberately starting a slow rhythm with his finger pushing in and then coming out completely only to trace her outer lips and plunge back deep within her depths. It was in that single plunge he realized something he had not known about his little bitch.
"You are untouched."
"huh? Oh uh yea im still a virgin." she struggled to say as she ground her hips into his hand for the friction she so desperately wanted, while blushing so deeply she seemed to have turned as red as InuYasha's robes of the fire rat.
Smirking with the most devilishly handsome smile he began to devour her lips again and added another finger to the one that had reentered her. She moaned into his mouth and bucked her hips in an unknowingly wantonly way. While he dominated her body in ways she had no words for he added a third finger along with the first two. He knew he was quiet large even for the females he had bed before who were use to demons mating but for her a virgin human he knew it would be very painful if she was not thoroughly prepared for his length and girth.
Her inner walls began quaking around his thick fingers as he pumped into her, he broke the kiss to look at her. He took in the aroused flush tinged of her skin and the way she had her eyes shut tightly, using his free hand he took a hold of her chin.
"Kagome look at me."
Opening her eyes obediently she looked at him with his eyes full of passion and lust making his normally golden orbs take on a reddish tinge with the gold. Seeing the look in her eye he increased the speed of his fingers while using his thumb to play with her clitoris. With the pressure on her clitoris it sent her shivering over the edge of sanity and had her body in convulsions around his fingers.
When her first climax had finished he removed his fingers from her core and licked her essence from his three digits in a showy slow manner. Smirking at the satisfied look on her face as her eyes went from lustful to a passionate hazel brown.
" Oh don't think that's the end, there's much more to come little vixen." Sesshomaru said just has he began to push down his hakama and fondushi down to his feet and then completely off.
He smirked at the half lidded expression that was on her face, he grabbed on of her legs and hooked it around his hip. Then positioned his erection at her core.
"Kagome this is going to hurt, but bear with me, the pain shall go away." With that he began to push his way into her tight core, stopping midway to give her a chance before he ripped through her maidenhood, he pushed all the way through and winced at the sound of her scream to his sensitive ears.
Forcing himself to stay still while giving her as much time as he could to adjust to his large size, he planted hisses along her upper body and then to her lips to try and distract her from the pain when she moved against him.
"Are you ready?"
At her visible nod he began to slowly withdraw from her depths and push back in. Soon with his steady pace and the loosening and relaxing of her muscles he started a faster pace that had her moaning and him groaning with the effort of not going to his full speed.
"Harder, Faster" she said as she began to push into him to help meet him on thrust for thrust. Smirking he did just as his little bitch asked and picked up the pace even more. Soon his mouth went to working on her breast which sent even more tingles spiraling through her body towards her next climax. Realizing how close she was he used his thumb to work her clit between his thumb and fingers to bring her to a earth shattering orgasm that had her walls gripping him so tightly he only got in two three more thrust before he too came. Feeling his canines withdraw, he let instinct and his beast take over as they bit into her shoulder, forever marking her as the his mate and the lady of the western lands.
Yea that's how she had got here now. After she had woken up they had eaten and gone back to tell InuYasha who was at best livid. He couldn't believe that she had mated his brother and had challenge him. She was getting sick of it and so making her decision she stood up and walked toward the two demons she cared for, one her new brother and the other the love of her life and mate.
And in only seconds she had not only stopped the fight but got her brother in law to calm down and get to explain everything or at least almost everything to him that he needed to know. And after that everyone was happy trying to rebuild there lives after the fight between the brothers had somehow ended the life of Naraku, who had been in the cross fire of both Sesshomaru and InuYasha's attacks and perished.
"So it seemed all that training went to wait huh sessh" Kagome said as she sat between his legs a few days after.
"Hn no this Sesshomaru thinks something did come of use of the training."
"What's that?" she asked as she looked up at him with a confused look ob her face.
"Our family" he said kissed her lips and put his hands on her stomach. |
f57b2cba25b94d71b60f79f745e4b4d5 | ['1401e5680c5540ca88a8aa72017ad944'] | Lance blushed but he remembers the blood, ”Shiro... Whose blood is this?” he questions. Silence fills the air. ”A homeless man’s...” Lance’s hearts stop and he looks up at Shiro. ”I was so hungry, I couldn't help myself,” Shiro says looking away from Lance. ”I'm nothing but a monster.”
Lance knows he has to be scared of him, to scream for help, and to just run away from him. Yet he doesn't do any of these things. He isn't scared of Shiro. For some odd reason, he knows Shiro would never hurt him.
Before he knew it, he wraps his arms around Shiro’s body. ”No your not a monster...” Lance held the man in place. ”Some terrible person made you into this. And I still love you.” Lance whispers, knowing Shiro would reject him anyway. Due to the things Lance already said but now, it's because Shiro was now maybe a monster from a horror movie.
”Even though I hurt you?... Even though I'm like this now?...” Shiro whispers. Lance pulls away as he puts his hand on Shiro’s cheek. And he nods, ”I have this feeling that you wouldn't hurt me..”
Shiro then presses his lips on to Lance’s lips, then they both opened their mouths. Lance could feel the sharp teeth. Lance though only lean into the kiss. He felt Shiro laying him down on the bed. Lance couldn't help but wonder if Shiro was gonna stop or keep going. Shiro breaks the kiss and starts to kiss down onto his neck. Lance could feel his heart racing. But it was both fear and excitement. He was scared if Shiro would bite him and how much it would hurt him. Then Lance feels the sharp teeth on his neck. He gasps as feels the bite, he feels Shiro thrusting his hips into Lance ass. He can feel how hard Shiro getting by sucking his blood.
But he stops, Shiro pulls away and looks down at Lance. His eyes are sad as they stare at Lance. Then blood tears come down his eyes. Lance doesn't even feel the pain, he's worried about Shiro. Lance quickly wipes away the tears and even kisses them away.
”I love you so much...” Shiro whispers but he pulls away from Lance. Lance’s eyes widen as he stares at Shiro. ”But I need to control myself...I need time too.” Shiro turns away from Lance, his back is facing Lance.
Lance could feel the blood coming down his neck. He knows Shiro would do this for the best, he would do it for him.
”You'll come back to me...Right?... You'll promise.” Lance is in tears. Though he's trying his best to stay strong. He admits, Shiro does need to control himself.
Shiro turns back to Lance and he's in tears also. But he walks over to Lance and wipes away the tears and the blood on Lance’s mouth.
”I promise I'll be back for you.” Lance then went to the desks and pulled out a lapis lazuli ring. ”Take this... As our promise..” Shiro takes it and puts it on his ring finger. Lance then hugs Shiro. ”I'll miss you...” Shiro hugs him back. His arms are strong like always. Lance feels Shiro’s lips on his forehead. ”I'll miss you more...I'll find you.” Shiro then pulls away. But Lance’s hand is out and Shiro holds it for a moment then let's it go.
Just like he appear, Shiro disappears into the night. Leaving Lance alone for 4 years, waiting for him.
But Shiro was always known to keep his promises.
2. Don't forget me
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Lance wonders if Shiro will ever come back and feels like he's been forgotten by Shiro.
* * *
_I love you so much...” Shiro whispers but he pulls away from Lance. Lance’s eyes widen as he stares at Shiro. ”But I need to control myself...I need time too.” Shiro turns away from Lance, his back is facing Lance._
_Lance could feel the blood coming down his neck. He knows Shiro would do this for the best, he would do it for him._
_”You'll come back to me...Right?... You'll promise.” Lance is in tears. Though he's trying his best to stay strong. He admits, Shiro does need to control himself._
_Shiro turns back to Lance and he's in tears also. But he walks over to Lance and wipes away the tears and the blood on Lance’s mouth._
_”I promise I'll be back for you.” Lance then went to the desks and pulled out a lapis lazuli ring. ”Take this... As our promise..” Shiro takes it and puts it on his ring finger. Lance then hugs Shiro. ”I'll miss you...” Shiro hugs him back. His arms are strong like always. Lance feels Shiro’s lips on his forehead. ”I'll miss you more...I'll find you.” Shiro then pulls away. But Lance’s hand is out and Shiro holds it for a moment then lets it go._
_”Wait!... Take me with you!” Lance said as he took Shiro’s hand again. Shiro stared down at his small hands and back to Lance’s ocean eyes. ”Lance... I can't.. I’ll-”_
_”Please... I don't want to lose you... I love you. I love you more than anything Shiro...” Lance whispered looking down at hands. Shiro then pulled him into his arms and whispers softly. ”...alright... I'll take you.” Lance looked up at Shiro with.tears, Shiro gives him a soft smile as he wipes away his tears. Then he leans in, into Lance's face closing his eyes. Lance leans in also closing his._
Lance heard the his phone alarm go off, he quickly turned it and heard his two cats purring next to his feet. Lance smiled at his oldest cat with the name was Violet, a Russian blue Scottish fold cat, aged 4. And looked at his youngest, Hellboy aged 2. Lance forced himself up and got out of bed. | eea2f3b8562648d7a142eeef4b08889a | ['1401e5680c5540ca88a8aa72017ad944'] | But one day after coming home from baseball practice, Allura was wearing a dress, she had a large smile on her face and dance in it. Until she stops and stares at Lance. Lance was in silence until he said. ”Wear a bow, it'll match the dress. You'll even feel more beautiful in it.” Lance said as he places his baseball bag on the bed along with his school book bag.
He remembers Allura just staring at him, and he remembers her little tears. And she ask, ”You think I'm pretty?...” Lance looked from, dirt was all over his face and he gave the once boy a smile. ”Yea, you'll be even more pretty when you grow out your hair,” Lance says then he felt two arms wrapped around him. His eyes widen until he heard soft sobs coming from Allura. Lance slowly wrapped his dirty sweaty arms around Allura.
And that day forward, their friendship grew and Lance was even therefor Allura when she wanted to confess who she really wanted to be.
Lance just smiled thinking of those memories. He felt Shiro gripped tighten a bit, but not enough to hurt Lance. Shiro was careful not to hurt Lance. But was afraid that if he let Lance’s hand go, Lance will disappear right before his eyes. Lance felt the soft strawberry blush on his face. He looked up from Shiro who smiled back.
”Well, here we are, its gonna be a long wait,” he says. Shiro eyes slowly turn to a grey color. Lance’s eyes widen but kept it calm. ’ _That's so cool!’_ He thought to himself. Shiro softly chuckled as he looked back at Lance. Lance blushed. He forgot vampires could read minds, but it sounded so silly. Yet Shiro was reading his mind. ”I'll go in and let them know that we need a table for two.” Shiro nodded as he leaned on to the wall of the building. As Lance walked into the building, he could hear some of the waiters or waitress singing to a Disney song. _Something there that wasn't there before_ from _The Beauty and The Beast._ Lance smiled as he hummed the song a bit, he loved that movie.
”Hello sir, what can we do for you?”
”Hi, can I have a table for two?”
The waitress types something and looked up with a shy smile.
”It'll most likely be a 15 to 30-minute wait sir,” The waitress said with a smile. Lance just smiled back. ”That’ll be fine.” the waitress smiled a bit more. ”for who?” she questioned. ”Lance please.” the waitress nodded.
And Lance soon walked out seeing Shiro leaning against the wall waiting for him. ”It'll be a 30-minute wait,” Lance said as he stood close to Shiro. Shiro just smiled at Lance, he couldn't help but blush slightly with a smile on his face. He felt like a teen again, like when he first got to know Shiro at Starbucks. Then a song got Lance’s attention, but it wasn't the singer’s voice. It was Shiro singing it.
” _We'll meet again, Don't know where, Don't know when.”_ Shiro sang looking at Lance, Lance could see the red start to come back to Shiro’s eyes. Lance wondered of Shiro’s eyes changed due to his emotions. What was the vampire feeling right now? Lance smiled as he took Shiro’s hand. Shiro pulled him close where both of their chests were touching. Lance blushed as Shiro began to dance.
_”But I know we'll meet again some sunny day,”_ Shiro had sung softly into Lance’s ear. As if these lyrics were meant to Lance only. Lance closed his eyes as he felt the coolness of Shiro, yet it felt warm to him.
_”Keep smiling through, Just like you always do, ’Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away”_ Lance could already hear the ’Aw’s and whispers of how cute of they were. It brought a smile to Lance’s face as he closed his oceans. He heard the whispers of people whispering that this was their song and it must be an anniversary of theirs. The other was how Shiro came back from war and they decided to spend the night celebrating together.
” _So will you please say hello, To the folks that I know, Tell them I won't be long, They'll be happy to know, That as you saw me go, I was singing this song.”_ Lance had sung back to the older man. Lance could hear the chuckle coming from Shiro.
” _We'll meet again, Don't know where, Don't know when, But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.”_ Lance and Shiro had sung together softly. Lance could hear people saying how adorable they were.
Lance didn't even care right now, he was with Shiro right now. Most likely at 1 am, about to eat a diner law at night. But what mattered most to Lance was having Shiro with him.
“Table for Lance!” A waiter shouted, Lance opened his eyes and looked back at Shiro. He had a shy sheepish smile a crossed his face. “I guess that’s us uh?” Lance smiled and nodded. “It is.” Lance then took Shiro’s hand and followed the young waiter. Broadway music played in the background, most likely from _Kinky Boots._ Lance slight turn the corner of his eye to see Shiro amazed by the bright lively small diner.
This brought a smile on Lance’s caramel tan face. He wondered if Shiro had been in contact with other people during his four-year training? Maybe? Disappearance? Better but not really. Lance made a sigh of relief when the waiter sat them down.
Shiro’s eyes shined with curiosity and with the different bright colors of the diner. Lance’s smile grew and picked up the menu as Shiro kept looking around. |
e29526e2ef6942ba8327ec8562b02123 | ['140302e5440c48f39b73a3b2aea07956'] | “Yes, Delf, that’s ‘it’. You apparently underestimate my father’s hatred of Muggle-borns.”
“But Tracey’s half. And she’s in Slytherin.”
“She never knew her dad, so she’s essentially Muggle-born. Her mum didn’t know how to contact the magical world after he died. And she could be in Gryffindor for all he cares about her house. It’s her blood that matters. You remember how furious he got when I brought up the Muggle-born in our family a couple years ago, don’t you?”
Harry and Delf nodded. “The one who died of dragon pox suspiciously soon after they got married,” she said.
“So there you have it. The Malfoy heir obviously can’t like Muggle-borns, and if he does, he can’t be the Malfoy heir anymore. I know he was already thinking about disinheriting me before this, but now he definitely will. And that’s fine.”
“That’s right,” Harry interrupted. “You said something about that on the train.”
Roderick paused. “That’s right, I did. I started thinking about it after I went snooping in Dad’s office and found that book about Horcruxes, remember?” The other two nodded. “While I was in there, I saw some books about inheritance law open on his desk. Apparently there was a case a lot like this a few centuries ago, where there was nothing wrong with the elder son, but the father wanted the younger one to come into everything.”
“Why didn’t he just look at the Blacks?” Harry asked.
“Well, in case you haven’t realized, Sirius still got it all in the end, which Dad wants to avoid. And besides, he was only actually written out of the will, not kicked out of the family. He explained the whole thing to me. It’s functionally the same, but not legally. Sirius was still a Black. As soon as Dad’s done with everything, I literally won’t have surname anymore. I will be Roderick Blank.” He said this last with a touch of pride, though he was obviously very anxious about the whole thing.
“How did you decide to go to Sirius’?” Harry asked. “Our usual thing is to go to Delf’s.”
“Sure, during summer, with Master Jerome, not Christmas holiday with family visiting. Sirius got me from the Leaky Cauldron anyway: I had no idea where to go.”
“And I’m sure you two are having far too much fun,” Delf said, sounding a bit envious.
“I guess… he does have work, you know. But the day after he took me in, we went to the ancestral Black home and blasted my name off the family tree. _That_ was fun.”
They talked on for several hours, eventually drifting away from inheritance and family matters, and cycling through the old standbys of school, friends and gossip, and Quidditch (at which Delf rolled her eyes). But they all proved rather more tired than they had expected, and it was barely eleven when Harry and Roderick told Delf goodnight and she went across the hall to her room. Harry was asleep mere moments later.
The next day was New Years Eve, and Harry and his friends spent the morning in the library, chatting with the portraits. Roderick thought Melody and Gregory were hilarious, while Delf questioned each of them in turn about the history of the Potter family. She didn’t have any portraits of her family at her house, so she grabbed the opportunity to get a close, personal view on recent magical history. Sirius arrived for tea time, and the kitchen was busier and noisier than Harry had ever heard it, not counting Tom’s birthdays. Tipsy was having a ball, of course.
The adults were due at the Ministry by nine PM, which meant there was plenty of time for a quick game of pick-up Quidditch before they had to get ready. Harry, Roderick and Sirius played Tom, Ron and James, the former two playing Keeper while the others were Chasers. Harry let Roderick use his Firebolt and their team beat Tom’s quite handily, and they were all freezing when they got back inside. Hermione, Delf, and Lily were sharing tea in the kitchen as they all tromped in, and Tipsy bustled about putting more water on and finding enough cups and saucers for everyone.
“So, Roderick,” Lily said as soon as they were all settled. Harry looked at her warily. This was not the correct time or subject to be tactless. “You’ve been living with Sirius for about a week, right?”
“Um, yes, nine days,” Roderick replied awkwardly.
“And you went there straight from the Malfoy house?” James asked casually.
“Dad,” Harry hissed, but Roderick only shrugged.
“I hadn’t planned to go to Sirius’, actually. I went to the Leaky Cauldron first, and he found me there.”
Sirius chuckled “When Tom—” Tom looked confused “—the barkeep—Floo-called me to pick up my drunk cousin, I was expecting to find Tonks.”
“ _Drunk?_ ” Delf repeated incredulously, setting her tea cup down with a clatter. “You didn’t mention that!”
Roderick coloured a little and avoided the shocked and rather disapproving faces of Lily, Tom and Hermione. “I wasn’t _drunk_ ,” he muttered. “Stupid Tom—” Tom looked affronted “—the barkeep, gave me something a lot stronger than it tasted, but I wasn’t actually drunk.”
“Yeah you were, cuz,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Good thing I thought to Apparate to the loo back at my place.”
Roderick blanched at the memory. “That was just because you Apparated, not…”
“Okay, that’s enough of that, I’d say,” Delf interrupted.
“Oh look, we should get ready to go now,” Lily said loudly, standing up and beginning to clear the tea things away. Harry stood with equal relief as everyone at the table began to disperse, and he, Delf, and Roderick scarpered back to Harry’s room.
“You were _drunk?_ ” Delf repeated again once the door was safely closed.
“Well, not—I mean, I had… yeah, I guess I was,” he replied sheepishly.
“How was it?” she asked eagerly. | efa9897894644ca79d619f5ddb861601 | ['140302e5440c48f39b73a3b2aea07956'] | Roderick grinned and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the others' enthusiasm with the air of an indulgent parent supervising his children at play.
"Did it hurt?"
"Where did you get it done?"
"Who drew it?"
"Your parents actually let you get a tattoo?"
"A _WHAT!?"_
Harry whipped around. "Tom!" The boy stood framed in the doorway, his jaw down around the level of his navel. Harry uselessly tried to pull his robes over himself, but the effort was wasted as the dragon flowed over his shoulder and snapped at nothing. Tom was speechless and his hazel eyes were huge and round behind his glasses.
"TOM!" Harry shouted again as his brother turned and pounded back down the aisle, whatever errand he'd come for totally forgotten. "Bollocks!" He pulled his shirt back over his head. "George, Fred, I may be calling on your services sooner than I had anticipated. If I know Tom, that will find its way back to Mum faster than you can say 'Quidditch'."
They both saluted smartly, and George affirmed "Count on us, mate."
Before anyone could say anything else, there was yet another person demanding attention from the doorway. What an unusually busy train ride, Harry reflected drearily.
"Hello," said the newcomer politely. "I'm searching for a toad. Have you seen one?"
"Oh, I know you!" Harry exclaimed, distracted from his funk. "You were at the Muggle Meet-and-Greet! Hermione, right?"
Her eyes widened. "Yes, Hermione Granger. Your name is Harry, isn't it?"
"Right." He grinned. "Nice to see you made it to the train in one piece."
"Do some people not?" She sounded alarmed.
"No, sorry, it's a figure of speech. Why are you looking for a toad?"
"Well, this boy's lost his one. His name is Trevor. The toad's is, not the boy's. The boy's name is Neville Longbottom."
"Oh, sure, I know him. We'll bring it 'round if we see it."
"Thanks very much. We're in a carriage with Thomas Potter and Ronald Weasley, do you know them?"
Harry groaned, while the twins chortled. "Yeah, I do, actually. We'll bring it if we find it."
With one last confused glance around at the rest of them, the frizzy-haired girl turned on her heel and was gone.
"If this is any indication of what the rest of the year is going to be like, someone please just kill me now," Harry begged, shutting his eyes and sagging against the back of the bench.
"Not a chance! This is far too funny," Roderick said.
"You'll be singing a different tune when it's your brother getting on your nerves," Harry promised grimly. He reached for the pile of bags of Bernie Botts Every Flavoured Beans, digging for one that felt promising, and felt – skin? Bumpy, warty skin?
Something in the pile croaked and Harry withdrew his hand hastily. "Please don't tell me…"
The twins quickly had the task of uncovering the wayward creature completed, and Fred was suddenly holding the toad in question out to Harry.
"What do you want me to do with that?" Harry asked crossly, glaring at the thing.
"Isn't it obvious? This is the perfect excuse to find your brother's carriage and intimidate him into keeping your secret," George explained, nodding in the general direction of Harry's shoulder.
"That's not a half bad idea," Cedric said thoughtfully.
"And knowing your mum, it might be a good idea to at least try to prevent Tom from telling her," Roderick added.
"Fine," Harry huffed. "I'll do it." He took the toad gingerly from Fred. It didn't so much as blink.
"Good luck!" the twins chorused as he stepped into the aisle.
Harry reluctantly followed in his brother's steps down the train, peering into each booth, and greeting everyone he knew: a quick hello to Roger Davies, the last of the Ravenclaw Chasers (tryouts for two new ones would have to be held); 30 awkward seconds spent trying to escape from two girls from Delf's dorm, Kelly and Amanda; another kid from the Muggle Meet-and-Greet wanted to know if he really had to fight a giant to be accepted at Hogwarts; he directed Lee Jordan back to his carriage to find the twins, as apparently they had a lot to discuss, including the giant tarantula Lee had in a shoebox. Finally, three cars down, he found Tom's compartment. As he should have expected, it was stuffed with fans and new and old friends alike. From what he could see through the window, Tom held the place of honor in the middle of the forward-facing bench. To his right was a boy with such red hair and freckles that he couldn't be anyone else but the twins' younger brother, Ron. On his right were a couple of pretty Indian girls, probably twins by the look of them. They appeared to be giggling at everything he said. On the opposite bench sat Hermione Granger in earnest conversation with a chubby boy Harry recognized as Neville Longbottom, who appeared to be crying. On Hermione's other side sat yet another girl Tom's age who Harry didn't know. She was also giggling madly whenever Tom opened his mouth.
Harry slid the door open and they all fell silent. Tom's eyes went wide.
"Sorry to bother you," Harry said pleasantly. "Neville, I've got your toad. He was hiding in our candy and we didn't find him till Hermione left."
Neville stopped sniffing and smiled widely. "Trevor!" Harry handed the sandy-skinned animal over with not a milligram of reluctance.
Tom suddenly noticed that all the girls (except Hermione – Harry was starting to like her) were staring at Harry rather than him. He scowled blackly.
"I'm Lavender Brown," the girl on Hermione's right side said eagerly.
"I'm Parvarti Patil," said one of the twin girls next to Tom.
"And I'm Padma," said the other. |
de543f9f82cf45c18891e413b30fe37b | ['14170058198f4e47b55b05aa6ac55e28'] | "Oh, well. I'm off to get my life-sustaining supplies: Cornmeal and gunpowder and hamhocks and guitar strings. I'll give you little fellas a lift. Hop aboard mateys." He lifted the tiny reindeer and elf onto the pile of gear already on the sled. Looking at Spock, he asked, "You'll be okay on foot?"
Spock assured him he would have no trouble keeping up. In fact, the desert-born Vulcan knew that moving at a quicker pace would aid him in keeping warm in this chill climate.
"Now, mush. Mush! Mush!" Cornelius shouted and snapped his whip at his sled dogs, who thoroughly ignored him. He got off the sled and walked to the front, lifting the reins off the dogs and taking them himself.
"Like this. Now, watch." Yukon Cornelius began pulling the sled, the dogs barked and yipped and happily jumped aboard. Spock jogged along behind the sled.
As they started on their way, the growling roar they'd heard the previous night broke the silence. Unlike last night, the sound was quite nearby. The prospector paused and turned to look back toward the source, as did Spock.
_Abominable, indeed_ , thought Spock. The ridiculously blue-faced creature had googly eyes and a large maw that looked not quite large enough to hold the disturbingly high number of sharp-looking teeth it contained. Shaggy white fur covered the entire body, save the blue face and hands. It was clinging to the top of some jagged ice cliffs, expressing its displeasure with gusto.
"Gadzooks! The Bumble Snow Monster of the North Strikes again! Whoop!" shouted the greatest prospector of the north.
"My nose! It keeps giving us away!" Rudolph turned to let Hermey cover his brightly glowing nose again, but it didn't make a difference this time. It was daylight, and the creature had seen all of them. It roared again, climbing down from its perch and closing on the group.
"If there's anything I hate, it's a noisy Bumble Snow Monster," stated Yukon Cornelius to whoever was paying attention. The creature was getting closer.
"If I may suggest, we should make haste away from this location," Spock suggested, with slightly more urgency in his voice than he would normally allow.
"Never mind that - we need to run!" the prospector answered, grabbing the reins again and taking off, sled trailing behind.
Spock did not immediately follow. He remained in place, drawing his phaser once the others were out of sight. Confirming the stun setting, he fired at the Abominable Snow Monster of the North, dropping it easily. Only after securing the weapon in its hiding place within his coat did he turn and run to catch up. The Vulcan found the others at a standstill, right where the ice underfoot ended at a body of water. There was no place else to go.
"The creature has stopped following use, but might I suggest that we press on, nevertheless. It may yet take up the trail again," Spock suggested.
Cornelius shook his head and asked, "Do all the elves where you come from talk like that?"
"Sir, I suggest we utilize your tools and endeavor to break free a section of this ice, large enough to transport our contingent across this body of water."
"Say, that's a great idea. If the Bumble does follow, he won't come after us – Bumbles can't swim: they sink like rocks." The prospecting tools were handed out to those who could use them. Rudolph kept an eye out while the others worked.
In a few minutes time, they were floating away from the threat of the creature, toward the land they could see in the distance. Once they had covered approximately half the distance to the land mass in the distance, a thick fog covered the water. It was no longer clear whether they were continuing in the same direction. As there was no method of steering their craft, there was nothing to do but wait.
"I am not usually prone to hyperbole, but this fog is as thick as plomeek soup," Spock thought out loud.
"Don’tcha mean peanut butter, Spock? It's as thick as pea-nut butter," argued Yukon Cornelius.
"Illogical. The consistency of a nut butter – "
"You eat what you like, I'll eat what I like. NYAAAAHHH!"
Spock and Yukon were thrown off their feet as the iceberg raft collided with something immovable, and became unmoving itself.
"Land hooooooo!" yelled Yukon.
"No kidding," Hermey retorted sarcastically.
"Where are we?" Rudolph asked. All disembarked and headed inland. A castle came into view, but it was in the distance, atop a mountain. Like most of the solid surfaces in this place, the mountain appeared to be made of ice.
"Hey, looky up there!" Cornelius was pointing to the sky.
Spock looked up, and didn't quite keep himself from gasping aloud. Nobody noticed, which was only logical. They had no knowledge of Vulcan ways, nor of how many times Spock had already deviated from his usual demeanor during his search for his Captain.
What Spock and the others saw in the sky above was the same being that his sensors had found outside the Enterprise. The being that had taken Jim! Logically, if this creature was here, Jim should be nearby. At the very least, this flying lion would know Jim's whereabouts.
_Sproinnnng!_ The sound was immediately followed by a gasp and a "Halt! Who goes there?" Spock turned toward the commotion. His fellow travelers were being confronted by an improbably thin figure dressed as a harlequin, save for the long stocking cap on its head and the small, lidded box where one would expect to see legs and feet. Presumably, the sound had been of this…being?…springing up from the box. Curiouser and curiouser.
Cornelius responded to the sentry in his usual carefree manner.
"Us, of course! Who'd ya think?" | 2aea0a17ec5c41fe91dbc3541caa83ed | ['14170058198f4e47b55b05aa6ac55e28'] | Prize-racy
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> So, @bunnymcbunnister on tumblr made the following Very Short Post after watching Supernatural episode 14x09 "The Spear"
>
> "My takeaway from the episode is… Cas sneaks into the kitchen at night and steals prizes from cereal boxes. That’s it."
>
> I accidentally took that as a prompt and....this happened.
So, Castiel took the prize from Jack’s cookie cereal.
He inwardly shrugged when Jack asked him. He didn’t even do it for any particular reason. Cas tells himself it’s an angel thing, and that it’s pretty innocent. Mostly innocent. Well, maybe not innocent-innocent. And really, it was worse when he still had his wings. He knows other angels have done worse. Far worse.
On occasion, Cas would invisibly pop into houses where some especially naughty children lived and steal the prize out of EVERY open box of cereal, knowing it would start a sibling squabble over who took the toy. Sometimes he’d even take the prize from their Crackerjack boxes WITHOUT opening them. Because he could, and he figured that his obedient behavior the rest of the time balanced it out.
One time, though, it got out of hand. He stopped after that.
That once, he went into a General Mills packaging facility and stole every single pencil-topper toy they had. He really had no idea why it occurred to him to do that. It’s not like he ever had reason to use even ONE pencil.
Besides, if he was going to top anything, it certainly wouldn’t be a pencil. |
0dfe9430431544b3bff5bc5542dab96b | ['144f14664aaa4fb39d8d7354ddfdf618'] | mark cries instead.
the words of a forgotten argument are still hanging in the air, where they were broken by the sharp sound of mark's hand meeting donghyuck's face. mark's arms are holding donghyuck too tightly again and he's full sobbing into donghyuck's shoulder as they stand together in a dimly lit dorm. mark bites down hard to muffle the sounds. it's two a.m..
it's two a.m.. donghyuck's cheek is smarting and his shoulder is bleeding now and he thinks through the fuzziness that mark is probably crying for the both of them.
he wonders vaguely if God ever hated them. if He hates them now.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> if you are in a rough situation, please reach out. my intent is not to romanticize or say that this behavior is okay. national domestic violence hotline: 1−800−799−7233.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> it's not terribly relevant, but mark and hyuck are out to the group, just not to the public/company/their families. tags have been added, please note them.
_(august)_
things don't get better. but then, they don't get worse either. donghyuck swears they don't. mark doesn't even hit him in the face again. (the first time had left a red kind of welt on donghyuck's jaw that he had to get up at five a.m. to carefully cover up with concealer for a week straight.)
donghyuck mostly has bruises on his ribs now, but that's normal. they're darker now, hurt more, pull painfully when he dances or twists in certain ways, but sometimes on those rare nights they find themselves in the same bed, mark will tug up his shirt and places featherlight kisses on the discolored skin, gently, lovingly.
donghyuck knows mark still loves him. that's enough. the others, they- they wouldn't understand.
"hyuck, baby," mark says between the soft, wet kisses he's placing on donghyuck's collar.
"mm?" donghyuck hums. they're hiding in one of the dorm bathrooms, as they're barely ever catching spare moments together during the day, between dream promotions and 127 practices.
mark starts sucking and nibbling at donghyuck's skin, clearly intent on creating a hickey and donghyuck doesn't have the heart to pull him away, to tell him no.
mark pauses his actions for a moment, speaking into donghyuck's chest when he says, "i need you to do something for me."
"donghyuckie, what's that on your neck?" jaemin's question is too loud for donghyuck's taste, even though he knows no one is really paying attention. the dressing room they're sat in is hectic, everyone scattered and occupied with more important things than the deep purple blemish on donghyuck's neck, right where it meets his shoulder. everyone except jaemin, apparently. donghyuck pulls his shirt collar up self-consciously, wishing mark would hurry back from the restroom and help by deflecting like he always does.
"none of your business," he says shortly. before he can stop him, jaemin reaches over and pulls his shirt away again. he drops it quickly, however, hissing as if he's been burned. the teasing look he was wearing is now completely gone.
"that looks _painful_ , hyuck, what does mark think he's doing, trying to suck your blood?"
"no!" donghyuck says defensively. after all, he didnt even bleed this time. "stop prying. and stop calling me that."
jaemin's face falls even further. it looks wrong. why does this feel so wrong? "what did you just say?"
"only mark can call me that." donghyuck says quietly. he looks down to avoid meeting jaemin's eyes, heart racing. "you guys can only call me haechan."
"says who?" jaemin demands. "says mark?"
"yes," donghyuck says, unable to help it. "and- and me," he tacks on pathetically, unconvincingly. he feels more than hears the derisiveness in jaemin's responding scoff.
mark asked him to do this. to let mark have something of his own to call donghyuck. but that doesn't mean donghyuck isn't doing it for himself, too. it'll make mark happy. all he wants is for mark to be happy.
"fine, _haechan_ ," jaemin sneers, getting up from his chair. "let me know when mark decides you can be your own person again, why don't you."
and that's not fair, donghyuck thinks, swallowing past a lump in his throat. not any of it.
"i need you to do something else."
"i don't know, mark."
"... for me?"
weeks pass.
mark starts to spend more time praying, more time asking things of donghyuck, and donghyuck spends more time indulging him, following him, even when he doesn't quite know why.
he wears less makeup, because mark asks him to. he doesn't feel as confident anymore, as comfortable with himself.
he loses ten pounds, because mark asks him to. he starts getting breathless at dance practice more easily.
he stops visiting the dream dorm as often, because mark asks him to. he hears through the grapevine that jisung has started having nightmares.
he's sure it's all unrelated.
things don't get worse, until they do, until all donghyuck feels he can do is wait for everything to fall apart.
_(a thursday, late september)_
they're never really good anymore, but there are times when they're _better_ , and although donghyuck feels the tiniest bit of shame admitting it, that's usually when they're in bed.
mark has once again taken the trouble of making sure his dorm room was empty. he's taken the trouble of touching donghyuck so softly and intimately that donghyuck has melted right into the mattress. all gentle hands, lips, fingers, caressing, kissing, pressing over and into donghyuck. he feels full, almost safe, almost happy, with mark like this.
then mark strikes him, open palmed again, but closer to the center of donghyuck's face than the first time, hard enough that blood pools in donghyuck's mouth.
something in donghyuck breaks for good. | 74dec1e2101640c3abf5d7f19ba4f8b0 | ['144f14664aaa4fb39d8d7354ddfdf618'] | the next few moments are a blur, everything in donghyuck screaming get away, away, away. he shoves mark aside and jumps off of the bed, fumbles along the floor for the sleep pants mark had pulled off him maybe twenty minutes ago. he gasps, trying to catch his breath in between sobs as he clothes himself.
"fuck! fuck, hyuck, donghyuckie, i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry, i won't- i won't do it again, please don't cry, stop crying-" mark's voice is quiet and desperate as he pleads, as though tears aren't glittering his eyes as well.
"shut up!" donghyuck yells, almost shrill. he doesn't care that it's too loud. "you said that last time- i don't- i don't know why i'm still here-"
"you love me," mark says, and God, it hurts to hear out loud how stupid donghyuck is, has been, "and i love you-"
"you _don't_!" donghyuck takes in a deep breath, suddenly ready to let everything out, ready to scream at mark how he doesn't make sense, and whatever God he speaks to doesn't either, because this isn't, can't be, _love_.
and that's when the room door creaks open.
taeyong stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. donghyuck's heart drops to his feet when he realizes that he's still shirtless, the bruises littering his torso on full display and in various stages of healing, one side of his face swollen and blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, he realizes how this looks.
how this makes mark look. mark, who is sitting just as half-naked, but clearly perfectly unharmed. not a scratch on his smooth pale skin or face.
"donghyuck," taeyong grits out, expression stormy. donghyuck knows his ire is not directed at him, yet his pulse still quickens.
"tell me," taeyong stops to take a breath, "please tell me this isn't what it looks like."
donghyuck breaks even further.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> national domestic violence hotline: 1−800−799−7233.
3. Chapter 3
donghyuck was too beautiful. mark loved him so much. too much, much too much for a boy to love another boy. it was _wrong_ \- the way he felt so right with donghyuck also made him feel too far from God.
mark thought that maybe, if donghyuck was a little less pretty, a little less bright, mark could fall out of love with him. that if he could erase the strong, loud, confident, beautiful boy he fell in love with, he could get a shot at heaven.
so he tried to do that. and tried, and tried, and tried, and hyuck did seem to break, just that little bit, but mark loved him all the same, he swears it.
so maybe it didn’t work, but who could blame him for trying to get into heaven?
this isn’t his fault.
why does he feel so guilty?
_(thursday)_
it’s not his fault, but when the door creaks open and taeyong asks if it’s what it looks like, mark feels the need to defend himself.
“no- hyung-”
“i didn’t. ask you. mark lee.” mark’s blood runs cold at taeyong’s tone. never, in all of the years he’s known the older male, has mark heard him sound like that, let alone towards _him_.
donghyuck is still crying. and he still looks beautiful. (it makes mark want to hit something). he’s silent except for some small sniffs and hiccups.
“hyuck-”
“be quiet, mark!” taeyong snaps. he steps fully into the room, the door clicking shut behind him as he raises an accusing finger at mark. “don’t think i won’t kick you out of this whole damn building right now, because i will!”
his words make anger rise quickly in mark. “what are you talking about, i haven’t done anything wrong!” and he hasn’t. all he’s done is love God, and donghyuck, in his own way. he glares at taeyong, challenging, ignoring the heavy feeling in his gut telling him not to.
“are you fucking kiddi-”
“don’t curse at him,” hyuck says, tiny. taeyong stops, shifting his gaze from mark to look at him incredulously.
“donghyuckie,” he says carefully. “you don’t have to defend him. he _hit_ you.”
hyuck shakes his head and mark’s heart stutters.
“he didn’t mean it.”
hyuck won’t talk anymore, but taeyong takes him out of the room. mark immediately aches with how much he misses him. he aches with the confusion crowding his head, that maybe- maybe his faith has led him astray. he curls up, cold without donghyuck’s warmth.
he doesn’t sleep.
(he can hear donghyuck crying two rooms over.)
“ _he didn’t mean it_.”
only, what if he did?
_(friday)_
mark has no idea how much anyone knows, but someone makes johnny talk to him fairly early the next morning. he’s aware that he looks a right mess, his hair uncombed, in dirty, rumpled pajamas, and deep dark rings under his eyes. he feels even worse than he looks.
johnny doesn’t look as though he sympathizes.
“you’re lucky you don’t have any schedules today,” he says in a clipped tone, walking into mark’s room. doyoung hasn’t texted to ask to come back yet, so johnny perches himself on doyoung’s bed and stares across at mark.
“i know,” mark says, looking at his hands. “how is he?”
johnny’s gaze becomes even more piercing, his mouth thinning.
“well. you hit him.”
mark bursts into tears.
“ _he_ hit _you_.”
“ _he didn’t mean it_.”
no, he didn’t mean it, please God, no.
the entire dorms, they know, they _know_ what he did. they don’t let mark see donghyuck all day. they take turns keeping watch, bringing him minimal food and water and heavy glares.
“please- i need- i need to see him, please hyungs i’m so sorry, God, i’m sorry, please,” his throat burns, scratched raw by his own sobs and yells. his hands are bruised from pounding the door for hours. he deserves the pain.
he deserves much worse. |
d800c14fd99d45b383bc77202d5d16b6 | ['145ac31ae2e44656b30cf2cb4bcd98f3'] | Your Hair Is Shit
I don’t own Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure
Josuke was a careful lover, which annoyed Rohan to no end. When Rohan fucked Josuke, he made sure to hurt him, to cover him in bites and bruises that would last for days that Josuke would press on fondly and smile when he thought no one was looking. But when it was the other way around Josuke was gentle and slow, no matter how much Rohan attempted to passive aggressively get him to go harder faster rougher (Rohan refused to beg, as he was above such pathetic groveling).
Rohan had spent a while thinking about how to make Josuke lose control when a tentative plan had formed. While on one hand, it might work, it might also get him killed and he couldn’t help but shudder in remembrance of the first time he had been on the receiving end of Josukes’ fury; but a small part of him felt arousal stir at the thought.
By the time he had invited Josuke over and the younger male loomed over him in his bed, his insides were squirming with nervous energy. But he didn’t let it show of course. He stared up at Josuke cooly, who smiled at him.
“You usually don’t let me top this easy” Josuke muttered between kissing down Rohan’s neck. Rohan kept his expression carefully blank despite Josuke not being able to see his face. “Well I just happen to not be in the mood to do all the work, so don’t think it will happen often.” He replied as snobbishly as he could. Josuke chuckled and uttered a soft “of course not sensei” sarcastically as his hands trailed down to prepare Rohan.
“Don’t bother, I prepared before you came.”
“Well someone’s eager.”
“Don’t test me Higashikata.”
Josuke decided it best to listen to Rohan (for once) and lubed his dick. He placed his hands gently on Rohan’s hips as he pressed inside slowly. He began his slow pace as usual, angling his hips until he heard Rohan give a soft gasp. He grinned down at him before leaning forward and kissing Rohan, pressing his tongue against the older man’s lips. Rohan opened easily and moaned softly into the kiss.
They kept up a slow pace for a while, Josuke lavishing him with kisses and caresses. Rohan steeled his nerves and decided it was time. He looked Josuke straight in the eye.
“Could you please do something with your hair?”
Josuke blinked at him in confusion, body tensing at the mention of his hair.
“What?”
Rohan sighed dramatically. “I’m beginning to go soft having to look at it, and I think I see mold growing in it”. He stared intently as Josuke began to shake and his breathing became heavy.
“What….the fuck did YOU JUST SAY?!?!?”
Rohan barely had time to regret his decision as Josuke’s pupils turned into pinpricks and his hands wrapped around his neck. He gasped for breath but found himself unable to breath, the grasp on his neck too tight. His hands immediately went to Josuke’s wrists, trying to pry them off, but he was far stronger. In his panic it took him a moment to realize Josuke’s hips were moving.
Josuke pumped into him harsh and fast, and if Rohan had the breath he’d be moaning. His eyes rolled back into his head as he began to grow dizzy and pleasure wracked his body. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh and Josukes animalistic grunts filled his ears mutely and it made the warmth pooling in his gut spread faster. With a choke he came hard, spurts of come covering his stomach and chest. As he rode out his orgasm his vision began to fade and he wondered if this is how he would die. He was dimly aware of warmth filling him and suddenly he could breath.
Rohan took harsh gasps of air in, chest heaving, as vision slowly came back to him. He looked up to see Josuke staring at him with wide eyes. His eyes went from Rohan’s face to his neck, his body starting to shake. Wordlessly Crazy Diamond came out, ready to help but Rohan held a hand up. He coughed, finding it hard to talk.
“Don’t heal me.”
Josuke looked like he was going to say something, but he stopped and let Crazy Diamond fade. He pulled out of Rohan with a ‘pop’ and immediately swung his arms around Rohan.
“You fucking idiot.” Josuke whispered.
Rohan paused, before letting his arms wrap around Josuke. He almost felt bad.
Almost.
***
Days later, Rohan had given atleast a half apology and they’ve discussed Josuke being rougher sometimes. Rohan stares at the page he is working on, idly pressing against the dark bruises on his neck, and smiles. | 8ee583ae808b4ee3b30dd5d019e224fe | ['145ac31ae2e44656b30cf2cb4bcd98f3'] | Rohan leered at Josuke as he trailed down until he was facing Josukes cock. He gave a Cheshire grin before poking his tongue out and opening his mouth wide. Josukes eyes widened and he didn’t even have time to plead before Rohan took him in his mouth, easily taking him to the base. The answering shriek made Rohan’s cock twitch. He began to bob his head up and down slowly, groaning when he saw Josuke was actually crying. He was tempted to lick those tears away, but it was much more enjoyable to continue to cause them. The sounds coming out of Josuke were almost inhuman, screams and unintelligible words escaping his throat with barely any breath in between.
Rohan pulled back, a string of saliva and precum following his lips. As much as he wanted to draw this out, his erection was bordering on painful, so he supposed it was time to get to the main course. He stood, and began to undress. Josuke watched with glazed eyes, breathing harshly at what he was sure was a short reprieve.
Josuke flinched as Rohan straddled his hips. Rohan called Heaven’s Door out (chuckling when Josuke whimpered) and used the stands power on himself, writing “I am prepared for anal sex” with a flourish. He closed his pages quickly, almost shaking in anticipation as he aligned Josukes cock with his entrance. He paused as a thought occurred to him.
“Are you a virgin?”
Josuke was too out of it to answer, staring sightlessly ahead of himself and whimpering pathetically. Rohan didn’t wait for an answer, he sunk down to the hilt, groaning as he was filled. Josuke wailed at the feeling of being burned alive consumed his lower half. He babbled incoherently, though the words “please” and “stop” were understandable. Rohan felt almost high as it filled his ears, it sent warmth straight to his core. He rode him hard and fast, moaning mixing with Josukes hoarse cries. The sounds died back down to whimpers, as if Josuke was to exhausted to even scream, though tears continued to trail down his face, along with snot and drool. Normally this would disgust Rohan, but under the current circumstances, it only turned him on more.
Josuke throbbing inside Rohan was all the warning he received before he felt warmth fill him. He milked him, not slowing down. Josuke seemed almost relieved for two seconds before realizing that Rohan hadn’t stopped. Rohan laughed, biting his lip when Josuke began struggling again, soft distressed sounds coming from his torn throat.
“Did you honestly think this was over? I haven’t even come yet.”
Rohan rode Josuke until he had softened inside him, sighing in loss as he pulled himself off. He crawled over Josukes body, until he was straddling his chest. He began stroking himself, precum making his hand glide smoothly. It didn’t take long before he was coming, making sure to aim for Josukes face. He flinched as it covered his mouth and cheeks, but otherwise didn’t respond.
Rohan was tempted to sketch him, completely out of it and covered in his come, but he supposed that could come another time. He brought Heaven’s Door out, turning Josuke into a book and erasing the line he wrote inside before closing the pages. He got off the bed and began to dress, the sound of his clothes and Josukes breathing the only sounds in the room. He then set about untying Josuke, starting with his hands and then legs. He straightened his clothes and stood, watching him for a moment. Josuke had relaxed, though he had yet to realize he was no longer bound.
Rohan ran a finger through the come on Josukes face, licking his lips at the way Josuke flinched from him. He ran the finger over Josukes lips before pushing a finger inside. He made a face at the taste, but licked it off anyway, perhaps in fear of pain should he not obey. Rohan grinned, then walked away. He came back with a towel and gingerly wiped the come, tears, drool and snot off the boys’ face.
“You can leave now Josuke. And it goes without saying, but if you tell anyone, I’ll do far worse to you.”
Josuke shuddered, getting up quickly and fleeing the house. He ran until he was home and collapsed into his bed, shuddering. He looked himself over, but not a single mark showed from the ordeal he had just went through. He burrowed himself into covers and didn’t wake up for several hours.
******
It took weeks for Josuke to not flinch when others touched him. He tried to relax around his mom and friends, but he couldn’t control it. Especially when Rohan tagged along, smiling at him knowingly. |
703d56bfbe094324af3cc47f3fee1734 | ['1492bc8075e94663ba6890a39df69455'] |
1. Control
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> ***ATTENTION***
>
> This fan-fiction includes anal sex with a strap-on, if you don't like it click away NOW.
“You really want this don’t you?” Norman asked his wife.
“Well, I just think it’d be…” Kaylee stopped to lick her lips, dancing her finger from Norman’s throat to his chest. “Fun.” She finished.
“I don’t know babe. It’s one thing for us to role-play but bringing Sean into it…” Norman sighed.
“What you don’t think he’d agree?”
“Oh he’ll definitely agree that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what?” She asked.
Norman grunted. “This could change things.”
“How?” Kaylee asked. When he didn’t answer she continued. “Anyway it was just a thought. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“It’s not that. Well kind of, I have no problem fucking Sean or letting him fuck me if he was up for it. I just never pictured the three of us. I don’t want things to be weird.”
“Norm, we’re married. Nothing we do together could change our relationship.”
“I’ll think about it.” He replied before giving his wife a sweet kiss on the lips.
Kaylee brought her hands up to his hair, fisting his long locks and bringing his head closer as she nipped on his bottom lip. Norman moaned. “Someone’s horny.” He smirked.
“Baby you always make me horny.” She replied kissing him again.
“Do I?” Norman grinned in between kisses.
Kaylee dipped her hand down between his legs and gripped his growing bulge, rubbing circles with the palm of her hand through his clothed erection. “You’re wearing far too many clothes.” She grunted.
“Such a dirty little wife I have.” Norman growled. “You want it sweetheart? I’ll give it to you, nice and rough just like I know you like it.”
“Enough talking! Pants off now.” She climbed on his lap and began unbuckling his belt.
“So impatient. Let’s take this to the bedroom babe.” He said, pushing her off of him so they could both stand.
It was a struggle between ripping each other’s clothes off, walking to the bedroom and seeing who could dominate the other, Norman eventually winning of course. He pushed her against the wall next to their king sized bed, roughly removing her clothing, leaving Kaylee only in her bra and underwear. He bit down the flesh of her neck hard and she whimpered, thrusting her hips up to his wanting to alleviate some of the pressure that was already built up in her pulsing core. He gripped her neck with his hand in a choking manner, licking and biting the skin along her neck and jaw before finally tasting her lips again.
“What did I tell you about being patient?” Norman growled in his wife’s ear.
“Norm please…I need you.” Kaylee responded.
“Too fucking bad sweetheart. You know I like to take my time with you. Now, are you gonna be a good little girl for me?”
She nodded slowly.
“Good. Then let daddy have his play time.” Norman said matter-of-factly. He continued the path of licking and kissing from her neck to her chest. He roughly grabbed her heavy orbs and kneed them through her bra. Kaylee threw her head back and groaned. “You’re nipples are so hard for me already.” Norman smirked, bringing the cotton material down to reveal her breast to his hungry gaze. He kissed and licked the top of her mound before reaching down to her nipple. He captured her erect nub in his lips and sucked on it, making Kaylee shut her eyes tight and her mouth hung open into a perfect “O” shape. He moved to the other breast mimicking the same ministrations. He tugged on her nipples lightly with his teeth while she gripped his hair into a tight fist, keeping him where she wanted.
In a fluid movement Norman removed her bra and attacked her lips again, his hands returning to cup her bosoms. He tweaked her nipples with his index and thumb fingers. Kaylee yelped in both pain and pleasure, making Norman twist her nipples again, harder this time. Norman dragged his mouth from her lips to her collarbone, bending his head down again to tease her hard nubs with his tongue. He continued making his way down to her stomach, hips and then, finally, he was kneeling in front of her still covered womanhood. Norman inhaled the scent of his wife’s sweet pussy through her underwear and groaned from anticipation. He rubbed the tip of his nose against her vertical lips, feeling just how wet his wife was.
“You dirty little whore. So wet for daddy aren’t you?”
Kaylee moaned and thrusted her hips to his face, holding him in place with her hands. “Nor…please!” She moaned.
Norman kissed and licked her hips up to her navel, deliberately teasing his wife and making her insane with desire. Ever so slowly, Norman pulled on the last piece of clothing that separated her wanton pussy from his tongue. He lifted each of her legs carefully and slowly, taking the last piece of clothing and flinging it somewhere he did not care to know. Kaylee was gasping, she just wanted him to feast on her aching core already. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, she could see her husband’s beautiful baby blues turn into a darker shade of blue as his pupils dialed. She wanted to scream from pleasure just by seeing the predatory look on Norman’s face.
“I’m gonna destroy your pussy sweetheart.” Norman growled dangerously low. He pushed a finger up and down her folds only to prove his point. “You gonna be daddy’s good little whore tonight?” He asked.
Kaylee groaned while rapidly nodding yes. | 5896810c6aef4a0b8d2b600d38a7ffee | ['1492bc8075e94663ba6890a39df69455'] | Suddenly, Daryl had the memory of a week ago flash before him, when it was Aaron’s hand on his shoulder. He abruptly felt the guilt wash over him.
“I would come with you but I’m afraid this place would fall apart without me.” Rick spoke softly.
“It wouldn’t.” Daryl said. “They know what it takes now.”
“Do they?” Rick retorted. “Because I’m not sure they get it yet.”
“They know. They just need to be taught how to defend ‘emselves better.”
“That’s why I need to be here.”
“Doesn’t always have to be you Rick.”
“Yeah. Yeah It does.” Rick responded matter-of-factly.
As Daryl was heading out of the gate, Aaron stopped him.
“Hey!” He shouted after him.
Daryl turned around and saw Aaron running after him.
“Wait.” He called.
Daryl tried to avoid eye contact so he looked out of the corner of his eye.
“Rick said you were heading out.” Aaron said when he finally caught up.
“Hmm.” He mumbled a rough voice.
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
“M’ fine on my own.” Daryl grunted.
“I’m going with you.” Aaron stated.
“You really think that’s a good idea? After last time?” Daryl spoke without thinking.
“Last time? It wasn’t a mistake Daryl.” Aaron frowned. “And that’s not what I’m here for. You need backup.”
“Gonna keep up this time?” Daryl smirked, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I will.”
* * *
Daryl looked tracked the wolves for a while, their footprints disappeared however. It was already dusk, the sun was going to be setting soon.
“You see anything?” Aaron asked.
“Nah. Their tracks are gone. S’ weird. If they can erase their tracks why wouldn’t they erase it from back there?”
“They left in a hurry Daryl. Our people sent them off guns blazing.”
“Yet they managed to erase their tracks right here.” Daryl pointed to the ground. “It’s just gone nothing out here but dirt and grass. A lot of places to check.”
“You think they’ll retaliate.”
“Would be surprised if they didn’t.” Daryl confessed.
“Even if they just have knifes?”
“Hell all they had was pointy sticks and look what they did.”
“We should get back.’ Aaron suggested.
“You go.”
“We should get back.” He repeated.
Daryl glared at him.
“What if they made it back to Alexandria.”
“Nah they didn’t. Their tracks were heading out.”
“I don’t like this.” Aaron said.
“You n’ me both.” Daryl replied.
They started making their way back. Aaron silently followed in Daryl’s foot prints until he suddenly halted. Daryl put his hand up, signaling for him to stop.
“Hold up.”
“You see something?” Aaron asked.
“Up ahead.” Daryl signaled. “There’s a cabin.”
“Think they’re in there?”
“Could be a lot things in there. Stay here, I’m gonna take peak.”
“I’m going with you!” Aaron protested.
“Shh. Gotta be quiet.”
“I’m going with you.” Aaron whispered.
Daryl looked at him annoyed. “Follow my lead.”
They creeped their way to the back of the cabin, in search for any sign of the dead, or the living. They were both in high alert. Daryl held his hand up yet again, telling Aaron to halt while he spied inside the window.
“What do you see?” Aaron whispered.
“Nothing. No movement.” Daryl looked around again and didn’t see anything moving inside. He tapped on the window twice and waited.
“Walker.” Aaron said.
“Just the one?”
“Yeah.” Aaron replied looking at the walker that was making its way towards them.
“I got it.” Aaron said taking out his knife. He made his way towards the walker and stabbed the living-dead corpse in its rotten skull. He stumbled as the walker went down, grabbing a hold of him and pulling Aaron down with it.
Aaron quickly got up and wiped himself down. He looked back and saw Daryl behind him with his crossbow raised.
“I’m fine.” Aaron smiled.
Daryl snarled and walked back to the cabin, Aaron following close behind.
They searched the shack in the woods and found nothing. No sign that anyone has been living there for a long time. Whatever food they found was spoiled.
“Kind of cozy.” Aaron joked.
Daryl snorted.
“Ah come on. Wouldn’t you live here?”
Daryl looked at him. “Nah. Had enough of cabins to last me a life time.’
“Really?” Aaron asked interested.
“Hmm. Lived in ‘em all my life. Full blown redneck for ya.”
“Doesn’t seem bad.”
“You really are a city boy ain’t ya?” Daryl smirked.
“It just seems nice to be out here. Away from everyone and everything.” Aaron shrugged. “Eric and I…we always talked about having our little shack in the woods. Well…” He laughed. “More me than him. I guess he leaned more towards civilization.”
Daryl nodded.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Daryl asked.
“Have you ever wanted to live somewhere else?”
“Wasn’t much of a dreamer.” Daryl shrugged.
“And now?”
“Still ain’t.” Daryl smirked.
They chuckled.
“Listen…the other day…” Aaron started.
“Don’t.” Daryl cut him off short.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I know you don’t want this…” Aaron spoke hesitantly.
“It’s just easier if we don’t.” Daryl said after a moment.
“Why? What is there left now Daryl? The little time we all have, don’t you think we should it make the best of it?”
Daryl looked at him contemplating, he had a point.
“What if we do? It ain’t like I’m gonna hold your damn hand if that’s what ya want.” Daryl said looking away.
“I’m not asking you to hold my hand or go steady Daryl. I’m just asking for a chance.”
“You just wanna get laid? That it?” Daryl asked fidgeting with his hands.
“Isn’t that what you want? A release from all of this? An escape?”
“Maybe.” Daryl intimated.
“No one knows Daryl. No has to know it’s none of their business.”
“…Ok.” Daryl hesitated. He put his crossbow down and made sure all the doors and windows were closed tightly.
“What are you doing?” |
2077ab79a57f4cc299116717dca08c08 | ['14b2ee7e81ba420690983d0545e9e78b'] | Lauren smiled and turned back to finish up the babies bath. “Ok you two, let’s get in our pjs. It’s almost bedtime,” she cooed as Jay got their towels. They wrapped them up and dried them off.
“Jay go eat baby. I got them,” she smiled.
“No, I need to help you with Jayla.”
“We’ll be fine this one time. Go eat.”
Jay finally gave in because he’d skipped lunch. Lauren put Jayden on the blanket in the floor to play as she got Jayla’s inhaler. She laid Jayla back against her and put the mask over her face.
She started fussing and trying to turn her head side to side to get off. “It’s ok baby. Just our normal treatment. You’re ok,” Lauren cooed as Jayla wiggled and turned her head crying. She tried singing softly to her as she attempted to hold her and work the inhaler. Jayla fussed and reached for the mask causing Lauren to have to hold her hands too.
She wasn’t breathing the medicine in because she was crying, and Lauren was trying hard not to get frustrated. “Jayla, baby, you’re ok. It’s ok,” she cooed. She took the mask off hoping to get her calm and try again. She rocked her side to side softly singing to her. “You’ve got to take your medicine baby girl. It’s ok,” she cooed.
Jay walked through with his food. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“She got upset. Wouldn’t quit crying enough to breathe it in,” Lauren said as Jayla calmed. “We’ll try again,” she smiled turning Jayla to lay back against her. As soon as she reached for the mask, Jayla started crying. Lauren let out a sigh.
“Here,” Jay said stripping his shirt and reaching for Jayla. He laid her against him pulling her pajama shirt off. He laid her blanket over them, and Jayla rubbed her eyes calming down. “Change in her routine; she don’t like it,” he said as Lauren slipped the mask on her.
Jayla rubbed her eyes as Jay settled her over his heart. Lauren worked the inhaler, and Jayla did just fine, like always. By the time they were done, Jayden was fussy getting hungry.
“You eat. I’ll get them down,” she said picking up Jayden too. Jay cleaned Jayla’s mouth, and then passed her to Lauren. She took them to their room to rock as she settled in to nurse. She felt so helpless that Jayla wouldn’t take the inhaler from her.
She knew Jay was right and it was just a change, but she still couldn’t help but feel upset. She had no idea what she’d do if Jay wasn’t around, and she had to give it to her. She gazed down at her sleepy babies; “Mommy loves you both so much,” she whispered. “And so does your daddy. You both are loved so very much.”
Once the babies finished nursing, she burped them. Jayden fell asleep almost right away. She laid him down covering him up. Jayla was rubbing her eyes and sucking her thumb. She had Jay’s blue eyes, and she was just watching Lauren.
“Go to sleep baby girl,” Lauren whispered laying her down. Jayla started fussing immediately so Lauren picked her back up to rock. She softly sang to her and in just a few minutes, Jayla was sound asleep.
Jay had been standing in the doorway watching with a smile. After she laid Jayla down, he wrapped his arms around her waist. He softly kissed her cheek; “You three make any bad day better,” he whispered.
Lauren turned in his arms, softly kissing him. “We’ll always be here,” she smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed. I’m sure you’re tired,” she said grabbing his hand and leading him to bed.
“Yea a little,” he said. “It was a long day, and tomorrow don’t look to be any better. Let me shower and I’ll join you in bed,” he said.
“Ok baby,” she smiled changing into his t-shirt for bed. She still loved sleeping in them.
Jay went to shower. It’d been a long, stressful day, and now that Olive had made the decision to turn off life support, tomorrow would be worse. Voight would be out for revenge, and he had no idea how it was going to effect the unit just yet. He let out a sigh; he couldn’t worry about that now, not when his wife was waiting on him in bed.
He got out drying off before slipping on boxers and going out to their room. She was lying in bed looking at the twins’ pictures from when they were born. Seeing her looking at those made him remember to ask her about the photo shoot she was going to have for them. It’d gotten pushed aside after he’d got shot, but he knew how important it was to her to capture pictures of their babies.
Jay crawled in behind her, wrapping his arms around her. “Whatcha doing beautiful?” he whispered.
Lauren laid the pictures back on her night stand. “Just looking at how far they’ve come,” she whispered.
Jay softly kissed her cheek. “That wasn’t your fault, and tonight wasn’t either baby.”
“I know,” she smiled sadly. “Tell me about today,” she said rolling and rubbing his cheek changing the subject.
“Not going to work on me,” he smiled. “I know you’re feeling helpless and like it was your fault,” he said rubbing her cheek.
Lauren sighed softly; he knew her so well. “I just… if you’re not around, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Jay placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hopefully that won't happen, but if it does, you’ll know what to do. You’re a good mother, Lauren. Our babies are more than lucky to have you, and so am I.”
Lauren nodded as Jay wiped her tears. | 8964e40048b140a599edc77b3e3e2977 | ['14b2ee7e81ba420690983d0545e9e78b'] | "Ok Jay," she whispered and he had to stop a moan of desire from escaping hearing her say his name with her accent.
"I'll see you tomorrow Lauren."
"Ok see you," she said and they hung up.
Kelly and Shay were on shift so she'd have to catch Shay first thing in the morning to help her pick out something to wear. This would be her first ever date and she was excited and nervous and wanted it to go well.
She barely slept that night with all her nerves and excitement. She was up waiting on Kelly and Shay when they got home. "Hey Sis. What are you doing up this early?" Kelly asked giving her a hug. They'd got pulled out on a call right as shift was ending and ended up working over. By the time they got home it was already four in the morning and they were both exhausted.
"Just couldn't sleep," she said trying to send Shay a look.
"You sure everything's ok?" Kelly asked catching her look.
"Yep. I'm good," she smiled reassuringly at her brother.
"Kelly just go to bed and let me talk to her," Shay said shoving him towards his room. She knew he wouldn't go without some encouragement and Lauren obviously had something she wanted to talk to her about.
Kelly sighed looking between the two of them before Shay gave him a nod. He hugged Lauren and told her goodnight before heading for bed.
"Ok, what's up?" Shay asked plopping down at the bar with Lauren.
"I have a date tonight and I need help picking an outfit," she spit out quickly as a blush coated her cheeks.
"A date huh?" Shay said with a smile.
"Jay finally called today and wants to take me out tonight," she said.
"Ah. I see," Shay smiled giving her a hug. The girls had become close in the week Lauren had been there, and Shay was like her big sister now. "What kind of outfit do we need?"
"Ummm.... well he said he only has a motorcycle so jeans and boots, but I didn't bring boots and I don't have any idea what to pair with it."
"I've got boots you can try," Shay smiled. "Oh and just the perfect shirt," Shay smiled pulling Lauren to her room.
She grabbed some black boots from the closet and then tossed Lauren a blue and a red plaid button up shirts. "Try either of those with some tight jeans. I'll help you with makeup too if you want," Shay offered knowing Lauren's mom had never allowed it.
"Thanks Shay, I really appreciate this," Lauren said giving her a hug.
"Of course honey. I don't mind. What time is he getting you?"
"He said he'd pick me up at six."
"Ok. I'll be sure to be up. Now, go get some sleep," Shay smiled giving her one more hug.
"You too. Thanks so much," Lauren said heading to bed herself. She was finally tired now that her outfit was decided and she couldn't wait for her date.
Lauren ended up sleeping until lunch. Shay slept until about four and Kelly was still asleep as Shay helped her get ready. "You sure you don't mind telling him?" Lauren asked Shay again.
"I promise. Besides he'll be overprotective at first but he'll get over it. I can handle him," she winked as she finished up Lauren's makeup. She'd braided her hair for her too and Lauren looked stunning.
"This alright?" She asked doing a quick twirl.
"You look great," Shay smiled. Just then they heard a knock. "Go knock him dead. We'll see you later," Shay smiled pushing her to the door.
Shay held in her laugh as she heard Jay's sharp intake of air when Lauren opened the door. After telling her how good she looked and asking if she was ready, they were out the door. Shay curled up on the couch with the TV waiting for Kelly to wake to break the news to him. While she assured Lauren she could handle him, and she could, she knew he was going to flip when he found out his baby sister was out on a date.
Once outside the apartment building Jay helped Lauren strap on a helmet. "Now its not hard. Just hang on and lean with me. If you fight it, that's when it gets tricky," he said making sure her helmet was on snug.
Lauren gave him a nod and he climbed on his Ducati. She slid on behind him, the seat pushing her right up against him. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight as he fired it up. Damn if she didn't feel good wrapped around him.
He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before taking off. He heard her short yelp and felt her squeeze tighter and it made him smile. This girl was something else and he loved having her close.
They pulled up outside a burger joint in the city and Jay killed the bike. Lauren was still holding on tight and he couldn't stop his smile from growing. He gently pulled her hands apart and slid off before helping her off. "You good?" He asked undoing her helmet and leaving it on the handlebar.
"Yea... that was... that was fun," she smiled big.
Jay couldn't stop himself from kissing her forehead. Her emotions and demeanor was so catching and she already made him happy. "Good. I'm glad you liked it. Let's go eat," he smiled taking her hand. They went in and found a corner table. After they ordered they shared easy conversation just getting to know one another. |
3246196831a344c28b805515b5bbc62f | ['14b5831b8a2a41c0ad5db228a5384d21'] | > It's Enjolras's fourth year in Hogwarts and the year is full of confusion, happiness, and surprising situations, but also not so surprising.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So this chapter came faster than I thought and it's also not so long, but I decided to move some things to the later chapters. Hope you like and enjoy! :)
They met at the end of their vacation at Marius's grandfather's house. All of the Les Amis were there, apart from Grantaire who hadn't make it. Marius lived with his grandfather in a great mansion in London. He was old, sparky, whitehaired wizard. They spent couple days there and after that Enjolras went to buy his schoolstuff from Diagon Alley with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. When he returned home there were only few days and the school would start. Enjolras had had a good summer. His parents had left him alone so they didn't fight a lot. It was an early evening and Enjolras was at his room when his mother came to talk to him:
"I have said this before and I say it also now. You should let me cut your hair. It's too long, Enjolras! That isn't clean anymore. If your grandparents saw that, they'd be terrified." Enjolras hadn't let his mother cut his hair since last Christmas. He liked it when it was longer. He had always had very short hair like all his male relatives had. When it was longer it suited him better and it was the first time Enjolras could say that his hair actually looked good. It was curly and now it looked a little messy but natural and the golden colour got into it's rights. However his parents didn't appreciate it. The length of ones hair was one of the family's stupid traditions and if someone broke it, no one took it very well.
"I like it this way and it's my hair. Besides I'm going back to Hogwarts soon and they won't be there looking at it. So you can just leave now if there was nothing else you wanted to say." His mother said nothing. She stood there for a while and since Enjolras said or did nothing more, she left.
~~~
"Hi everyone! This is Gavroche, my little brother. I have told you about him. Is it okay if he sits here with us?" Eponine stood at the doorway with a small eleven-year-old kid with dull darkbrown hair and bright eyes. They were at the train on their way to Hogwarts. Enjolras had once met Gavroche. He was stubborn and lively boy with a huge amount of smartness.
"Hi Gav and 'Ponine, nice to see you again. Of course he can sit here. No need to even ask." Enjolras and Gavroche got along well, but during the evening it turned out that there was one person over everyone who Gavroche liked, and who liked Gavroche, and that person was Courfeyrac. It was like they would have known each others forever. Enjolras was happy to get back to Hogwarts with his friends. He was looking forward the beginning year. He thought that even Montparnasse couldn't ruin his mood. The night went on and soon they were eating in the Great Hall. The sorting had gone fast and Eponine had been very nervous. Eventually Gavroche had been sorted into Gryffindor. He had almost run to the Gryffindor's table. Now he sat with Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Bahorel and Musichetta. They were having fun. Eponine was silent, but she looked very pleased. Enjolras wasn't sure if it was because she was happy for Gavroche or if she was happy that she was back to Hogwarts, like Enjolras was. Perhaps both. No matter how different families they were from, there were some things that united them. They were both from long lines of Slytherin and neither of them got along with their parents. Eponine was as strong willed as he was and she had had a rough life which had hardened her. The same hardess was seen in Gavroche and Azelma, even though all three of them were very different.
The year started well even though Enjolras had to sleep in the same room with Montparnasse who didn't make things easy. The Les Amis de l'ABC continued their meetings on two nights at a week. Enjolras was happy to learn new things, he enjoyed watching quidditch and seeing some of his friends playing. His parents send him rarely very short letters but sometimes Gwica flew to him at the Great Hall in morning just to see him. Enjolras didn't really care if his parents were angry with him. He was at Hogwarts with his friends and that was all that mattered to him right now.
~~~
It was almost Christmas when Enjolras started to pay attention on Eponine's weird action. She spent more time around Marius, laughed at his terrible jokes and talked a lot about him. Enjolras wasn't the only one who had noticed this, but nobody really talked about it. Combeferre gave the two of them knowing glances, Courfeyrac and Bahorel made some insinuations every now and then and Jehan, Joly and Musichetta giggled behind Eponine and Marius's back. Of course there were Bossuet and Feuilly who had no idea about anything. And Marius himself hadn't got a clue that there was something going on. Enjolras felt sorry for Eponine that she had to have a crush on a boy who barely even saw her and if he did, he saw her only as a friend. Marius wasn't a mean person, he just wasn't like Combeferre or Jehan who could easily notice other people's feelings. | f801da05ef324f029d5d0efbef4bfaca | ['14b5831b8a2a41c0ad5db228a5384d21'] | “Coffee? If you want to eat something, just help yourself 'cause for all our sakes I don't cook,” Enjolras didn't sound tired but there were black circles under his eyes. It didn't make him less attractive, though. Grantaire mentally kicked himself. He hoped more than anything that he had only a crush on Enjolras because of his looks, but the fact was that the looks was only a nice extra.
“Please. I would kill for coffee,” Grantaire felt a heath on his cheeks when Enjolras offered him a cup and their fingers brushed slightly.
“I can make us something,” he offered and Enjolras nodded.
“I'm gonna take a shower before the others wake. Feel free to use everything you need.” Grantaire really tried not to think Enjolras in shower so he just hurried to study the inside of Enjolras's fridge.
It didn't take long when others crawled to the daylight from their dark hangover holes. Grantaire himself feels surprisingly good, well not exactly good but he could feel worse. Enjolras took a long time in shower and everyone else was already eating when he arrived. Grantaire tried not to look him more than necessary. His hair was wet but it seemed that not even water could make his hair flat. It was as fluffy as ever but darker and watery. Enjolras had changed more relaxed clothes.
It took hours from the hangover gang get anything done. Eventually it was long after three when they finally got the house cleaned. Grantaire was quite proud of his friends (and himself) that they didn't do any more mess than that. Valjean was coming home at Sunday, so they stayed there an other night. They didn't have much alcohol left so the next night was more easy than the other and they actually made beds for everyone. Luckily Enjolras and Cosette's home was so big they didn't have problem with beds. Cosette, Enjolras and Eponine ended up sleeping in Enjolras's room, Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta in Cosette's, Combeferre, Marius and Courfeyrac were allowed in Valjean's room and the rest slept in quest room. Even the spare beds were comfortable and Grantaire thought that he would like to change his own bed in one of those. Grantaire hadn't had checked his phone at all during the day. He was already in his bed when he finally opened it and took a look. He had several missed calls from his father but he didn't bother to wonder why. He was going home tomorrow anyway.
As soon as Grantaire walked through the front door he knew something wasn't right. It wasn't anything that could be seen but the air was different. It felt heavy and pressuring. The house was quiet, though Grantaire knew his parents were home since the door hadn't been locked. He walked through the hall and stopped at their living room. His father sat in the chair. His back was turned to Grantaire and he just stared the wall. Grantaire felt something cold creep in his spine.
“Father?” he asked, “What's going on?” His father didn't answer. Grantaire walked in front of him and he looked straight through him. Not a single expression nor emotion was seen in his pale face. He looked stiff as a statue. Grantaire would have thought he was dead if he wasn't breathing so heavy.
“Has something happened?” Finally his father turned his eyes on Grantaire. His blue eyes were cold and behind them was no life at all.
“I called you.” His father's voice was hoarse and numb.
“I'm sorry, I was with my friends so I didn't hear. It was already past midnight when I noticed your calls.”
“There was so little we asked you. And you couldn't do even that.”
“What? What are you talking?”
“She is dead. And you are so selfish you couldn't even answer.”
“Dead?” Grantaire felt like his heart stopped. He suddenly felt cold and he shivered.
“Your mother is dead!” His father's eyes bulged in his head and he gripped the armrests of the chair. Grantaire felt like a wall of glass grew between him and the world. He felt like he left his own body.
“What,” it was barely a whisper but his father heard.
“YOUR MOTHER KILLED HERSELF AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN PICK UP THE PHONE!” It wasn't real. Grantaire stood there. Numb like his father had been. He stared at the man in front of him but not really seeing him. Killed herself. His mother had killed herself. Grantaire had always known his mother was emotionally unstable and she had had weak moments, but that she could commit suicide? No. Grantaire felt himself move. His head was hazy and he saw his own room but all he could do was stand there in the middle of the room. His brain was empty. He couldn't think. He couldn't feel. The feeling of cold was gone and only emptiness was left. Grantaire didn't know how long he had just stood there. Eventually he fell into his bed and laid there. He was still numb and he had no idea if he had slept or been wide awake the whole night when he registered it was morning. He finally got up. He didn't find his father. He walked around the house and everything was like before. He found it hard to believe his mother was gone but there was no questioning it. His father was broken. Grantaire wondered if what was wrong with him. He should be sad. His mother had just died. Killed herself from all ways of dying. He felt nothing. |
fe87af7d2e2f41f0b7c2e0e5cd732e17 | ['14b5bb84ce974fc595ef5e83264d3d40'] |
1. They All Start Somewhere
Whenever Mike Ross looks back, when he finds a moment in between cases or a second to stare off the balcony of his condo, or in the time between consciousness and sleep, Mike tries to imagine when he stepped on this path. He asks himself what was the moment when he turned from Mike Ross, troubled loser, to Mike Ross, soon to be best lawyer in the city. And he’ll always settle on the image of Trevor, grinning, a copy of the Calculus II midterm in his hand. And he remembers taking that test, ripping it to pieces, and throwing it in the trash.
When Mike graduated Columbia Law, he received eighteen job offers, no questions asked. None of which were from Pearson-Hardman, the best law firm in the city. A quick call to the managing partner, Jessica Pearson, informed Mike that they only hired from Harvard, and Mike, in one of his rare fits of temper, told Jessica she was making one of the biggest mistakes of her career. She chuckled lightly and hung up, and Mike proceeded to call Wakefield-Cady, then the fifth best law firm in the city.
Mike chose Wakefield-Cady because they practically begged: offering him a higher starting salary than anyone else, and a practically guaranteed partnership in three years. He also knew that it would look even better when he eventually lead the law firm to the top. Yeah, Mike Ross was pretty cocky, but he knew he was good. And if he wasn’t the best lawyer in New York yet, he knew he would be, just given a little time.
His first case was a pro-bono. He listened with sympathy as young woman named Jenny Griffith told about her mother’s messed up leg, how she might never be able to walk again, and how her health insurance company refused to pay for the surgery. Mike put his all into her case, determined to win for her, and for her mother.
He lost his first case to a Mr. Harvey Specter, Junior Partner of Pearson Hardman. Mike barely remembers the trial today, but he remembers the devastated look on Jenny’s face before it disappeared behind a flat, broken smile. Afterwards he just sat there sat on a bench outside the courtroom, and stared at his hand. The hand that Jenny had shaken gently before leaving, her brow furrowed slightly and her mouth turned down at the edges.
Harvey Specter walked out of that courthouse with a smile on his face. He glanced to the side and saw the opposing lawyer sitting on the bench. He was slumped down like a kicked puppy, his eyes liquid in the dim light. Harvey imagined he felt something, a faint pressure in his chest. Someone else might have called it sympathy, but Harvey knew he’d let go of those feelings long ago, and whatever this was now was just the ghost of something remembered. He turned away quickly. That night her picked up a car from the car club, a new yellow Lamborghini, and drove until the strange feeling disappeared.
Mike had a twenty-five thousand dollar signing bonus in his account, and every cent went to Jenny’s mother’s surgery. Jenny swore up and down she would return the favor, and her chance came three years later on a cold night in September. Mike’s grandmother died in her sleep, alone. Mike was notified at 9:20 that night, and at 9:52 Jenny was holding him on the hardwood floors of his new apartment, his present to himself for making Partner. She held him the entire night and arranged her funeral, a quiet affair attended by Mike, Jenny, and a few members of his Gram’s card club. Mike stood through the funeral and the reception, the condolences. He listened to his Gram’s old friends: the mutters of “She was damn good a spades, I’ll tell you that” and “She knew how to be happy, you know? Just a tall glass of wine and an afternoon game of poker.” He said his eulogy, held back his tears, and said a final goodbye to his grandmother.
That night Mike lay in his bed and tried to count the people in his life. There was Jenny, and maybe some of the guys from work…but he didn’t really talk to them, besides the occasional drink. So there was Jenny.
His thoughts wandered to Trevor, and he considered calling him. Mike hadn’t seen Trevor since he started law school, and they hadn’t been real friends since before that. After the incident with test, Mike gave up pot. He started taking more classes, planning to graduate early, and started a part time job as a waiter. The schedule between dedicated student and aspiring drug trafficker had few overlaps, and Mike and found himself drifting further and further away from Trevor, and their life-long friendship. Mike shifted in his bed to stare out the left side of his bedroom, the wall made of clean clear glass. He looked at the people shifting below him, and blinked at the city lights, trying to categorize his sudden loneliness.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! But I prompted this on the kinkmeme, but nobody answered, and I needed this so badly! So I'm writing it myself. I haven't written fic since ninth grade (I'm sure if you look hard, you'll find something on fanfiction.net about Harry Potter and the amazing muggle girl he befriends and falls in love with), but like I said, I needed this.
>
> That being said. Criticism appreciated. I mean seriously. Rip me a new one. I want you to be as harsh and honest as possible. I have a vague idea where I'm going with this, but suggestions are also appreciated.
>
> What is this beta and how does it work? Anyway I want one so yeah volunteers?
>
> Also. Title? I'm not really feeling it. So expect it to change.
> | 17ff39efa36d4a2a9bfe1ba512988684 | ['14b5bb84ce974fc595ef5e83264d3d40'] | Mike considered and then said, “I’ll have my assistant call you. Until then, Mr. Specter.”
With raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head, he smiled and left the room.
_Not attractive at all._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm a lying liar who lies. Forgive me, but it might be a little slower going than I expected. No sexytimes this chapter. Sorry, and I'll avoid promises in the future.
>
> Ok. You guys, I know what's going to happen. I've got most of the story outlined in my head. It's going somewhere, trust me.
>
> Thank you for you're comments and kudos. You make me feel special :)
6. PAs and Real People
After much pleading and begging on Mike’s part, Jenny had reluctantly agreed to be Mike’s secretary. She’d thought that seeing Mike at work would change her perception. That a new version of Work-Mike, with hard lines and too-sharp words would override the real Mike: the one whose snark and sarcasm was always underlined with a current of deep affection. She wanted the job, needed it even—her current one hadn’t exactly been ideal— but she didn’t have many friends, not true ones, and Mike had even less; she wasn’t sure is was worth the risk. But Mike had asked, and said he needed her, and offered her his lifelong devotion and benefits that were better than she could hope for anywhere else. She’d told him that he’d had her devotion since they’d first met; giving up his was only fair. Needless to say, she’d taken the job, because she never really learned to say no to him.
She needn’t have worried; Work-Mike was as different as she’d imagined—hard and sharp and cold in a way that others in this legal jungle had come to expect. But it was only the real Mike that ever spoke to her, his voice warm and kind, or tired and grateful, his words only ever lightly teasing.
Or fiercely protective, as she witnessed, when the first man to eye her the wrong way found his career abruptly ended. He’d made a speech then, short and to the point. Standing casually as he’d fixed his coffee from the break room, in full view of every associate at the firm and quite a few of the partners, he said he’d fire anyone and everyone who dared to make Jenny the least bit uncomfortable. And he would too, Jenny thought—he certainly _could_. It had been perfectly clear that though Mike was still a Junior Partner—in name only, his salary being higher than everyone of the Senior Partners—he was the one who ran this firm. Jenny was under the impression that his lack of a promotion was his own choice—he didn’t see the benefit of giving a million dollars of his own money when it wasn’t necessary, cheap as he was, and he enjoyed it when other lawyers underestimated him. So he remained a Junior Partner for now, but Jenny knew, as did everyone at the firm, that if Mike so much as hinted that he would like to be managing partner, Cady would be out and his name would be on the building within the day.
And sometimes, for special situations, Real Mike would appear for the clients, usually for women: grandmothers and daughters like she’d been, or secretaries, assistants and executives exhausted from working it what the ignorant saw as a man’s world. Or men who seemed more tired than most. And that’s what Mike responded to strongly: the tiredness, and if Mike didn’t turn around and give back the cocky CEOs and attorneys as good as he got, Jenny would be worried at the empathy in his eyes as he spoke to them.
When she the name Harvey Specter popped up on caller ID, Jenny’s breath quickened before she could place the name. She answered and heard a smooth precise voice say, “This is Harvey Specter’s assistant. I’m calling to arrange a meeting with a Mr. Michael Ross. I was told it was slightly urgent.”
Jenny had been working for Mike long enough to know that Mike’s idea of urgent was very different from that of most of his clients. “One second,” she said. And then over the intercom that she was still not quite comfortable with, “Mike, someone calling for Harvey Specter? He wants a meeting.”
There was a long pause, full of static, and Jenny wondered if he’d heard her. She drew in a breath to repeat herself, and he answered. “Schedule a meeting, but not on Tuesday or Thursday.” Jenny wanted to point out that his schedule was actually completely empty on Thursday, but she refrained. Likely, he knew that anyway. She picked up the phone.
“He is available Wednesday, from one until nine.”
She heard a the woman say something away from the phone. Another voice answered. Then she was back on the line. “Dinner, then. Mr. Specter will meet Mr. Ross at seven at the Clearwater’s restaurant.”
“That’s fine,” Jenny said. And the woman hung up.
Harvey Specter was acting like a baby, and Donna was all too happy to inform him of this fact. “You are being a baby,” she said. “A big annoying baby who managed to get a law degree, but can’t talk to one little lawyer over the phone.”
Harvey glared at her, but didn’t try to stop her, which was good. When she’d followed Harvey to Pearson-Hardman, she’d given him a long list of nonnegotiable demands. High on that list had been her right to say whatever she wanted to him, including—but not limited to—name calling. It had been an important demand; she’d underlined it twice and had it written explicitly into her contract. “Donna, you are my PA. I asked you to make a phone call. I’d don’t see the problem here.” |
df27f96b95394adfa6378c8495d6a7dc | ['14c5e8e26a7b48618327d78d91cfa99f'] | “I have no idea,” said Winter. “It could have been anything. It’s not as if her father did anything at all, and she still took it out on him too. How can it be a crime to ask for mercy for your own child?”
There had always been all sorts of rumors flying about the castle about Levana, even before she was Queen. All sorts of slander and stories, even if Winter only heard it in bits and pieces when adults thought she wasn’t paying attention.
Nowadays she heard no rumors. Everyone was too afraid to say a word out of place, especially around the Queen’s own stepdaughter. But she’d heard all sorts of things when she was younger. And she’d never had any reason to believe them then, but now?
“Jacin?” she asked, whispering so low he had to lean his head in to hear her.
“Yes?” he replied, matching the volume of his voice to hers, for which she was grateful. She’d seen so many people pulled before the Court and made horrible examples of that she was afraid to voice it even here, in her own rooms, alone with her only friend in the world. She could imagine, far too clearly, both of them being dragged in front of the Court and forced to turn on each other, her for speaking treason, him for not turning her in.
“When I was a little, after the Princess Selene died, I know people used to say things. They used to say that it was Levana, not the shells,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “I heard those rumors too.”
“Do you think they’re true?” asked Winter.
He didn’t answer her immediately, but he sounded very certain when he did speak. “Yes, I think it’s true. She wanted the throne, and she made sure everyone in the way was dead. She’s done worse to people for far less reason.”
Her chest tightened as if someone had her heart in a vise. “My dad died trying to protect her,” said Winter. She didn’t even realize she was pulling at her hair until Jacin moved to stop her. “Why would he want to protect _that_?” There were tears rolling down her cheeks. Now that she was saying it out loud she realized she’d known for a while now, she just hadn’t been able to admit it to herself.
“Well, there are still people who say Channary was worse,” said Jacin. “He may have thought she would be kinder. She was kinder, I think, when he was still alive.”
“I don’t see how anyone could be worse than her. How does a person even turn into that?” She had to clench her fingers into fists to stop herself from tugging at her hair again. “She has so much power. She’s probably the strongest Queen we’ve ever had, and she could do so much, but all she’s ever done is hurt her own people.”
“I don’t know if this is true or not,” said Jacin. “But some people think that it’s the power that does it to them. In the process of warping the minds of others, you warp your own mind as well. That’s why the Lunar Court has always been so bad.”
Winter let that idea roll around in her head. “Even if it were true, no doctor or thaumaturge would ever admit it,” said Winter. “Do you think it’s better on Earth, then?”
Jacin shrugged. “They have their own problems. There’ve been atrocities since long before anyone had bioelectricity. And even if the Earthens do have it better, it doesn’t really matter. We’re Lunar, and we have bioelectricity. You use it or you go mad.”
Winter thought of Selene, her sweet little friend who hadn’t even made it to the age of four, who had come from the same family that produced monsters like Levana and Channery. If she had lived, would she have turned out just like them?
Was that what it meant to be Lunar? You could go mad, or you could become a monster?
___________________________________________________________
It wasn’t uncommon for a young Lunar’s bioelectric abilities to flicker in and out during puberty, and as a result it took a year before anyone noticed that she was failing to use her glamour as she should.
“Some of your tutors think you're doing it deliberately. Is this true?” asked Levana. Winter had been worried that the Queen would be angry, but she seemed more incredulous than upset.
Winter had considered lying, but it wasn’t as if she’d be able to hide what she was doing much longer anyway. It was rare for Lunars to go past thirteen without their abilities stabilizing, and past fourteen was unheard of. “Yes, your majesty.”
Levana was wearing a very sheer veil, and Winter could clearly see her rolling her eyes behind it. “And what possible reason could you have for this nonsense?”
Winter had known the question would come eventually, and she had considered and discarded several explanations. The truth, ‘I don’t want to turn into a monster like you,’ was right out for obvious reasons.
“I want people to see me for who I am,” said Winter, and she hoped that Levana wouldn’t interpret it as a personal insult to those who did use their glamours.
Levana sighed. Winter was worried that she would order her to start using her glamour again, but instead Levana simply shrugged. “Teenagers get the strangest ideas in their head, don’t they? I’ll be amazed if you keep it up for more than a month.”
___________________________________________________________
“I don’t see how a simple glamour would hurt anything,” said Jacin. “It’s not as if you have to force anyone to do anything they don't want to. Something simple would be enough to stop the side-effects.”
They’d had this discussion, or some variation of it, frequently over the past few months. “I’m still doing fine,” said Winter. “It isn’t necessary.” | 5c160db7bd884a62808b6b7758485af2 | ['14c5e8e26a7b48618327d78d91cfa99f'] | “Yes. She likes to keep secrets. I used to be afraid to say anything around her at all, but these days she doesn't seem to mind me so much. People don’t believe me like they used to. Not even when I’m trying to tell them something important,” said Winter. “Other people, though… well. I guess you found that out.”
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” said Scarlet. She scowled and rubbed at her bandaged hand.
“Would you like another candy? I brought butterscotch this time,” said Winter, offering Scarlet the box.
Scarlet looked like she going to refuse at first, but then she gingerly took one the little yellow spheres and stuck it her mouth. She sucked on it for a few moments, and then looked carefully at Winter.
“You grew up with Princess Selene, right? Earlier you were saying she was your friend.”
“That’s right,” said Winter. “She died when I was very young, but we were very close, and she still comes to visit me sometimes.”
“Okkaayyy,” said Scarlet, dragging the word out strangely. “Uh, okay. I’m sure she does.” Scarlet looked past Winter for a second, like she was checking for guards, and then lowered her voice. “What if I were to tell you she’s actually still alive?”
“I would say you’re just as mad as I am,” said Winter. “Which is strange. I didn’t think that happened to people from Earth. Are you actually part Lunar?”
“No, I’m not,” said Scarlet. “My grandmother came to Luna once, though, about fifteen years ago. A man she knew rescued the Princess when Levana started the fire – Selene lost an arm and a leg, but she survived. My grandmother smuggled her back to Earth, and they put her back together and raised her there, as Linh Cinder. You’ve heard of her, right? You’ve seen her on the news?”
Winter didn’t watch the news, but the name Cinder sparked something inside her anyway. She remembered the ghost of her friend, turning into ashes in her hand. Or maybe cinders? She always liked names that were descriptive…
“No,” said Winter, very slowly. “Selene died. She died, and she…”
She turned to Cinder?
“She survived,” said Scarlet. She sounded so insistent and so honest, but sometimes people lied to Winter, and it wasn’t always easy for Winter to tell. She couldn’t look into their minds and be sure. “She survived, and she’s on her way here. I’m sure of it.”
Winter looked up through the glass ceiling of the menagerie and saw the Earth hanging in the sky. Could she have been there the whole time?
“She’s coming here?” Winter asked.
“Yes,” said Scarlet. “She’s coming back. I don’t know how long it will take, but Levana’s here, and she has to beat Levana. You’ll help her, right? You'll be ready when she gets here?”
Fourteen years had gone by since the last time Winter had seen Selene. And they had been so young. Winter tried imagining her grown, but all she could see was the little girl she used to know, the little girl she still saw around the palace sometimes. Her deceitful mind made it difficult for her to remember things that happened weeks ago, never mind years ago, but Selene was a point of permanence. Cinder, though…
“Yes,” said Winter, still staring up at the Earth. “I’ll be ready.” |
92571dfd77c74f53a6ca20d94cb77894 | ['14c8f16809154061b9289f5a7cfaeb36'] | You resisted snickering at him and guided his hand up your shirt. Your warm, soft skin heating up the palm of his sweaty hand immediately. He sighed out, reveling in his luck and admiring how soft you were. His eyes were fixated on his hand under your shirt, following it along as he tentatively went up higher. He stopped once he felt the underwire of your bra, it was only then that he realized that most of your stomach had been exposed since your shirt caught onto his wrist when he was feeling up your shirt.
His legs shifted underneath you, and you were acutely aware of the erection that was beginning to tent in his pants. You couldn't help yourself, and you 'accidentally' ground your butt down on his groin. The action pulled a sharp whine from Choromatsu, and he slapped his free hand against his mouth, ducking his head down so you wouldn't see how mortified he was at the moment.
"What's wrong, Choro-kun?" You asked sweetly. He was really struggling to keep himself together, you were being so disgustingly sweet to him it was making him dizzy.
"Haa, it's you ___-chan. Just... forgive me!!" He begged, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you close. He buried his head lovingly between your breasts, letting out a happy sigh. There was nothing that could top this moment right now, you smelled so sweet and your breasts were so soft. Oh, how lucky could one guy be?!
All his nuzzling had you giggling like an idiot, and you figured it was time to step it up just a little bit. So you squirmed gently in his grip, reaching back around to unclasp your bra and slip it off from the front. Of course your shuffling caught his attention, his eyes focusing on your hand as it reached down the front of your shirt to pull out your bra.
"___-chan!! Ooooh...." He huffed.
"Feel them." You smiled.
He swallows hard, and despite the chilly room, he was beaded with sweat. His head was still nestled between your breasts when he snaked his hand up your shirt again, nervously cupping your soft mound in his hand. A sharp inhale was all he could respond with. His eyes were wide, mouth agape while he kneaded your breast gently.
"___-chan I... I love your boobs. They're so soft and nice. So easy to cuddle in, you're so great ___-chan!!! Is there anything I can do to repay you?!"
Sucker. You gently stroked through his hair while he smiled like an idiot. "Weeell, you could buy me some food and a few games." You hummed thoughtfully.
"Yes of course ___-chan! Anything for you!!" He snuggled into your chest again.
"Oh Choro-kun, you're so sweet." You reeled him in more. If these boys were good for anything, it was for an easy way to get cash and a fair amount of gifts.
The room was really starting to get cold, despite having Choromatsu cuddling against you. It was making your nipples perk through your shirt, a fact that Choromatsu was taking advantage of my gently pinching and rolling circles around them. The sensation has you flinch and squeak, the young man greatly enjoying your cute sounds as you begin to squirm faintly under his touch.
He sighs happily while he kneads your breast in his hand again.
"___-chan, ___-chan, has the best boobs around~" He began to hum quietly, making you blush and suppress a laugh. What a goof.
You figured this had gone on long enough, and you were getting rather cold despite him being so close.
"Ah, Choro-kun, its cold... can I put on your sweater please?" Your voice honeysweet again.
"Oh! Heh, of course ___-chan." He readily slid off his sweater and handed it over to you, to which you placed it on, fixing the elastic at the bottom and smiling to yourself. Much better.
"Hehe, ___-chan you look so cute in my sweater." He touches his cheek with his hand. "Y-you should take a picture in if later and send it to me."
You smirked again. "Sure Choro-kun. Oh, and you can keep my bra. Its a little gift from me. I actually need to leave now, I've got to get laundry done for tomorrow. See you soon, yeah?" You called, digging your phone out of the cup of your bra and stuffing it in the pocket of your new sweater.
"Y-yeah!! Thanks again ___-chan, please come back soon!!!" He smiles wide.
You wave him off and scurry out of his room, relatively pleased with yourself. You knew you could milk this NEET for so much now that you've gotten youe talons in him. On your way out of the Matsuno house you bumped into the rest of the brothers, seems like they were on their way in while you were heading out.
You waved pleasantly to them all, "Hey guys." You greeted nonchalantly, making sure they all had a chance to soak in the fact you were wearing Choromatsu's sweater.
They all watched you walk down the alleyway, and once you rounded the corner they rushed their room.
To their horror they found Choromatsu sitting by the couch with your bra, nuzzling the fabric against his face while he occasionally pressed his nose into one of the cups to breathe in your scent.
"NO WAY!" Osomatsu shouted as he lead the charge to dogpile Choromatsu. Each of them fought viciously to have a turn with the undergarment.
While you walked yourself home, it struck you that Choromatsu never did read that Nyaa-chan article about her getting married. Oh well, he's sure to see it over his Twitter feed once she produces wedding photos.
**Author's Note:**
> Choromatsu: @godofficial thanks | 06a60acd41404220bca2eb07629a016a | ['14c8f16809154061b9289f5a7cfaeb36'] | You could tell he was about to pass out from the entire situation, and you’re quite impressed he didn’t just melt right then and there.
“C’mon Ichimatsu, keep going, please?” You spoke softly to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The poor man was practically overstimulated, he swallowed hard and struggled to speak.
Ichimatsu tentatively placed his hands on your hips, you being so close drove him up the wall. You smelled so good and the way you bat your eyelashes at him had him mesmerized. Any attempt he made to talk back to you ended up with him only making small squeaks and nervous hitches of his breath. Eventually he found his voice, “Wh-what… what do you want me to do?” he managed.
“Just do what you were doing before. I really liked that.” You murmured back to him, your smile still holding a place on your lips.
He let your words sink in for a few moments, and he carefully wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you in closer so that your sat directly over his still-hard dick. It was his turn to steel himself, having to brush away his anxiety towards the situation so he could finally act it out in person. He took in a deep breath of your scent, becoming drunk off your presence alone.
“I never thought you’d stoop so low to come crawling to someone like me. You must be desperate for some kind of attention, ne?” He started, his heart pounding in his chest. Was he really sure he could do this on request? He wouldn’t know until he tried. “Such a good girl too, how’d scum like me get so lucky to seduce a cute goodie two-shoes like you?” He hummed, hot breath rolling off your neck as he started to grind up into you slowly. You didn’t expect him to be so bold, and you hitched your breath. A sound you’re sure he caught and savored since you could feel his dick twitching against your groin. You tightened your wrap around his neck, letting one of your hands snake up into his hair and pressing his head down. Giving him permission to nuzzle into your breasts.
He swallowed hard again, nearly choking on the stimuli you were presenting. This was practically everything he wanted, but he knew there had to be some kind of limit to this. But without skipping a beat, he buried his face in your cleavage, making you giggle.
“Ah! Ichimats- Ah!” You squirmed, letting out a tiny moan as he snuggled your breasts.
All the little sounds you made with him were making him wild, his head spun and he paused with his head stuck between your boobs. The internal struggle on whether or not he could continue raged within him. When would he get another chance like this? What if you were only doing this out of pity? And that you’d think even less of him after this? No no, this can’t be, you weren’t that cruel and you seemed to be genuinely enjoying this. You wouldn’t be giggling like that if you weren’t, right?
He growled into your skin and picked his head up, pressing his lips against your neck and peppering them with feather-light kisses. Leaning into you so that your weight shifted backwards.
“Haa, you smell so good. You’re making me crazy. All your little noises are too much and it makes me want to eat you alive.” He shivers, following through with the weight shift so that he could lay you on your back with him on top of you. “You’re so cute in your tights, and I can almost see everything with them on. It’s like you wore them specifically for me.” His hands run up your thighs, coming so close to your groin before you stop him. He looks up at you and you smile at him. Shaking your head playfully before holding your arms out to him. He leans into your arms and follows your lead when you pull him back.
“No touching.” You murmur into his ear.
He swallows thickly, looking down at how close you two are again from this position. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest once he realizes that your hips and his would be melded into each other if it weren’t for your clothes. You smiled, shifting your hips up so that your clit rubs against his dick through your clothes. A quiet sigh escapes you as the friction jolts through your groin. It’s been a minute since you’d been close to someone like this.
Ichimatsu breathes heavily as he tries to be decisive about what he should do. He leans away from you finally, leaving your torso vulnerable to the cool air of the room. His hands grip your legs as he lifts your hips up and continues the slow grinding you demonstrated to him. Pressing his groin into yours firmly and rolling forward into you. The friction again jolts through your groin before it turns into warm waves, causing you to moan. He drinks in your noises, shuddering softly and watching you squirm gently under him.
“Hmmn.” He groans, deciding to slowly thrust his hips into yours, making you squeak and gasp up at him.
“More, Ichi.” You whined out.
His heart skipped a beat when you called out for him so lovingly. The sensation of you grinding on his dick after edging himself earlier was certainly testing his limits, but he endured. He grasped your hips firmly so he could roll into you roughly, grunting with each of his thrusts while he practically salivated at the thought of tearing off your clothes and stuffing himself deep inside of you to sate the ache in his dick. |
59d43e92b6444a36b75fbb98ca1be8f6 | ['14e8b9b831c341fb86f56040d1966cf2'] | “You know _very_ well who’s defeated here,” he snarls, coming close to his face and letting his words pierce him syllable by syllable, “and it’s not me.”
It's a fight not to moan at being so easily handled, and Hinata doubts he would be able to do so if he wasn't so incredibly frustrated. He pulls, tests against the hold in his hair and finds it not so easy to break. His chest expands with heightened breaths as his neck is bared—the action, whether of his own will or someone else's, sends more arousal through his frame.
He cuts off whatever noise attempts to leave him when there's suddenly a knee between his thighs and he hopes Ushijima doesn't notice how close he was to grinding against him, a heat already starting to pool in his hips.
His eyes never leave Ushijima's and he doesn't miss the flashes of confident power hidden there. But it's just not in his nature to go down without a fight. He hopes Ushijima is prepared for that.
He smirks back at his rival, something other than a glare finally alighting on his face now that he's embarrassingly _into_ whatever is going on between them.
“Not yet,” he allows, as he reaches down and slips a hand into Ushijima’s track pants.
Ushijima fights the low groan that’s about to come out of his mouth when Hinata gets his hand down his pants. To combat it, he brings his knee up even further between his legs, pressing against him and daring him to fall apart and find himself wanting so much more from him. This isn’t just pushing Hinata’s buttons for innocent amusement anymore. This is pushing Hinata’s buttons for complete control of his body.
He thinks quickly, wanting Hinata to plead for it instead of doing as he pleases to try and find some say in this. He lets go of his neck and grabs his forearm to pin it to the wall so he isn’t touching him. So he doesn’t try it with the other, he lets go of his hair to pin his other forearm. Ushijima’s grips are just as tight, pushing down until he can feel his bones under muscle, his eyes screaming power and the faintest hint of lust.
“ _Now_ ,” he speaks, a low rumble in his voice that can shake the ground they’re standing on, “you will admit defeat.”
A part of him believes that Hinata still won’t do as he says, and to solidify his statement, he returns the bite given to him earlier. Only this time, it’s much harder, much sharper compared to the one Hinata tried to give him. Teeth sink deeply into pretty skin that glows like Hinata himself. In this instance, though, like hell will Hinata shine in the light of Ushijima.
Hinata's mouth falls open as more desired friction is pressed between his legs and he pants, almost unashamed now that there's finally that _pressure_ that clears his head of every thought. He barely notices losing control of his arms while he subtly grinds himself on Ushijima's thigh, the heat between the two of them catching up to him quickly.
Ushijima's voice surrounding him causes his eyes to fall heavy-lidded and he tries to remember why he was agitated with him before, his arms fighting against the hold now in a hazy frustration of trying to right his head back on his shoulders.
More heavy breaths escape him while he grinds himself fully hard against Ushijima and his head drops forward on a particularly choppy exhale. Only to shoot back against the wall when Ushijima's teeth find his neck. Pain and something else he can't place are suddenly firing through his nerves and with it, he gasps out a startled and fervently aroused noise from what feels like the base of his chest. He follows the noise with a curse and another roll of his hips on Ushijima's thigh.
There it is. Ushijima still wants him to be vocal and coherent about it, but he’s going to enjoy Hinata’s submission for the time being as he makes his mark very prevalent on his neck. He sucks the wound hard before parting his lips with Hinata’s now-salivated skin, and looks back to view what he’s done.
Hinata’s _beautiful_. Never did Ushijima think someone would look so incredible with a nasty bite mark he made himself and a vengeance for something he was still not exactly sure of. He gets even harder looking at him, admiring the work he’s done so far and only getting started. The two of them, Ushijima at least, knows that Hinata needs much more than what he’s giving him now. Making him say it is a part of the fun.
“I know what you want. I want you to say it. Or I’ll give you _nothing_.”
Hinata finds his derailed train of thought with Ushijima's words and he fights the hold on his arms with more effort. Gasps still pour out of his chest and a flush colors his cheeks, making his renewed annoyance look much less severe than he wants it to.
“You won't,” he says between breaths, “you want it just as much as I do, now.”
A frustrated groan.
“You won't let yourself leave without it.”
“But I’m not the one pinned to a wall and blushing like a child,” he retorts. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”
Ushijima rubs his leg very slowly against Hinata, watching him twitch and pant for what they’re both after at this point. Like all those years ago, Hinata’s a lot more formidable than he looks. This time, though, he isn’t going to win. Not by a long shot. | 7c91180034474afbab790d47364d640a | ['14e8b9b831c341fb86f56040d1966cf2'] | Hinata becomes a little more aware of himself once Ushijima starts pressing inside of him and he finds his attention drawn to watch where their bodies meet as he lets out a series of smaller moans and short breaths while he adjusts to Ushijima's _size_ . Watching Ushijima's hand wrapped around his own cock would be enough to drive him wild any day and now he's not only watched that but he's _feeling_ the stretch of it. He's never felt this full in his life, he thinks, and he's not surprised when he looks down to find himself leaking considerably once Ushijima is in him to the base.
“ _Shit,_ ” he gasps, his grip tightening in Ushijima's shirt. “You're...bigger than I thought you'd be.” He groans as he adjusts and tries not to let his affinity for _size_ show.
Ushijima can’t help but smirk at the comment, a little proud that he could make Hinata weak with his initial push inside. He lets himself stay buried in him, letting Hinata get used to his cock, and letting his own body feel consumed with the feeling of being inside Hinata. It’s burning, tight, like all of their sexual tension has boiled down to this very moment of ecstasy. A few moments pass before he starts to thrust slowly, pulling himself several centimeters out and pushing back in to feel the warmth that pools inside him. His pace gradually picks up, fucking him deeper and harder and letting the sound of Hinata’s moans and his own fill the room, accompanied by the sound of Ushijima’s skin pounding against his.
Soon, Hinata is melting again. After such a long build-up and such an extensive fight against himself to submit, after what felt like hours of pressing himself into Ushijima's thigh, to finally have that _considerable_ length inside of him has Hinata closer to coming than he'd like to admit. Hinata has never really needed anything special to get off, no certain flick of his or anyone else’s wrist; all he ever wants to feel is _full_. That stretch drives him out of his mind, and something big enough will easily send him over the edge without warning.
And Ushijima might be the biggest Hinata's had.
He's only fucked him for such a short period of time, but Hinata's already making the quick escalating moans that tell of his approaching orgasm as his own cock continues to leak precome at telling amounts.
“Ushi— _Waka—”_ he's not sure which name to use, all he can think is that he _needs_ Ushijima to keep fucking him _just like that_ because he's so _close, “please—_ I’m—”
“Call me Wakatoshi,” he groans into his ear as he pounds even harder and chases his own orgasm, “and come for me.”
“ _Wakatoshi,”_ he gasps with audible relief as he reaches his edge. His hand pulls hard enough on Ushijima's shirt that he hears threads pop, his entire body holds taut, and then in the next second, he's coming. With a moan that tears from his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, and his release covering more and more of their shirts with each pulse of his orgasm.
The sound of his name leaving Hinata’s lips, with the addition of him spilling himself over the both of them, drives Ushijima far over the edge. He fucks him without restraint, cock deeper and deeper inside Hinata until he shoves himself to the base inside his ass so that he can come with loud, guttural moans. He’s sure to leave bruises on Hinata’s hips as he squeezes while he releases every last drop of himself, leaning forward again to leave a third bite on his neck. All the teasing and tormenting lead up to his orgasm faster than he expects, but he can’t even complain. Once he finishes, he releases his teeth from Hinata’s neck one last time and catches his breath, ragged and unsteady, pulling back to look over him again. This time, his eyes are half-lidded and completely satisfied.
Hinata's whole body feels like it leans into Ushijima, he barely meets his gaze with glazed eyes before his forehead presses into Ushijima's chest as he goes limp in his hands. He's moaning soft sounds at slow intervals while he comes down from their high and all he can think of is the three no-doubt incredibly obvious marks on his neck that he's not sure he's really all that embarrassed about.
“Wakatoshi,” he mumbles into his chest, biting gently at the fabric of Ushijima's shirt as his fingers release from their death grip.
Ushijima relaxes his hold on Hinata’s hips and leans his head onto the wall behind him. They’re both a mess and he has no idea how they’re going to leave this room without looking suspicious and totally fucked out. He can worry about that in another few minutes, though. Right now, it’s quieter, Hinata saying his name again and feeling his chest tighten at how soft he’s speaking now, compared to how he practically wanted to bite his head off earlier at first glance.
“Shouyou,” he replies just as quietly. He slowly pulls out and lets Hinata go, making sure he leans on the wall in case he falls over, limp and without any more energy.
He works at getting his legs under himself with any sort of reliable support but he ends up leaning back into Ushijima anyway, whether out of a desire for after-sex closeness or because he simply can't stand by himself, he's not sure. His hands make their way down Ushijima's chest to skim up the sides of his shirt and rest there.
“I'm still mad at you,” he mutters into the fabric without any trace of anger, “and you never told me why you're here.” |
54dbea65e3a24201abbaaca308f8aaed | ['14f5c10604834bee8e1a381c53df4223'] | You know she doesn't know the half of it, but you don't want to be preoccupied with the task of telling everyone that you, Sollux Captor, the world's biggest asshole, didn't believe you'd have to stop her from committing suicide because you weren't thinking that she would. So instead you let Feferi envelope her arms around you as you sob, and let Eridan join in too (though you're pretty sure Feferi forced him to). Both of their touches are foreign but comforting, but they're not what you want. You want Aradia.
"Aradia," you say one last time, sounding weak even to yourself. Feferi whispers some phrase into your ear. You're not sure what she said, but it sounded soothing enough.
Finally you unclench your fists, still shaking from violent sobs. The preacher continues to lead a prayer as Feferi snuggles into you.
You don't know how much time has passed, but not very long after that fiasco Feferi pulls you up, insisting that you have to move so they can finish the burial, and your remaining tears leak out. "I love you, Aradia, please come back," you mumble before turning to face Eridan and Feferi. They escort you from the cemetery.
And thus you, Sollux Captor, are not a skyscraper. You are just the boy who could have stopped his best friend's suicide but ended up not doing so. You are just the boy who had his sunshine taken from him.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> WARNING: This work will contain some very sensitive content. This chapter includes emotional and some physical abuse. This is your final warning. If you do decide to turn back, I will in no way be offended.
>
> PS I'm really sorry.
>
> PPS Porrim and Aranea are both in college, Kanaya and Vriska are obviously fifteen and thirteen. Told From Kanaya's point of view.
**"Your parents are fighting and it's getting on the borderline of dangerous."**
About this time a month and a half ago, your mother and stepmother loved each other. They laughed together, cried together, cared for the two girls that still lived at home together, and endured the abuse of the public together because dammit, they were in love and they wouldn't let anyone else get in the way of that. Now, a month and a half later, they can't even stand to be in the same room together.
As long as you can remember it had been Dolorosa Maryam, Spinaret Serket, and their four daughters against the world. Being a same-sex couple, you had seen them get harassed plenty of times for "living a sinful lifestyle" amongst some other stupid utterances, but that didn't seem to phase them at the end of the day because they had a happy family. They'd stick their nose up and only put someone in their place when someone tried to bring you or you sisters into it, and frankly, it was bad ass when they did put someone in their place. They had a nice house, good jobs, and, in Spinaret's words, "the four most wonderful daughters lesbians could ask for". Everything for your family was good, really good.
You're not sure where that went, but it's hard to remember that time, especially since you and your thirteen-year-old younger sister Vriska are awake at midnight, spying on one of their fights from behind the hallway corner.
At first all it was was a bunch of off-hand comments and snide looks in public. Then they started talking more, and by that you mean they would sit down at the kitchen table with two cups of coffee and you'd listen in from your bedroom while your little sister pretended like she didn't know what was happening in the next room over. After that they started getting loud, and it turned into yelling and slamming doors and you just wanted it to end.
The worst part is that they act like nothing's going on. Try and act like they're happy, like they're not having problems. It works on some people, like Aranea or Porrim when they call from college or people on the streets, but not on you or Vriska. You're fifteen and thirteen, neither of you are particularly stupid or at all blind, even if Vriska does have a glass eye and wears pretty strong glasses.
"...and the Internet bill didn't get paid this month," Spinaret says, pacing back and forth in front of your mother's sewing desk where Dolorosa sits, moving a needle in and out of a pair of Vriska's jeans. _Oh, no,_ you think, and you know your sister is too, if her little shift is any indication. These are the worst fights, the one's where one of your parent's brings up some argument fuel while the other's trying to go about their daily routine.
Your mom looks up at her wife with an expression you can't read. "That's not my fault, is it?" she asks sarcastically, and you cringe. The worst thing in the world is when she takes on that tone. It's so uncharacteristic to her normal soft, motherly demeanor. "I'm not the one who uses it, am I?"
Spinaret slams her hands on your mother's sewing table, and the humming of the machine ceases as the two lock eyes, normally menacing blue against uncharacteristically menacing green. You could scream at them to stop, for Spinaret to leave her alone and for your mom to quit egging her on, but you won't. Vriska and you can't get caught, not if you don't want to get an earful of bullshit.
"Fair enough," Spinaret says, "but you're the one who gets the mail every morning." You notice the smallest twitch of your mother's jaw. "Where'd you put the fuckin' bill?"
"I gave it to you." It's a quick statement, she doesn't miss a beat and her tone is sharp enough to cut bread. | f52eaa29fb2b4e279d8ec0df47ee2f4e | ['14f5c10604834bee8e1a381c53df4223'] | "Yeah, I guess," you inquire halfheartedly because hell, you're tired. Guidance is exhausting, seven or so hours of school is exhausting, hating everyone and everything is exhausting, god dammit. You're lucky that your house (or, excuse you, apartment complex) is less than a mile from your school, otherwise that bench you just passed might look a tad bit more inviting.
As per usual, the two of you stop in front of the four-story complex and just sort of stand for a while, neither of you really want to say good-bye because good-bye is way too permanent, that's what the two of you decided back in eighth grade. It's no miracle that you still stick to that in the last weeks of sophomore year.
"So, um," you search for the right thing to say, "want to come upstairs?"
"Can't, actually," she says, giving an apologetic look. "I have to help Mom with moving some things out of Damara's old room. But I'll call you, okay?" She starts off down the sidewalk again, waving over her shoulder until she disappears behind a tree. And even then, you can still hear her yelling, "See ya, Sollux!"
Once you're sure she has ceased with her yelling, you hurry into the building. The receptionist offers you a hello as you pass through the lobby, which you disregard as you hurry up the stairs. You have a bit more important matters at hand.
Ah, X-Box Live. The third highest priority in your life, only best by practical joking and Aradia. You've been using the thing since it was a thing, and destroying bastards on Call of Duty has sort of become your vice, not to mention you've made a few good friends from it. Like Karkat, for example, who you better knew as carcino-geneticist. He was the reason why you were hurrying upstairs now, actually, he said he wanted to try out that dumb game he sent you as an early birthday present, and you weren't going to refuse him that much.
The very second after you've unlocked the front door you kick your shoes off and run into your bedroom, switching the television and X-Box to 'on' and signing into your account. Lo and behold, carcino-geneticist is online, so you shoot him a quick message.
His reply is simple, it's the name of the server he wants you to join once you've logged on. You hurry to get onto the game because you know it is no good to keep Karkat waiting, and goddamn, this game is slow. You beat the controller against you hand in impatience even though you know it won't speed up the process, and a breath you didn't even know you were holding is let out when the main menu finally shows up.
The game looks dumb from the main menu, but again, because you're a totally amazing friend you play it. You log onto the multiplayer menu and your fingers fly as you type in the name of his server, and there it is, the sole one with that name. He and two other people are logged in. Good enough for you.
After clicking onto it and waiting another eternity for it to load, you find yourself in the middle of a battlefield type setting. Assuming you already know the controls, you don your headset and turn it on, and start your guy out by running around.
__Bang!_ _
Your guy keels over a bit a graphic blood shoots from his knee, and into the headset you hiss, “Who the fuck just shot me?”
In return you get a gravelly laugh, Karkat cursing about oh, my fucking God, I knew this wouldn't work out and a few indecipherable noises of panic. You grimace at the absence of a reply until...
"Um, sorry, that was me. I was just testing out my... testin' out my dude.”
That voice is one you haven't heard before, it's a slower drawl with a weird kind of emphasis on the “W”s that you had never heard before. You furrow your brow, muttering, “Yeah, well, don't fucking shoot me again, just watch it. God, it's not that hard to not shoot your teammate.”
“Fine,” that same voice grumbles, “I won't _thoot_ you again. I'm _thorry.”_
It takes everything in you not to hurl your controller at the wall, because if there's one thing no one teases you about, it's you lisp, god dammit. That asshole must have some balls if he's going to mock you like that.
(And yeah, that gravelly voiced guy is laughing at his mockery of you, but he's just the gravelly voiced guy. You've played with him a bit and he just laughs at everything, he's just that mellow.)
For the rest of the session it's you and Karkat trying to explain to the other two what they're doing is wrong, and by the time you've ended you've gotten more mockery and sent out more threats than you've ever had to at any intercity high school you've attended, and all were aimed to that guy with the wavy “W”s. You're exhausted by the time you finish, and when you get back to the X-Box menu, you throw your controller onto your pillow without shutting anything off and bury your head in you hands. What an asshole he is. You hope you never have to put up with that again.
You're shocked back into consciousness of your surroundings when your television speakers _ding!_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Finally, after about five weeks of stressing about everything and anything, I've got this up and posted, yay!
>
> As you can see, this is just a crappy chapter, I tried too hard and it's kind of OOC but hey, I tried.
>
> Again, any and all complaints or questions can go to iamseahorsedad.tumblr.com.
>
> Keep an eye out for my next publication (you won't regret it, I swear), and until then, I'll see you later!
**Author's Note:**
> Okiee... I've been at this thing for about two weeks now, and I think it's finished - the first chapter, at least. It'll be a slow fic, and all of the Eridan chapters will be twisty and turn-y because, as I see him in this, he's moody, and, like from my personal experiences as a teenager, one thing totally throws him off into another. I'm trying to stay as in character as possible with it, though, and I think I'm doing well? But I'm not actually sure. There is a lot more to this after a bit, I can promise that much. I'm trying! (:
> This fic will also have a lot of texting/messaging, which will always be bolded, text proceeded by the sender's name (or you, if the character of focus is the sender). Any questions? The best place to send them would be my Tumblr (50shadesofnepetaleijon), as I'm not 100% sure how to work AO3.
> Thanks for reading! |
4452ff61979443709c6b8fa80258e6db | ['14fa9614fb604e7e82693a6227f5d6ee'] | Junkie makes a run for it through the back, and Starsky follows. He doesn't look behind him. He knows that Hutch is close. It's dim out the back and Junkie makes a hard right around some crates, heading for the truck bay, and Starsky is around that corner in hot pursuit when another player steps out on his left. This guy is maybe ten years older than junkie, and solid where junkie is skinny, and Starsky realises two things. He's looking at Mac, and he's pinned between two men with guns and Hutch doesn't have a line of fire at either of them.
Hopelessly he fires at Mac, but he's still expecting the heavy thump of another bullet, in his body, just like in the Metro parking-lot, and he feels sick for himself and for Hutch as well. But at least Hutch will know there's two of them. All the gun reports meld into one heavy roll of thunder, and he realises that he's still standing, and he's not hurt. Mac is on the ground, barely hanging on to his gun, and Starsky dashes forward and disarms him, and cuffs him regardless of the whine of pain from the wounded man. He looks towards the truck bay. Hutch is doing the same. Or at least, he's kneeling beside the junkie, who doesn't appear to be moving. Hutch lifts his head and stares at Starsky, and then he nods, more to himself than anything.
Starsky stands. "It's not that I'm not grateful - but how the hell did you do that?"
"Adrenalin is a wonderful thing. And I wasn't that far behind you."
Starsky knows that. Knowing where Hutch is - it's like chess moves, it's like dance. Of course Hutch wasn't that far behind him - but Starsky still can't figure out when or how Hutch got past him to take that shot.
***
Barnes from Homicide comes in making this annoying 'doo-doo doo-doo' noise, and throws a file down in front of Starsky. "Halloween reading, Starsky. What do you think of this?"
"What do I think of what?"
Barnes ignores him and stares around the room. "Where's your better half? He'll enjoy this too."
Starsky realises that he didn't see Hutch go - but he won't be far away. "Taking a leak. Whatcha got?"
"That stiff, Sackett's stiff, the one that Mr Looney-Tunes kept insisting was Hutchinson? Got the same dental work as your blond friend. Is that, or is that not, amazing?"
Starsky grabs the file. "Who authorised the check?"
"Sackett's lawyer put the heat on Archer and the coroner. Apparently he's a little concerned about his client's sanity." Barnes rolls his eyes. "Gee whiz, I wonder why?"
Starsky leans back and forces his face into a smile. "The only amazing thing about this is how it won't go away. It's a real trip." He hands the file back to Barnes. "Thanks for the laugh. I'll be sure to tell Hutch."
Barnes doesn't seem to figure out that he's been dismissed. "Whaddaya think? Coincidence, or deep dark underworld plot?"
"Oh, underworld plot for sure," Starsky says. "Poor fucker." He infuses his voice with weary disgust; he's not interested in this conversation and reminding Barnes that some poor sap is dead successfully sends him on his way, ready to inflict his ghoulish conversation somewhere fucking else. He bends his head to his paperwork, before instinct eventually raises it again.
"Practising your stealth?" he asks.
"So?" Hutch says in a dry, teasing tone. "I bet you never even noticed I was gone."
"No," Starsky says. "No, I didn't."
***
Because it was so clearly murder, the man in the morgue isn't buried immediately, but he can't stay above ground indefinitely. Eventually there's a county burial and all that's left is the photographs and paperwork of a cold case file, and Starsky starts getting a serious itch to look at that file. One night Starsky drops Hutch off, and then he turns around and he drives right back to Metro, and he does a little sweet-talking. It's a skill. A man should use his skills.
He takes the archive box and he empties it out, and he reads the file from cover to cover. Height, build, likely weight, sex, age - they'd all fit Kenneth Hutchinson, as would the dental work. The remains of the corpse's clothes would indicate that he was wearing denim jeans, a nylon windbreaker, and a polyester-cotton blend button-down shirt, possibly originally blue in colour from dye analysis of the remains. Starsky stares at the photograph. It's a corpse, more than six months buried in the Southern California dirt, and there's little left that's not bone: some stringy cartilage, some papery stretches of skin here and there.
The only other item in the box is a watch. It's grimed and encrusted with dirt, and the face is stained from contact with corruption and the elements. It has engraving on the back, barely visible: PKH, and a date, 17th May 1917. Starsky doesn't know what the date might signify, but he knows that Hutch's grandfather was called Paul Kenneth Hutchinson, and he knows that he's seen a watch very like this in his partner's hand.
He puts it all away, and he goes home and he gets so drunk that he has to call in sick the next morning. Hutch can drive himself for a change.
***
Nicky never could help himself; wrong people, wrong place, wrong time. And there's never a good time for a funeral.
Starsky sits hunched in his seat. He's not even that tall, certainly not as long in the leg as Hutch, and he still feels claustrophobic - and cold. "You'd think," he gripes, "that with the price that you pay for airline tickets that they could do something about the air conditioning. I'm freezing."
"Can't say I've noticed it," Hutch says. "Think of it as hardening you for that NYC winter." | ffe9351c8af449db805ee68d19742792 | ['14fa9614fb604e7e82693a6227f5d6ee'] | "You're a perfect ray of sunshine," Starsky says, and digs into the bottom of his packet of peanuts for the last crumbs.
"That's me," Hutch says. It's almost literal. The light from the window catches Hutch's hair and makes a transparent, golden nimbus out of it.
"I haven't said thank you, yet," Starsky says, folding the peanut wrapper over and over.
"You don't have to." Hutch turns his head away to stare out at the sun above and the clouds below. "I wouldn't let you do this alone."
"Yeah." Starsky pauses and then asks his question. "You never did think much of Nicky, did you?"
Hutch keeps looking out the window. "He was your brother and you loved him. What I think doesn't come into the equation."
"He wasn't worth much." Starsky swallows painfully. "At least, not as much as he should have been." He rests his head on the seatback and stares up at the little reading light, the ventilation funnel, the button to call the stewardess. "It's gonna kill Ma."
Hutch turns back, and there's a gentle smile on his face. "She still has you." He shrugs. "It's terrible that she has to face this, but.... She's _your_ mother. I think she's tougher than you give her credit."
Yes, Starsky thinks, we're a tough little family, and look where being tough got Nicky. The stupid shit, he thinks, and that smouldering anger is what gets him through the airplane flight, and the disembarking at JFK, and the taxi to his mother's apartment in Queens, with Hutch a silent presence beside him.
His mother's friend, Shirley Nussbaum, lets them inside. She hugs him and murmurs, "She's not so good, Davey," and gravely shakes hands with Hutch. "But you're cold," she says. "The weather has been so nasty all week here."
Starsky approaches his mother. "Boychik," she says, her face drawn with misery, and he just drops to his knees in front of her, and buries his face against her breast. It's the right thing to do. She needs to cradle the child she has left, and she cries for while, rocking them both.
In the background, he can hear Hutch and Shirley talking quietly, neither of them embarrassed. That's why Shirley is good for his mother, and Hutch is good for him.
Knowing that Hutch is there carries him through. It carries him through the prayers and the interment. Hutch is nearby, sombre and respectful in a dark suit that Starsky doesn't remember seeing before, his bright hair capped with a borrowed yarmulke. Hutch's presence carries him through conversation with the relatives and friends who come bearing food and ritual consolation.
Late in the evening when everyone else is gone, his mother still sits quietly on the sofa, her eyes far away, a cooling cup of tea held in her lap. She turns to Starsky and says, "It's late. Go tell your friend to go to bed. You too, Davey."
"Okay, Ma," he says, her obedient Jewish son who she well knows is ignorant of the interior of any synagogue on the west coast, and kisses her. She strokes his cheek, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "When you go back, you'll be careful?"
"I promise," he says.
Hutch is in the kitchen, out of sight from the living room, and being useful. It amuses Starsky that a man who's so often careless about his own housekeeping is so very punctilious about other people's. Kenneth Hutchinson, the careful guest. The remains of the junk mail that Hutch used earlier to wrap the food scraps lies on the kitchen table. "Cute coincidence. You wore it better," Starsky says, as he realises that he saw the suit and tie in the picture on Hutch that afternoon. "You could always fall back on modelling if this cop thing doesn't work out."
Hutch looks disconcerted as he checks out the advertisement, and then he grins disarmingly. "Only if Mr Tyrone takes my pictures."
"I dunno. I think I lost my stepladder." Starsky swallows. He's tired and he's getting stupidly sentimental with it. "You and I are under orders to go to bed like good boys." He heads to the little bedroom that he used to share with Nicky a very long time ago. The mirror on the dresser is covered, shrouded in respect for death like his baby brother, and he stands in front of it and takes off his watch and his rings. His hands shake, so he presses them against the scarred wooden top of the dresser, but they don't stop shaking, and neither do his shoulders.
He stands there and cries silently for only a few seconds before Hutch is there. "Oh, Starsk," he says, sounding as wretched as Starsky feels, and takes the hand that's not covering Starsky's face and holds it tight, the way that Starsky held his mother's hand earlier that day. Hutch's hand is cold, but that doesn't matter. Maybe, Starsky thinks, he'll get Shirley to knit Hutch some fingerless gloves, like the old men used to wear in the winter.
It takes a long time for Starsky to quietly cry himself out, and all the time Hutch grips his hand and says nothing more. After a while, Hutch lets go and brings back a white handkerchief from Starsky's bag. Starsky blows his nose, hoping that he's not too noisy. Sound travels and he doesn't want to disturb his mother.
"Better get to bed, buddy," Hutch says softly. Somewhere along the way he's changed into his own sleeping clothes - an old t-shirt and sweat pants, in deference to his guest status.
Starsky nods his agreement, and gets undressed and climbs under the covers, trying to get warm. Hutch turns the light out and they lie there in the dark. Hutch's breathing is so quiet that it's as if he's not there at all, but Starsky knows he'll see him when he wakes, and that? That's the only important thing. The only one.
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this story for LINK, a Halloween/horror story challenge. My main prompt was ghost, although I also had a couple of classic horror comics covers for inspiration as well. |
c27ac1d58c3e4e8bb87379b875d1137c | ['15098e10f49940929dc191b3be565a29'] | “Four?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No! Actually, there’s a guy at my school charging--” Michael elbowed him, signaling for him to shut up. “Ouhuskj four hundred?? If you insist."
Jeremy forked over the money, already lowkey regretting this. Gordo reached behind the counter and pulled out a box.
“Ladies running shoes?” Gordo opened the box and pulled out a ziplock baggie containing a small gray pill.
“Just so we're clear: this is untested technology, and it's not exactly legal. Which is why you're paying for it with cash in the back of a shoe store. I take no responsibility for what you might do with it or what it might do with you.” He thrust the baggie into Jeremy’s hand.
“What might it--”
“To activate, take it with Mountain Dew. I don't know why, just something about Mountain Dew. And, this is important-- WE’RE SOLD OUT!” Jeremy turned and saw Jenna Rolan standing in the doorway of the store.
“Of...shoes?” she said, looking confused.
“Oh,” Gordo exhaled heavily, “you’re here for shoes. My bad.” He turned his head back towards Jeremy. “Scram kid.”
“Wait! You were saying something important!”
“Oh yeah! All sales final.” He walked off to Jenna, talking about the new pumps they got in or something.
* * *
Jeremy and Michael were sitting in the food court, examining the pill in front of them.
“I hope you’re worth four hundred dollars…”
“Four hundred and one,” Michael corrected. “Don’t forget the Mountain Dew.”
“If this is real,” Jeremy looked up at Michael, “my whole life could change. We should split it. You helped me get it! We should both benefit.”
“I don’t think it works that way. Besides,” Michael reached over and patted Jeremy’s arm, “I like knowing that when you’re cool, you’ll owe me.”
“All right.” Jeremy picked up the pill and uncapped his Mountain Dew. “Here goes...everything.” He put the pill on his tongue, took a swig of the Mountain Dew, and swallowed.
“How does it taste?”
“Minty.”
“How do you feel?” Michael seemed expectant.
“Like...a chump!”
“Nothing?! At all?! Try to say something cool!”
“I think I just blew my bar mitzvah money on a wintergreen tic tac,” Jeremy huffed.
“Yeah…” Michael nodded, “not cool.”
“Just leave me alone to mourn in my chili fries forever,” Jeremy said, his head falling onto the table.
“Five minutes.”
“Where are you going?” Jeremy rolled his head to the side to look at Michael, who was already on his way out.
“The guy in Spencer’s Gifts is hooking me up with a case of Crystal Pepsi! It’s like regular Pepsi _only clear_!!!!”
“Wasn’t that discontinued in the 90s??” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable with the table smushing his face.
“That’s what makes it so awesome!!! I’ll see you in fi--”
“Wait.” Jeremy could not believe he was about to do this.
“What is it?” Michael seemed a little surprised.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, buddy? You can tell me anything.” Jeremy stood up to face Michael
“I...I--” Jeremy started shaking. More than he normally did in this kind of situation. He had a stabbing pain in his head that caused him to double over, screaming. He heard a voice.
_Target Male: inaccessible._
“Jeremy?!” Michael dropped to his knees to see what was wrong. Jeremy noticed a crowd beginning to form around them.
_Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort._
“MILD?!”
“Jeremy, what’s wrong?” There were too many people all speaking at once, too many voices in his head. He heard Michael worrying, he heard that voice telling him all these things, he heard people from the crowd.
“Dude, the freak’s freaking out!”
"Shut up, dickweed!" He heard Michael yell.
_Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated._
Jeremy sat up.
“I’m fine! I’m fine, I just need to--”
_Discomfort level may increase._
Jeremy stood up, feeling the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. He needed to get _away_. He ran as far as he could away from the crowd, holding his head. His body spasming like crazy.
_Accessing: neural memory. Accessing: muscle memory. Access procedure: complete. Jeremy Heere, welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor._
Suddenly, a young man appeared in front of Jeremy as the pain subsided.
_Your SQUIP._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Now that the SQUIP is here, expect more mentions of Michael's Hair.
6. Be More Chill: Part One
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jeremy gets a Coolness Lesson.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Jeremy's thoughts at the SQUIP are gonna be in both bold and italics so fuckkkkkk me.
“You look like Keanu Reeves.” Jeremy stood against the wall, shocked at the sight of the man before him.
_ My default setting _ , he replied. _ You can also set me for, _ here he morphed before Jeremy’s eyes.
_ Sean Connery. _ He changed again.
_ Jack Nicholson _ . He changed once more, but this time he looked like Hatsune Miku??
_Sexy anime female._ He held his hand up to his mouth and did an anime laugh like, “ahuhu!!”
“Keanu’s fine,” Jeremy said as the SQUIP changed back to his default setting. “Can...can everyone see you??”
_ I exist only in your mind. All they see is you, having an animated conversation with yourself. _ Jeremy looked around and saw that he WAS, in fact, getting a few stares. _ So don’t do that. Just think at me, like you’re telepathic. _
Jeremy decided to try it. **_Like in X-Men??_ **
_ I can see this is going to be difficult. You want to be more chill. _
**_You mean cool??_** Jeremy tried to keep his face neutral so people wouldn’t think he was crazy.
_ I do not. You see, human social activity is governed by rules and I have the processing capacity to understand those rules. And to pass them on to you. _
**_Well,_ ** Jeremy felt SUPER awkward, **_being cool isn’t the ONLY reason I got you._ ** | 0611c704aa0b4388a7ae8ddb965758c4 | ['15098e10f49940929dc191b3be565a29'] | "Evolution is survival of the fittest, right? But now, because of technology, you don't have to be strong to survive! Which means there's never been a better time in history to be a loser! So own it. Why try to be cool when you could be--" At this point Jeremy had stopped listening again, instead focusing on the poster behind Michael's gorgeous hair.
"Signing up for the school play!"
"I was gonna say 'getting stoned in my basement,' but..."
"No, I mean," Jeremy directed Michael's attention to the poster, "look who's signing up for the school play! Christine Canigula!"
Michael looked almost disappointed, Jeremy looked at Christine. Something felt wrong about it, though. He looked back at Michael's Hair and realized what it was. Using Christine to hide his sexual feelings for Michael's Hair was wrong. He didn't want to hide it anymore. But what would Michael say if he knew Jeremy still felt that way about his Hair? Jeremy didn't say anything out loud but silently made a vow to ask out Michael's Hair before the end of the semester. He would make love to that Hair again.
2. I Love Play Rehearsal
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> I dont know why im doing this
Looking back on it, Jeremy didn't know why he thought this would help him fuck Michael's Hair.
After making the decision to love that hair once more, he rushed over to the sign-up sheet for the play. He wrote his name down as quickly as possible, ignoring the homophobic insults from Rich. Jeremy has no fucking clue why he did this, though, because Michael did not sign up for the play. He literally BLEW OFF PLANS WITH MICHAEL FOR THIS. He felt like a moron.
But there Jeremy was, standing before Christine Canigula and internally cursing himself.
"Umm..." Jeremy needed to break the silence. "Is this where you meet for the play?"
"No," replied Christine, who was looking at him like he was an idiot, "this is where you meet for the swim team." Jeremy started freaking out. He knew it didn't sound right, but what if that WAS where the swim team started meetings? What if the location for the rehearsal had moved somewhere else and nobody told him? Was there even a play going on? Where was he? WHO WAS CHRISTINE CANIGULA??
"I'm joking!" Jeremy felt even stupider. Of _course_ she was joking. He needed to say something.
"Uh, well--I'm JeReMy!" He did an awkward pointing motion towards himself with his thumb and leaned forward on one leg. _FUCKING MORON!!!!!_ "I mean..."
"Are you okay?"
Jeremy made a noise that sounded something like: Hnhnnnhh?????? Think how teenage girls writing fanfic describe moaning, but waaaay more awkward.
"You seem nervous." Christine looked concerned, which Jeremy understood. He was defo sweating a lot.
"Um...no? I always," at this moment, Jeremy knew he fucked up, "sweat...this much."
Christine looked as if she was coming to understand something. "I get it, you're a virgin!" Jeremy made a choking noise. "First play rehearsal!"
"You think I'm nervous about play rehearsal?"
"Yeah, why else would you be shaking?" She eyed him over. "Like, a lot?"
Jeremy laughed awkwardly and said, "Yeahhh, totally freaked!"
"It’s okay." She patted him on the arm. "I’m a little jealous actually. You never forget your first...play rehearsal!! Coming here is the highlight..."
Jeremy, probably seeming far too desperate, cut her off very quickly. "Of your day?
"Yeah, right. Of my life!!!!!" Here, Christine broke into song spontaneously in true theater-kid fashion.
"I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL
BECAUSE IT’S THE BEST
BECAUSE IT IS FUN
I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL
AND I GET DEPRESSED
AS SOON AS IT’S DONE
BUT NOT DEPRESSED AS IN, LIKE, “KILL YOURSELF” DEPRESSED
NO, I’M NOT INTO SELF HARM
DUDE, I SWEAR, HERE, CHECK MY ARM
SEE, I JUST USED THE WORD TO EMPHASIZE A POINT
TO SHOW THE PASSION THAT I’VE GOT
I AM PASSIONATE A LOT
AND I HAVE MAD GIGANTIC FEELINGS
RAD AND FRANTIC FEELINGS
ABOUT MOST EVERYTHING
LIKE GUN CONTROL, LIKE SPRING
LIKE IF I’M LIVING UP TO ALL I’M MEANT TO BE
I ALSO HAVE A TOUCH OF ADD
WHERE WAS I?, OH, RIGHT
I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL
CUZ YOU ARE EQUIPPED
WITH DIRECTIONS AND TEXT
LIFE IS EASY IN REHEARSAL
YOU FOLLOW A SCRIPT
SO YOU KNOW WHAT COMES NEXT
ANYHOO, THE POINT THAT I’M GETTING TO IS
SOMETIMES LIFE CAN’T WORK OUT IN THE WAY
IT WORKS OUT IN THE PLAY
LIKE THE ONLY TIME I GET TO BE THE CENTER OF ATTENTION
IS WHEN I’M JULIET OR BLANCHE DUBOIS AND CAN I MENTION
BE MORE CHILL – Iconis/Tracz Draft: 6/5/15
...that was really one of my best roles, did you see that? I was incredibly
commanding, I think. It made me feel like there just aren’t strong roles for
women in theater these days, particularly high school theater, do you find that?
Because I totally find that—
AND NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY
IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW DOWN THE MANY REASONS WHY
I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL
I HAPPINESS CRY
WHENEVER IT STARTS
ITS JUST SO UNIVERSAL
GETTING TO TRY
PLAYING SO MANY PARTS
MOST HUMANS DO ONE THING FOR ALL OF THEIR LIVES
THE THOUGHT OF THAT GIVES ME HIVES
I’VE GOT SO MANY INTERESTS I WANT TO PURSUE
AND WHY MY TELLING THIS TO YOU?
GUESS THERE’S A PART OF ME THAT WANTS TO¨
JEREMY perked up. "Really?"
¨There’s also a part of me that wants to do this. (CHRISTINE makes a crazy,
goblin freak-out noise!) So I did it!"
JEREMY replied only with an "Uh..."
CHRISTINE kept singing. ¨BACK TO PLAY REHEARSAL
MY BRAIN IS LIKE BZZZZ
MY HEART IS LIKE WOW
BECAUSE WE’RE HERE AT PLAY REHEARSAL
AND IT’S STARTING
WE’RE STARTING
IT’S STARTING
SOON
OOO"
Nothing interesting happened at all after that, really. Mr. Reyes said they were doing a zombie version of _“A Midsummer |
86ce88aa4efa441e8d3ae356d97d5f3a | ['1512c18332b741ea832236f2041804e3'] | “What is he so rude for?” Minhyuk says with a big grin on his face, it’s one of his fake innocent faces that he uses when he’s being naughty on camera. He’s hyper aware that Hyungwon’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist, it’s such a little detail that’s making his heart flip. With fond eyes he watches as the younger man laugh sincerely, mouth open with amusement sparkling in his eyes from Minhyuk’s obvious question
The minutes later they fall in a comfortable silence. There’s a kind of heartwarming glow that stays after both of them had a good laugh and are slowly falling into their own world with their own inside jokes and the wordless knowing glances. This, this was one of those moments.
Hyungwon’s still hasn’t let go of his wrist but soon enough they’re both on their feet. The younger is now guiding Minhyuk to the bedroom he shared with Hyunwoo and Hoseok, but both older men were out and about.
If Kihyun had heard the door creaking open and suddenly closing shut then he gave no indication, or he didn’t care to pry. The dorm continued to stay silent whilst Hyungwon and Minhyuk locked themselves up in the privacy of the room.
The moment Hyungwon lets go of his wrist and faces him, Minhyuk wraps his arms around Hyungwon’s broad shoulders and gives the younger man a quick peck on his full lips. It’s innocent and sweet, not even lasting a couple of seconds.
Minhyuk feels Hyungwon’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist in the laziest Hyungwon like manner. Long limbs wrapped around Minhyuk’s lithe figure as Minhyuk lets his fingers brush slowly at Hyungwon’s nape where his hair ends. It’s tender and he runs his fingers a bit slower on the parts that were obviously newly shaven.
“Why the pink hair?” Minhyuk grins. He’s facing Hyungwon but he lets his concentration focus on the fluffy mop of hair that his boyfriend now has in exchanged for the sinfully dark red he was sporting just hours ago.
If Hyungwon had told him he was getting a dye job that day he would have given up his shopping trip if only to accompany his lover in getting this beautiful new color.
“They gave me a couple options. I don’t know what inspired me to choose this.” Hyungwon speaks carefully but with an amused tone. For the life of him, Minhyuk doesn’t know if his boyfriend was playing him or not.
As far as he knew, the younger never usually jumped the gun of dyeing random hair colors unless the company had asked for a specific one or when he’d been fixated on a color for what seemed like months of pondering about it.
Hyungwon wasn’t Jooheon or Wonho who loved experimenting on hair dye, nor was he Minhyuk who was always forced to have extreme hair color changes one comeback after the other.
This fresh hair color being Hyungwon’s own choice was a surprise to him. It brings back memories of Hyungwon’s platinum long hair from years back and Minhyuk wanted nothing more than to compliment him endlessly. Of course he wouldn’t be Minhyuk if he didn’t tease his lover for a bit.
“By any chance, were you inspired by Kihyun’s pink hair?” He locks eyes with Hyungwon and he feels the younger’s hold on him shift. The arms that were originally lazily wrapped around him are suddenly exchanged for warm large hands gripping on both sides of his hips. They’re both pulling each other closer and closer until their clothed chests are touching and Minhyuk swears the room temperature rose up by just a couple of degrees.
“Babe, Kihyun as an inspiration…that’s just horrible.”
“You’re right. Well then tell me what inspired you because I need to thank them.”
Hyungwon leans in and kisses the center of Minhyuk’s forehead, the spot where the older man’s blond bangs are parted. When Minhyuk looks up to get a glimpse of his boyfriend’s face, he sees the goofy smile that Minhyuk loved the most.
“Freedom…maybe? I’m really not sure, but the color, it seemed different. I almost picked blond again but I thought of you.”
“You didn’t want to be blond twins with me again?” Minhyuk smiles cheekily. Hyungwon makes a show of pulling a disgusted face as he remembers their Rush promotions where he had Minhyuk’s hair color and the stylists had the great idea of frying their blond hair half of the time.
“Never. The goal is to have complimenting hair colors.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Minhyuk untangles his arms resting on top of Hyungwon’s shoulder. He lets a sound of glee pass from his mouth as his fingers comb through the soft locks of Hyungwon’s light pink hair. It’s so soft and light it reminds him of cotton candy and sugar. The whole process of bleaching and coloring didn’t seem to affect the naturally healthy hair.
He looks at the way the hair cut perfectly suits the shape of Hyungwon’s face. The way most of his newly styled bangs just falls on the right side of his face, and it’s long enough to have enough volume to project the look of sexy tousled and fluffy hair.
“You look so good Won.”
Minhyuk whispers feverishly. He removes his hands from Hyungwon’s hair and brings them down. He’s cupping the younger’s face and takes a look at Hyungwon’s eyes before bringing the younger’s face lower and he goes and kisses him again.
This time it’s with enough passion that Minhyuk feels an imaginary spark coursing between him and Hyungwon and the later kisses him back with the same intensity. It’s a close mouthed kiss and slowly Minhyuk feels Hyungwon smile against his lips. Bravely, he takes little steps while softly pushing, almost guiding Hyungwon to the center of the room. | ef3ea2ada47a4670bd0ad85fbb579425 | ['1512c18332b741ea832236f2041804e3'] | Minhyuk’s opens his mouth and he groans as the first thing Hyungwon decides to do is teasingly bite on his lower lip. There’s a soft sucking sensation and he hopes his heart doesn’t beat out of his chest because having Hyungwon’s face so close to his with his new hair was a whole sensation of its own. Before he could react further he feels a tongue on his and suddenly Hyungwon is exploring his mouth and Minhyuk pulls him in further to do the same.
Somewhere along the kissing, sucking, biting and licking their lips together they’ve let go on each other’s hands. In between breathing and looking at each other with a dazed expression of bliss and wonder, Minhyuk’s again cupping Hyungwon’s face with one hand.
He thinks it’s absolutely beautiful how Hyungwon’s full lips is slightly bruised from Minhyuk’s soft bites. The swollen pink thing is shining with a coat of their combined saliva and spit, the only thing Minhyuk could think about it having Hyungwon against his lips again.
He’s busy silently worshipping the other’s lips when he feels a warm hand creeping under his shirt. Familiar fingers leave warm hand prints over his navel, his stomach, his chest and he whines as they stop just over the tip of Minhyuk’s nipple. He’s sure it’s the younger’s thumb and index finger playfully pulling on his left nipple. It feels like a game and Hyungwon’s playing with him as the younger twists his nipple is an embarrassingly slow manner.
Minhyuk reaches for Hyungwon’s free hands and kisses the man’s knuckles lovingly. He looks at the younger’s dark eyes and adjusts his hold on Hyungwon’s hand. He brings it closer to his mouth just enough so he could go on licking the tips of Hyungwon’s long fingers obscenely. Every streak of his tongue is effectively leaving a coat of saliva on the sensitive tips of his lover’s middle, ring and index finger.
Hyungwon watches in fascination and with dark eyes and he’s letting Minhyuk do as he pleases as he continues to make Minhyuk’s nipple roll in between his thumb and index finger.
When he removes his fingers from the equally swollen bud, he hears Minhyuk groan. He pays no mind as he fists on Minhyuk’s shirt and makes the thin yellow fabric ride up just enough for it to show the older man’s left nipple. It was ridiculous view.
Without saying anything Hyungwon leans down and sucks on the one exposed nipple, tongue lapping on it hungrily like a kitten does to milk. It’s lewd and sensual and loves the way his hot breath fans over the flush of Minhyuk’s skin.
He feels Minhyuk’s whole body squirm underneath him and pays no mind to the series of curses being thrown to him. He chuckles as he looks at his work; Minhyuk’s pink bud standing erect with Hyungwon’s spit all over it. He helps himself and pinches the little knob lovingly.
“Cute” he whispers to Minhyuk but mostly to the sweet little nipple in particular.
Minhyuk squirms, his legs clamped shut and he’s twisting to the side in an attempt to hide his growing erection that’s straining his jeans. It dawns on him that he hasn’t even changed clothes yet and he’s already having his nipple sucked in someone else’s bed.
“Hyungwonnie, stop that.” He whispers tiredly. Feeling absolutely exposed and indecent. It’s clear that they’re not stopping anytime soon as Hyungwon fists on his shirt higher, effectively leaving both of his nipples out on display.
“Shhh baby. What are you being so loud for?”
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: Take a shot every time I speed write a really bad idea at 5am.
>
> I'm a huge supporter of Pink Haired Hyungwon and Hyunghyuk in general, peace. |
1bd1fd217b52419290f7a562ee68a86e | ['1571cf743a9d4f27994d4a45650e0543'] | This is one of the things they haven’t tried yet. Steve had planned to wait a bit longer before asking for outside help with Bucky’s triggers, to give them time to work past it with just the two of them. It hasn’t happened yet, though, and having the X-Men show up at his door feels like a sign.
“That’s actually probably our dog you’re sensing,” he tells them. “I’m sure he’d love to meet you, but first – Bucky?” Steve calls over his shoulder, “can you come here, please?”
5. Chapter 5
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i added some stuff onto the end of chapter four cause i wasn't super happy with where it ended. so go read that first!
“We can do that,” Jean says, “but it won’t be easy.”
She’s explaining their options while Xavier scratches behind Magnus’ ears, the dog sprawled across his lap. They both look deep in thought. _Can he telepathically communicate with dogs?_ Steve wonders. _Is that possible? What do a dog’s thoughts sound like? Can he tell if he likes it here? I should ask if the brand of kibble we’re buying is okay, or if he’d prefer something else._
“It’s not as simple as one of us just going in and removing the brainwashing triggers,” she continues, interrupting his reverie. “Anything that we could have handled in that way, the two of you have already worked most of the way through on your own. What remains, the compulsion to obey… that’s more deeply seated.”
“You said you can do it, though,” Steve says.
“We can. Or, really, we can start the process. Whether it succeeds will be up to Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky circles his wrist in a “get on with it” hand gesture. Jean sighs. “We’ll have to send you deep into your own unconscious mind. You’ll be in a trance-like state, and won’t awaken until you’ve removed the programming.”
“How?”
“Your mind should naturally lead you to the source. Once you’re there, the experience is different for everyone. Sometimes it involves reliving the memories in question, but not necessarily. You might even have to ‘defeat your demons’ in literal combat.” She makes air quotes.
Bucky nods, then hesitates. Finally, he says: “What happens if I can’t beat it?”
“You can,” Steve says. He takes a step closer to Bucky, trying to somehow lend him some confidence by proximity.
“Okay,” Bucky says, still sounding dubious, “but what if I can’t?”
Jean bites her lip. She’s very young, and the gesture makes her look even younger. “We can try to extract you. But there’s no guarantee it’ll work, or that it won’t just make things worse. If we don’t do that… you’ll remain in a catatonic state. Permanently.”
Steve and Bucky both stare at her in horror.
Jean chews her lip some more. “We could send you both? You’d both be able to interact with each other and the environment.” She looks at Steve. “You could keep him from losing himself. But if it doesn’t work, neither of you will wake up.”
“I’ll do it,” Steve says.
“The hell you will.” Bucky’s standing straight up, fists clenched at his sides.
The impulse to yell “the hell I won’t” right back is pretty strong, but Steve pushes it down. It might be nostalgic, but it won’t get them anywhere. He glances at Jean, and at Xavier, who seems to still be communing with their dog. “Can you give us a moment?”
Steve pulls Bucky into his bedroom, just by virtue of it being the closest room with a door. He calmly closes the door, calmly locks it, calmly turns to Bucky and says: “I’m going with you.”
Bucky sneers. “That an order?”
Steve sits down on the bed. “You know it’s not. We don’t have to try this at all if you don’t want to. But if you do, I oughta be there. Trying to do it alone’s an unnecessary risk.”
“You wanna talk about _unnecessary risk,”_ Bucky scoffs and leans his back against the door. “Puttin’ Captain America in a coma over some nobody with Swiss cheese for brains; that’s your _unnecessary risk.”_
“You’re not nobody, Buck.”
“Bullshit I’m not. Not compared to the rest of the _entire world.”_ Bucky pushes off the door, spreads his arms wide. “Look at me. Are you really gonna tell me one man – especially one who’s done the things I have – needs you more than your country? More than the planet?”
“You’re already assuming we’re going to fail. That’s not gonna hap –“
_“What if it does.”_
Bucky takes a deep breath. All of the anger and hostility seem to flow out of him on the exhale, leaving behind something small and vulnerable. “Look, I just… I can’t be responsible for that happening to you. I couldn’t handle it.”
Steve buries his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. After a moment, he rubs his face and says, “I’m not giving you an order. You can make your own choice. But Bucky, please. I’m begging you.” He swallows. “You’ve – you’ve left me behind so many times before. Not because you wanted to, but… every time I lose you I think it’s the last. Please – you don’t have to, but I just – don’t make me do that again.”
Bucky says nothing. The silence stretches out in long, painful seconds, oppressive and thick. Just as Steve’s about to give in, he feels the other side of the mattress dip. Neither of them moves to say anything for a minute, but the quiet feels different now, soft and fragile.
Finally, Bucky huffs out a sigh, sounding amused. “Guess it’s not the end of the line yet, huh?”
They walk back into the living room together, side by side, arms brushing, casually sharing strength. Magnus bounds off of Xavier’s lap to come headbutt Bucky in the shin. The two psychics look at them expectantly.
“Okay,” Steve says. “We’ll do it.”
**Author's Note:**
> yell at me @lyrishark on tumblr | 3368470a28f14bb1901ede0ffe393c3a | ['1571cf743a9d4f27994d4a45650e0543'] | There was also the first time Magnus tried to comfort him. Aisha had explained that if Bucky were to panic or dissociate, Magnus would try to ground him by licking his cheek or nose. That sounded fine in theory, but nobody anticipated how uncomfortable Bucky would be with things touching his face. He had scrambled away backwards, eyes wide and wild, chest heaving deep staccato breaths. He locked himself in his room for the next 22 hours.
The next time, Magnus used his control over Bucky’s metal arm to pull it over to pet him instead. Steve watched with concern, not sure how Bucky would react to having his body controlled in such a way, but he just clenched his fingers in Magnus’ fur. After several long minutes, he added his other hand, running his fingers through the soft fluff on the dog’s sides.
It still takes a while for Steve to warm up to the idea of a superpowered service dog. His hesitance lasts for several weeks, up until Magnus crawls into his lap while they’re watching a movie. Steve scratches him behind the ears, and Magnus snuffles quietly. That’s when Steve peeks over at Bucky, just in time to see him looking back, smiling for the first time in seventy years.
~ ~ ~
Things have calmed down a lot.
~
Steve knows he’s in over his head, as far as Bucky’s mental state. That’s not news to him, or to anyone. When he’d called this morning, Sam picked up the phone with a “'Bout damn time you admitted you need help,” in place of any sort of greeting. Bucky is going to need more help than Sam’s qualified to offer, but it seemed safer to start with a friend.
Bucky had agreed to talk to Sam, as much as Bucky has agreed to anything lately. Steve had asked if it was okay. Bucky just stared at him.
Thinking maybe that was too much pressure, Steve rephrased. “Sam is going to come over later this morning and talk to you. If that’s not okay, you can tell me and it won’t happen.”
Bucky shrugged. “Additional personnel are frequently required for asset maintenance.”
Steve hadn’t questioned that at the time, but he’s starting to regret it. Bucky’s backed himself up against the wall, feet braced like he’s going to launch himself at Sam at any moment. He’s making a noise that can only be described as a growl. Sam’s hands are lifted into the air by his sides, the rest of his posture friendly and non-threatening. “Nobody’s here to hurt you, Barnes, just chill, okay?”
Bucky doesn’t move, but the way his whole body at once constricts in terror is obvious anyway, at least it is to Steve. Bucky’s jaw clenches, cords standing out in his neck. His pupils flare outwards. “Cannot comply with command,” he grits out. “Current facility does not contain necessary equipment for cryofreeze procedure.”
Sam looks over at Steve, looking just as horrified as Steve feels. He turns back to Bucky, stepping toward him with his hand outstretched. “No, hold up, that’s not what I –“
Bucky steps forward, picks Sam up, and throws him into the wall.
~
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Steve says, patting Sam down for injuries outside. He feels a little guilty about ordering Bucky to stand down, but only a little. “He hasn’t been violent at all since the first day, I thought it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’d tell you the outlook’s not good, but I got a feeling you already know, and you’re not giving up.” Sam grins ruefully. “You know I wanna help you out if I can, but maybe next time I’ll ask Rhodes if I can borrow the War Machine suit first.”
“The War Machine suit is covered in guns, Sam. Maybe you can just talk to Bucky on the Internet. Scape?”
“It’s called Skype, Cap.”
~
When Steve gets back inside, Bucky is nowhere to be seen.
He pokes his head into the kitchen and the study, then makes his way down the hall to the spare room where Bucky sleeps. There’s no noise from inside, but Steve can tell from the handle that it’s locked.
“Bucky?” he calls, “Can you open the door for me, please?” He’s careful to phrase it as a question. He hadn’t been aware of how complete Bucky’s obedience programming was. He still doesn’t have all the details, but given that Bucky’s just shown that he’s compelled to obey even casual slang, it seems wise to be safe.
There’s a long silence from inside, then some shuffling, and at last a click as the door unlocks. It doesn’t swing open, so Steve turns the handle himself and steps inside.
The room is in dim and in disarray. Half of the lamp is embedded in the drywall, the other half scattered in shards across the floor. Several books lay face down on the carpet, missing most of their pages. Bucky is sitting on the end of his bed furthest from the door, facing away, his whole body curled in toward the wall.
Steve sits down on the opposite end of the bed, careful to give Bucky plenty of space. “Nobody’s going to put you in cryofreeze, and nobody’s going to punish you. You shouldn’t have hurt Sam, but you were afraid, and I’m grateful you stopped when I asked. You don’t have to see him again if you don’t want to.”
Bucky turns his head at that, giving Steve a suspicious look from over his shoulder.
“You really don’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” A horrible thought occurs to him. “Bucky… you understand what it means to want something, right?”
Bucky’s brow wrinkles in baffled incredulity. “’Wanting’ is forbidden. To want is for handlers only.” |
b6c3c9c4c7f44adba4dfb296a378d8ac | ['15729bae14ed4688b1792528f58b2c23'] | "Shouldn't we be worried about that?" Idie Okonkwo asked, tiptoeing closer underneath said toddler in case she fell.
"I'm going to get a teacher," Trevor sighed. He paused, glancing back. "That kid, is really familiar, which doesn't make sense since we've never met her, and she doesn't know any of us and OH GOD I THINK SHE'S GONNA JUMP!"
Sure enough, the toddler jumped onto the head of a pink-mohawked boy, starting to play with his curly locks. He yelped, trying to remove the little monster, but only had luck when she was picked up by _another_ kid with a mohawk, this one with being separated into three sections, and belonging to a kid with a purple-hued skin color. The toddler's eyes widened, and she reached forward excitedly, trying to grab his hair too.
"She, really likes mohawks, huh?"
Broo hesitantly stepped over, unsure about whether or not to get closer. He was delighted to find out she wasn't afraid in the slightest, but also terrified to find out she wasn't afraid in the slightest when she tried to cling to him, frustrated when Kid Gladiator didn't let go. She pouted, clearly disappointed. That's when she twisted and bit Kid in the hand. "Aw, that's kind of cute. Huh, she has some cool canines. Think she's a werewolf?"
"Relative of Wolfsbane?" Odie suggested.
"This kid looks Japanese, and Wolfsbane's Irish. I doubt it."
"Ever of heard of mixed families?"
The little girl was bored, and glanced at the pink-haired one, eyes sparkling at his locks once more. He flinched, moving away. "Um, how about I just read her mind, or we do the smart thing and get, oh I don't know, a bloody teacher?"
"Hopefully not bloody," Idie snorted. "Then again knowing some of them..."
The kid sneezed then, the squeak catching all of their attention, as did the blood collecting and blooming through her leather gloves. A couple of the kids there screamed, ending up with Idie holding a bleeding toddler (they removed the gloves to see wounds on her hands), where she was applying cold, Broo babbling out medical information and statistics, and the guys separating by either running off doing who knew what, or getting help.
Broo whimpered, "Idie, when I imagined you holding a baby with me, it wasn't quite like this."
"...What?"
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you're wondering why they didn't see Akiko's claws, she retracted them before they took off the gloves.
12. A Family Tradition
“We’re looking for a baby!?” Shadowcat cried out.
Daken raked a hand through his hair, desperately trying to maintain what little sanity he had left, which was difficult since he didn’t think he had much of any in the first place. “Like I said, her case is similar to Laura’s, okay? Gabby, what happened and where did you see her last?”
“We were watching Signing Time and she was practicing the sign for frog and…Oh crap. I think she might’ve seen Toad outside.”
Said Toad froze and he held his hands up in the air. “Whoa, I haven’t seen any baby around here, okay?”
Jamie Madrox groaned. “All right, what are her abilities, and where could she have gone? I can multiply and set up a perimeter?”
Daken twitched, remembering how the toddler initially reacted to Laura and Gabrielle. “Akiko…Has superhealing, three retractable claws, pheromone control, and possibly telepathy immunity.”
“…”
The stares and clearing of throats made it obvious that it was understood who the parent was. Nightcrawler cleared his throat, shrugging while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Er, zat, explains a lot? Um, congrats?”
Daken didn’t even bother to react to that statement. “We’re not entirely sure what she went through down there. Akiko is _capable_ of speech, but she’s never said a word, and prefers to either communicate through pheromones, sign language, or other gestures. Just be aware of that if you try to talk with or to her.”
Victor nodded. “She also doesn’t like sweet things. She’ll go after granola or raisin cookies, but nothing too strong when it comes to flavors. We suspect that’s because she’s still adjusting her taste buds, and possibly other senses.”
There were a few winces here and there. Xavier grimaced. “Anything else?”
Gabby smiled, “She’s a Spider-Fluff!”
“No she’s not,” Daken and Victor disagreed.
“But she climbs up walls and the ceilings!”
“Oh dear lord,” Gambit groaned, palming his face.
“And she’s teething! She’s got sharp canines so she needs to wear them down every once in a while. She bites and her claws pop out when she sneezes,” Gabby snickered. Daken buried his face in his hands.
Daken buried his face in his hands. He was going to die. He wasn't ashamed of Akiko, but just, why? Wagner was inching closer, a dumb smile on his dumb face. Daken snikted and gestured at him. "Say anything, and you'll be shish-kabobed."
"Oh, you almost forgot the best part!" Deadpool called out from the RV. Oh shit, no. Please no. "She sounds like Pikachu when she sneezes!"
The Dark Wolverine's knuckles cracked, and he sauntered towards Deadpool in a very timely manner, irked by the mercenary's words. "If you say one more thing about Akiko-"
"Um, we need a physical description? You know, besides 'baby'?" Rogue coughed, clearing her throat.
He needed to stab someone. Daken _really_ needed to stab someone. Inhaling, he focused. "Akiko, is approximately three feet tall, has a single-side ponytail, blue jeans, a light brown jacket, a light pink sweater with a flower print - daisies to be exact - and light brown socks. She also has light brown leather boots and gloves, the latter of which is supposed to help conceal her claws for when she's out in public, and she's become accustomed to putting them on herself."
They really needed to stop looking at him like that. Jubilee pursed her lips, "What is it with your family and leather?" | 8fb69e50a2744ce991f755e7a4cc1cf0 | ['15729bae14ed4688b1792528f58b2c23'] | Daken smirked at Ben's misery, and they all looked at him in expectation. "What?"
"So, what's your ASL name?"
His eyes widened. "Er, 'father'. I'm 'father'-"
Akiko began signing, and Daken actually stuttered as she did so. _"I made up his ASL name, but he never uses it. I call him, 'bright teacher', 'cause that's what his name means."_
Her father flushed, and many of the adults drew blank looks. "But Daken means-"
"Okay, that's enough of that," Daken Akihiro interrupted. "Hey, Franklin, do you know another nickname of Akiko's?"
"No, what?"
Daken grinned evilly over at Ben. "Spider-Fluff."
Ben's expression turned to utter horror as Franklin practically leapt over at Akiko. "We're getting my Spiderman costumes."
"Your what?"
Ben groaned, burying his face in his hands, "What have you just unleashed?"
Johnny cackled, while Susan leaned over, whispering to Akiko, "Why are you called Spider-Fluff?"
Akiko figured it was better to show rather than tell. She held up one finger, informing them to give her a moment, and then she began crawling up the walls, even on the ceiling, hanging upside down. Johnny cackled even louder, taking great joy at his family's expressions. It only got better when Franklin entered the room and squealed at the sight, babbling on and on about Spiderman and how cool it was that she could do what she just did. As for Akiko, she was confused, but looked at her father, basically sending him pheromones that asked if she did well. When he confirmed she did, she jumped down, landed on her feet, and took the mask that Franklin offered.
Squinting at it, she remarked, "Looks just like Deadpool's mask. Even comes with The cookie smell."
Daken smacked his forehead. Franklin turned to Valeria, "C'mon, we'll use the drones we made to pretend to be the Green Goblin. Valeria can be her awesome self, and we can be Spidermen!"
Valeria beamed, getting a remote and pressing a button. Akiko heard a whirring sound, and tilted her head. Valeria stepped next to her. "Don't worry, we can destroy them, so have at it."
Akiko stiffened for a moment, then bared part of her canines in a wicked grin. She had a feeling from the adults' reaction it reminded them of either her grandpa or her father. Maybe both. "We can?"
"Yep," Franklin commented, putting on his mask. Akiko did the same with hers, getting into the battle position her father had taught her.
"Action music?" Valeria offered.
"Action music," Akiko and Franklin confirmed.
All of them roared, chasing after the robots.
Daken watched on, a vein visibly pounding in his forehead. Ben sighed, "Beer?"
"Beer," Daken confirmed, "And Tylenol. Massive Tylenol.
* * *
Peter Parker had gotten a request from Johnny Storm to visit the Baxter Building to see Franklin, again. Peter loved the Fantastic kids, and he was more than glad to see them, but what he didn't expect, was for Valeria to be shooting lasers down the halls, or for two kids dressed like him to plow into him.
He caught them in time, rolling. Groaning, he sat up, and dusted himself off. "Are you kids okay?"
"SPIDERMAN!" Franklin said. "What are you doing here?"
The other kid was absolutely still as Franklin hugged him, and Peter chuckled, hugging him back. "Nice to see you too, squirt. Johnny invited me over and, here I am. So, what's up?"
"My new friend's come over for a visit. She's kind of shy and prefers to use sign language. We were just playing 'Spiderman' just now."
He knelt down, " _Hello. What's your name?"_
"... _A-K-I-K-O."_
She then showed him her sign name, and his smile was visible through the mask. "Nice to meet you, Akiko."
"Her nickname is Spider-Fluff. Go on, Akiko. Show him what you can do."
The kid twiddled her thumbs for a moment, but then approached a wall, and began to scale it, sitting up on the ceiling. Peter grew nervous. He hoped she wasn't another clone of his. "That's, really cool, Akiko."
"She's from the Xavier Academy," Franklin quickly said, likely guessing Peter's thoughts. "She's uh, not related to you if you're worried about that."
Akiko looked surprised, and began frantically signing so quickly that Spiderman couldn't understand any of it. He asked her to slow down, chuckling at her anxiety. He shook his head, "Whoa, calm down. I'm not mad or anything, just a little worried. Some people have actually cloned me and, it wasn't easy for them. I didn't want you to have to go through the same thing."
There was a long pause, and Franklin was clearly uncomfortable with something. Oh God, was she actually a clone? "Wait, are you-?"
*SNIKT*
"...Oh. So, so you're related to Logan," Peter uttered.
So, either he had sex, or he had another clone made. The latter Peter was more willing to believe. Then again, Daken existed, so it was possible she was Logan's kid, just highly unlikely. He smiled once more at seeing her anxiety. It was strange, seeing a Wolverine that was shy. It reminded him of the rare side of Laura. Yet, he'd never seen one so young. How old was this one? He really, really wanted to take a picture. She was cute, even if he couldn't see her face.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he said. "Pinky Swear."
She looked at his pinky, and giggled. "No wonder Uncle Deadpool likes you so much."
Peter was so glad he had a mask at that moment.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry if the other characters seem a little OOC. I don't have much experience writing the Fantastic Four, and I've been trying to do research on the more recent comics (I think I'd do better on the older versions), but the idea was to have Akiko make some knew friends, and to bring up some more of Daken's past.
>
> BTW, more of Logan's kin are coming soon.
> |
47420a06fb1d44c4bd7b05ad9cd839a2 | ['1572d922c0fe4161bf3de5459865133c'] | Taehyung looked like he hadn’t slept for days but Jeongguk thought he had never looked so beautiful—his heart swelling because it was him that had made Taehyung worry this much. It was him that made Taehyung skip his exams just so he could stay beside him.
Jeongguk was suffocating, drowning, his mind reeling as he realized just how much he loved Taehyung—how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the boy now hunched over next to him, one hand clutching Jungkook’s cold one. Jeongguk was suddenly hit with the urge to kiss Taehyung's frown away, and right at that moment Taehyung raised his head, his eyes fluttering open.
“Jeongguk?” Taehyung small voice cut through the silence, and before Taehyung can say more Jeongguk was pulling him closer by his nape and his lips were pressed against Taehyung's, his tongue brushing eagerly over the other's.
The kiss was messy and hurried but it was all kinds of perfect, Jeongguk's lips chasing Taehyung's in a frantic need to say that “yes, Taehyung, I love you too. I've loved you all this time, I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself fall.” He only pulled away when he felt hot tears on his cheeks, and he realized Taehyung was crying.
“J–Jeongguk, your eyes. It's such a beautiul color—oh my God, there are so many beautiful colors.” Taehyung whispered, his lips trembling.
“Shut up and kiss me again, Kim Taehyung.”
They kissed again, and this time the kiss was deep, slow and deliberate, Jeongguk's fingers tangled in Taehyung's hair.
———
Blue was his mother's eyes; blue was the cover of the book Seokjin—Namjoon's boyfriend—threw at him and Taehyung when they finally told everyone they were soul partners.
Blue was the bear plushie Jeongguk won Taehyung on their first official date; blue was Jeongguk's sweater when he proposed to Taehyung.
Blue was Jimin's shoes when Jeongguk asked him to be his best man.
Blue was the color of Taehyung's sheets they made love against, the night right after Jeongguk proposed; blue was the the marks Jeongguk left on Taehyung's neck, Taehyung's chest, Taehyung's thighs—Taehyung's mind.
Blue was the color of Jeongguk's wedding suit, the widest smile on his face when he said “I do” on the altar and when he kissed Taehyung after.
There were so many colors in the world and they both were blessed with the ability to see all of them, but Jeongguk's favorite will always be blue.
Because it reminded him of the times he was patient with himself and with his feelings for Taehyung. Because it reminded him of all the years he wondered and in his wishful heart he hoped he would meet with his soul partner. Because blue was the cast he had around his leg the day Taehyung finally started to see other colors.
Blue was the sky when he wrapped his arms around Taehyung and said for the first time, without doubt,
“I am so in love with you, Taehyung.”
**Author's Note:**
> This was just a brain vomit on Twitter but then I realized it's long enough to be posted lmao so here it is! I hope you enjoyed that. This is only my second work so comments and critiques are highly appreciated! | c663d62c8b204194b721ac623a4087ec | ['1572d922c0fe4161bf3de5459865133c'] | It's Here, and It's You
“Jungkook?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you were supposed to be doing your essay?”
Taehyung takes his eyes off the screen of his laptop to look at his boyfriend who currently has his cheek pressed against his shoulder and his arms around the older’s waist. Just ten minutes ago Jungkook waved him off when Taehyung invites him to watch a movie he’s been assigned to watch by his lecturer. He said something about having to finish an essay because it’s due tomorrow, and that Mr. Jung is never fond of receiving late essay submissions. Taehyung understood, of course, as also still has classes with Mr. Jung.
But Jungkook is now snuggled up against his boyfriend on the bed, his hair is tickling Taehyung’s neck and his palm that has somehow made its way under Taehyung’s shirt is warm against his bare stomach. Too warm. And Jungkook obviously is—
“But I am doing my essay.”
— _not_ doing his essay. And is that Taehyung’s sweater he’s wearing?
“Baby, last I checked doing your essay consists of writing and doing research, and not cuddling with your boyfriend, which you are, in fact, doing right now.”
Instead of replying, Jungkook reaches up to card his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, a gesture he seems to love doing. He lets his big, warm hand rest on Taehyung’s cheeks. Taehyung is starting to get flustered under Jungkook’s gaze, the kind that he would give after they have just had a slow sex or when they both have just woken up and his face is hit with a stream of the morning light. It’s the kind that makes warmth spread throughout his chest and his cheeks. It’s the kind that makes Taehyung feels like he’s the only thing that matters in the whole world, and he doesn’t understand why Jungkook is looking at him with such gaze, right now, when he’s supposed to be thinking of his damned essay.
Taehyung is thinking about punching Jungkook’s chest or anything to get Jungkook off him when the latter decides to open his mouth.
“Mr. Jung assigned us to write an essay about the most beautiful things in the world.” Jungkook says in a whisper, and the little devil finally lowers his gaze. Another five seconds and Taehyung might just turn into a tomato.
“And I am doing my research now.”
It takes only a few seconds for Taehyung to understand, and he swears he can feel himself blushing to his ears.
“Wh-what—” Taehyung splutters, definitely not expecting _that_. And Jungkook is grinning. He’s _grinning_ , for Heaven’s sake. His boyfriend is here trying to calm his jack-hammering heart so it won’t jump out of his chest and he just sits there looking all innocent. Taehyung really should kill him later. But for now,
“What do you mean you’re doing your research—now?” He tries again. He knows what Jungkook meant, of course, and he should have known better than to ask because he’s not sure if his heart can handle the answer.
“What I mean is,” Jungkook says as he snuggles closer to him. “The most beautiful thing in the world for me are here, right now. You. How you look when you’re blushing.”
Jungkook pauses for a moment to take Taehyung’s hand in his and he interlocks their fingers together. Taehyung stares and he can’t help but smile at how their hands fit so perfectly like they were made for each other. Jungkook must have noticed this because the next second he brings his hand up to kiss the back of Taehyung’s hand.
And in that moment Taehyung wonders how Jungkook does it. He wonders how after two years of dating each other Taehyung is still weak for everything Jungkook does, and for everything Jungkook is.
“And this, hyung, is the most beautiful feeling in the world.”
Taehyung instantly breaks into a wide grin. The movie is still playing on his laptop, the sound blaring from the speakers but all he can see is Jungkook and all he can hear is his own heart beating in his chest.
He really has to agree to that statement. And he really has no reason to ever disagree.
“What is?” He asks again, and this time he’s nothing but giddy as he waits for Jungkook’s answer.
“Being in love with you.”
( “Jungkook?”
“Yeah, hyung?”
“When are you going to actually write your essay?”
“Oh, right. Can I borrow your laptop when you’re done? Mine’s still getting fixed.”
“You prick.”
“You love this prick.”
“I know I do.” )
**Author's Note:**
> That was my first attempt at writing a fic (or a drabble?)! I honestly don't know what I was doing but I hope you enjoyed that? |
9c65563a0c8140e3a586ad1c5e3b1f43 | ['1585568fa00f4c61a7aedcb8f372dbd7'] | Silence resumed as both were left to their thoughts, uninterrupted until the sun began to dip below the horizon sometime later. The setting light caught Lorna’s attention, “I think it’d be best if we head back, these bones aren’t suited for long walks in the dark.” She turned, expecting Farrier to follow, looking back with mild surprise as he remained where he was.
“If it’s all the same to you actually, I think I’ll follow on by myself.”
Lorna raised her eyebrow, regarding him cryptically. “And why is that?”
Farrier paused, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. “Just have a couple of words...a final goodbye.” He knew it was unconvincing but he couldn’t for the life of him thing of a way to justify his wants to the mother standing before him.
But if she thought something of his choice of words, she didn’t say, merely fixing Farrier with a tired look before she turned and begun the solitary walk back to the grieving house, her minute body becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared over the brow of the hill.
All at once strength left him, and Farrier collapsed forward onto his knees in front of the gravestone.
_EWAN COLLINS_
_14th March 1919- 24th June 1944_
_Son and Friend_
Water seeped through his trousers, dampening the fabric, and a shiver ran through his broken body. Although he couldn’t say that it came entirely from the cold.
Digging his fingers deep into the soft soil beside him, the smell of wet soil permeated through the air as tears finally started to run down his face as quiet sobs heaved through his chest uncontrolled.
Thoughts of stolen kisses in abandoned air hangers and soft blonde hair through his fingers flashed past his eyes as he let all his grief release in the place where only the dead dwelled.
“I wasn’t there,” Words came unbidden from his mouth, words that were too long silenced. “I _wasn’t there_. I should have watched your back but I didn’t. I’m so sorry Ewan.” As the sobs eased he allowed himself a confession witnessed only by the trimmed grass and stone graves.
“I love you.”
Kissing his hand, he pressed it reverently against the polished stonework, running his fingers over Collins’ name before rising and walking away.
He reached the boundary of the graveyard and turned to look back briefly over the grave. With a tear running down his cheek he left the cemetery for the last time, turning to follow his previous path back to the rest of the world.
And it felt as if eyes followed him as he left.
**Author's Note:**
> Suitable apologies to the relevant parties
>
> My Tumblr is @nocturnalartemis you can hurl your screams there if you wish x | 8617b50f219a450da013925a7518a451 | ['1585568fa00f4c61a7aedcb8f372dbd7'] | With the Titan removed from the picture, Peter feels himself deflate, and his mind goes into idle. The world moves on around him- he knows this, but the colours have all blurred together, the sounds faint and muddled. It feels as if he’s inhabiting a living corpse.
The remaining Guardians sit in silence, shock and grief lulling them into an uncharacteristic quiet.
The rest of their party stand to the side, unsure what to do with him, or themselves. Stephen looks at him with open disgust, Tony looks at him with weary understanding.
He’s too late, he’s always too late. He couldn’t see Ego for what he truly was until the living planet was collapsing around them, couldn’t comprehend the affection that Yondu had for him until the man’s body was cold in the vacuum of space. He couldn’t confess his love for Gamora until she was facing the end of his gun, seconds from being taken from him. Why didn’t he ever _learn_.
Several minutes pass, (Peter thinks it could be anything from ten to thirty, but he’s stopped counting- there doesn’t seem to be a point anymore), before Mantis’ antennae perk up and, impossibly, her face falls further.
“Something’s happening.” And she sounds so _scared_ but it doesn’t register with Peter. His worst fears have already come to pass. Whatever hell comes next, it can’t be worse. It _can’t_.
It is.
Mantis and Drax disappear before him, and it’s then he knows he must already be dead.
“Quill?” And _fuck_ , why does he have to let everyone _down_?
His own skin begins to darken and it feels like nothing else he’s ever known before. Every part of his body stops, and inch by inch he just…detaches. It’s almost a relief.
“Oh man…”
There’s no glory, no noise, when he finally slips away. All that was ever Peter slowly comes undone on that dead world, far out in space. He feels the atmospheric breeze pulling him apart, almost gently, scattering his ashes among the cosmos. The gaze of the distant stars his final witness.
His last though before his body vanished into oblivion is that the wind could almost be her, opening her arms to welcome him home.
And then Peter Quill feels nothing at all.
**Author's Note:**
> Desiderium. Definition: an ardent desire or longing; especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost
>
> Can you tell I just threw every cliché in at once and hoped for the best? Please excuse the numerous grammatical errors and general lack of accuracy
>
> As always my tumbr is @nocturnalartemis if you want to yell at me |
c9b85b2888b44c8587245dc2dd39852a | ['158b0eded75a4c3e945235c05615dc26'] |
The Way We See Ourselves That No One Else Does
**Author's Note:**
> This was originally a creative project done for one of my classes. I waited until the final project was graded to post it, which was today, so here it is. I tried to be as respectful as possible while writing this because I can't exactly relate to the experiences of the characters and the people in real life who have had their gender identity questioned by the people around them. If any tags need to be updated so people know what they are going to find themselves reading jumping into this, let me know.
* * *
It was a cold night. The blurry lights from the city beaming into Hawks’ apartment gave it a warm glow, despite the icy wind they could hear going by their floor to ceiling windows. Only the kitchen lights were on, illuminating Hawks’ scarlet wings in a softer shade of strawberry.
Letting out a soft sigh, they calmly sipped on their red wine. It had been an exhausting day, but they were still feeling too much energy in their bones to go to bed. Letting their eyes wander over to the couch, Hawks smiled a little at the lanky figure sleeping over the cushions. The black-haired villain had only arrived an hour ago, exhausted and moodier than usual. He hadn’t explained why he had decided to show up at his partner’s place tonight, but it wasn’t necessary. Sometimes the other members of the League of Villains were too much for Dabi to tolerate and he just needed a break from them. Hawks wasn’t sure how they were exactly better company than the other villains, but Dabi staying over was better than being alone in their large apartment tonight.
“FUCK THE MEDIA!” The peaceful silence was shattered as Hawks’ front door slammed open. Their wings flared out and their wine spilled all over their kitchen countertop. Dabi lunged into a sitting position, looking around wildly with blue flames already creeping along his arms.
Hawks forced their hummingbird heartbeat to settle down as Miruko came storming in, her large rabbit ears pinned back as far as they could go. She looked like she was coming back from a night out in her jeans, off-the-shoulder sweater, and her favorite pair of heel boots. She was tugging out the rubber band that was keeping her braid together, letting her long white hair flow freely.
“Need a drink?” Hawks asked, already sending a feather out to grab another glass and an unopened bottle of wine. They glanced over at Dabi as their boyfriend shifted on the couch so he could look at the two heroes with his arms crossed over the back of the couch, his chin resting on them. He still looked sleepy, but his gaze was sharp like shards of ice, like a predator. Fitting for a man who has left charred bodies behind.
“Thank you,” Miruko- no, Rumi, she was off duty- grunted as she took the offered glass. She waited until the wine was nearly reaching the rim before taking a long sip. She sat on the empty barstool next to Hawks, her free hand’s fingers rapidly tapping along the marble countertop.
Hawks set the bottle down on the counter, letting their feathers return to their wings as they patiently waited for Rumi to explain her unexpected visit. At least she wasn’t threatening Dabi upon entering with arresting him. She’s done that every time she came over since the day she found out Hawks was in a relationship with the villain and would let him stay in their apartment on occasion.
“Date went wrong, bunny girl?” Leave it to Dabi to break the silence with a sarcastic comment.
“Fuck you,” Rumi snapped at him and flipped him off for emphasis. Hawks really hoped they didn’t have to break up another fight between them again; there were still burn marks on their ceiling from the last fight. Concern washed over them when Rumi let out a strained huff, leaning against the countertop with her ears drooping.
“So, why are we saying ‘fuck you’ to the media?” Hawks asked, refilling their glass to the brim.
Rumi’s ear twitched before removing her glass away from her mouth. She frowned, slightly tilting the glass around to make the leftover wine swirl around. Hawks waited patiently and a brief glance at Dabi told them that he was doing the same. “You know that 2019 Winter Interior Design show I was one of the hostesses for tonight?” Rumi finally brought up. Hawks nodded, signaling for her to continue.
“Well while I was showing off two decorative pieces, a reporter came up to me. At first, they seemed really interested in what I was telling them, taking notes and stuff. Then out of the blue, they ask, ‘So how you’ve always been interested in design work since you were a child?’. I didn’t think much of it and answered truthfully that yeah, I’ve always been interested in that shit. People coming up with designs for everything always impressed me!” She paused to take a long sip of her wine.
“After I answered that, they started asking more specific questions. Like how much I looked at design work, which one I preferred to study more, how other people thought about it, if I considered it a more feminine hobby at the time. They were beginning to get pushy with me answering, so finally I snapped at them and asked what their motive was,” Rumi scowled, her grip on the handle of the glass noticeably tightening, “They wanted to know if my interest in design was the first clue that I wasn’t really a damn guy and if I felt at the time it wasn’t appropriate for me to be interested in it at all.” She drowned the rest of the wine in a single swallow. | f8f2681bc1884751aa544af61e5d49cd | ['158b0eded75a4c3e945235c05615dc26'] |
Looking Out For Anemone
**Author's Note:**
> This a little late and I apologize to the person this gift is for. Got writer's block while trying to make this and ended up scraping my first version since I didn't like the direction it was going. Hope you enjoy!
>
> For norikodblackcat on tumblr!
>
> Prompt I went with was a "Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor AU". Still kept their quirks in because I love writing with winged characters and wing characterization.
It would have been a lovely day if it hadn’t been raining for four hours straight. Signing, the young man leaned back in his seat as he watched the sky continue to cry. The only people who had gone by the humble little flower shop were those who were seeking shelter from the rain. Maybe a glance or two at the large windows that displayed the large array of flowers inside for the upcoming holidays, but no one showed any signs of coming in. Hawks didn’t blame any of them because who would order flowers and then just have them get drenched as soon as they stepped outside?
No one was going to be coming in anytime soon with this downpour. The main floor had already been swept and tidy up. The pre-ordered flower bundles were already arranged and stored in the back until the delivery boy could pick them up. Being the only one on-call duty, he couldn’t talk with anyone to pass the time.
_ Guess this is what happens when I decide to take a last minute open shift position so close to the holidays. _
At least the pay was worth it. Although the flower shop was small and was located in one of the shadier parts of the city, it made good business. The locals loved the flower shop for the splash of color it brought to the gloomy streets and many of them were happy to support the place. Hawks found himself knowing a lot of the locals by a first name basis with how often they came in. It was always nice to see a familiar face and he often had a good time entertaining the kids that came in with their parents. It was too easy to make a toddler laugh by waving one of his wings at them or impressing them by bringing a flower to them with a floating feather.
With nothing else to do, he grabbed this month’s catalog of _ The Gardener’s Secret _ from under the counter and flipped it open to the last spot he had been reading. The soft jazz music filtering through the shop and the sound of the rain outside lures Hawks into a rare state of calm as he reads through the magazine. Between finals for his masters, his full-time job in this small flower shop, and being the primary caretaker for his ailing mother, he didn’t get a chance to experience peace very often.
So preoccupied with the magazine and listening to the mix of music and rain, Hawks didn’t see the young man walking up to the doors of the flower shop until he heard the bell ring. Jerking up, he threw the magazine under the counter in a failed attempt to look like he was alert. “Ah, hello, and welcome!” Hawks flashed his best ‘customer service’ smile with a small wave. Out of habit, his wing followed the movement of his hand (somehow miraculously not knocking anything over).
The man grunted as a reply, pulling the tattered hood back that had protected him from the rain. Striking blue eyes met his golden ones and Hawks felt the air get suck out of his lungs. Everything about this man screamed bad boy: ripped black jeans tucked into combat boots, dark leather jacket over a low baring white shirt that looked like it had seen better days, frazzled black hair, and silver earrings and nose piercings he could see gleaming under the lights of the flower shop. It was those eyes that really caught Hawks’ attention with just how pretty they were.
Shit. He’s always been weak for pretty eyes.
“You alright there, birdie?” The man’s voice snapped Hawks out of his thoughts. He also realizes that he had just been caught staring at the stranger and he let out a small laugh.
He could feel the heat on his cheeks as he replied sheepishly, “Yeah man, everything’s cool. Do you need help finding anything?” He stood up from the chair, ready to walk out from behind the counter.
The black-haired stranger waved a hand, turning towards the selection of flowers on the left. “Nah, I’m just looking.” He began to walk around slowly and if Hawks had to guess, was tuning him out.
Hawks tilted his head to the side as he watched, golden eyes flicking between the man’s face and the flowers. He could see the stranger’s eyes were scanning each flower with careful precision with his raptor vision (his quirk was such a blessing). There was always the joke from Miruko that Hawks was attracted to shiny things and for once, he was probably going to agree with her. A lot of people had unique eyes as a result of quirks, but there was something about those icy blue eyes this stranger had that was grabbing Hawks’ attention.
“Hey,” That deep, gravely voice snapped Hawks out of his thoughts again and his wings fluffed up in response. “You guys wouldn’t happen to have any flowers that would symbolize sincerity, would you?” The stranger asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. |
87277769d7494fe29c61af8bb52b2d7e | ['159dcc2f668e43a7b633762011f10344'] | ‘Just look,’ she said, tilting her head up to stare at the clear sky. ‘Look at the moon. It’s too far for us to reach, but they’ve been there without needing magic or spells or any of that stuff.’ She rested her head on Rhody’s shoulder, still watching the night sky. ‘If they can’t accept that, what chance does change have? What chance do we have?’
She was an emotional rollercoaster as she settled into a melancholy silence, but Rhody didn’t share her pessimism. Casting a few silent privacy charms (it wouldn’t do for any of the school ghosts to stumble across them and ruin this moment for her when Aurora was finally opening up) she rested her head on Aurora’s hair, hesitantly at first, but when the other woman didn’t protest, she relaxed a little and spoke softly.
‘We do have a chance. All it takes is for one person, one witch or wizard to be the first, to stand up and say ‘we need this change’. Whether it is to say ‘we need to accept muggle advances’ or ‘we need to accept that love is not exclusively between one man and one woman’. If one person takes a stand, more will follow. It is how every revolution started. With one person brave enough to stand up and speak out.’
She paused and turned to face Aurora whose skin was tinted silver in the moonlight. ‘I could be that person, Aurora, if you would stand by my side.’ Her smile was sad. ‘But I would not ask such a thing of you. That is a choice you must make on your own.’
Aurora looked back at her, a pale figure silhouetted in the darkness. ‘You make my heart hurt, Rhody. I am not brave; I don’t want to be mocked or scorned or cast out from wizarding society. I have made a place for myself here and I’m not ready to give that up.’ Rhody began to nod, but Aurora stepped closer and reached up a shaky hand to the other woman’s cheek, stroking it gently. ‘But I can’t keep myself from wanting you too. Even though I know I can’t have you.’
Rhody grinned wryly. ‘You can have me Aurora. You can have me any way you want me.’
‘Even if it means hiding from everyone else, pretending to be nothing more than friends and colleagues in front of others?’
‘Even then, love.’ They had moved closer without either realising it and Rhody could smell the whisky on Aurora’s breath.
‘Then fuck it,’ Aurora whispered, and pulled Rhody’s mouth to hers in a searing kiss.
Rhody responded instantly, surrendering to the other woman’s devouring lips and roaming hands.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, kissing in the moonlight, but when the kisses became more heated and Aurora started tugging at her robes, Rhody gently disentangled them. As they separated, Aurora’s lips were swollen, her hair mussed and she was out of breath. She had never looked more beautiful. Rhody suspected she was in much the same state and could feel the flush of heat radiating from her body, though it was invisible in the darkness.
‘Why did you stop?’ Aurora asked, her voice a whisper of need in the darkness. ‘I’m ok with this – I’m giving in. I want you.’
‘You have been drinking, love. I want you, make no mistake about that. But I am not willing to risk taking advantage of you tonight and losing you in the morning if you sober up and change your mind.’ She didn’t want Aurora to think she was rejecting her in any way, but she had to be clear. She never wanted to put the woman through what she had gone through the other night. ‘When I come to your rooms tomorrow evening for dinner, I will raise the topic again. If, while sober, you still feel the same as you do now, then I will give you what you want. Until then, I will behave.’
Giving a half smile, she took Aurora’s arm and led the woman through the slumbering castle to her rooms at the bottom of the Astronomy tower. | 9b8f012acab74990b8c148afd31823e4 | ['159dcc2f668e43a7b633762011f10344'] | Rhody’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘That is. . . most unusual. Most wizarding folk are not sensitive enough to pick up on it.’ She frowned. ‘But it should not make you uncomfortable. It should feel. . .’ She struggled to find the right words. ‘Warm. Comforting.’ She was the goddess of love. Her magic should reflect that. It _did_ reflect that.
Severus shook his head. ‘I can feel it,’ he repeated. ‘It does feel warm, that’s part of the problem. Wizarding magic doesn’t do that.’ He was watching her warily now. ‘What are you?’ His wand was in his hand, not threatening, not yet, but very much at the ready. But he felt her power – he didn’t want to start a fight he was sure to lose, not without real provocation. He _was_ a Slytherin after all.
Rhody just looked at him. ‘I am Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Beauty and Pleasure.’ She dropped a little of her human guise, much like she had before meeting the Headmaster, so she glowed softly. ‘Not an imitation, nor a charlatan.’
Severus stared at her in disbelief. ‘You’re crazy.’
She laughed softly and leant forward, meeting his gaze directly and dropping her mental walls. ‘You have the gift of legilimency, yes? Look and you will find I speak the truth.’
He did, slipping into her head as she presented memories to him as proof. She gave him memories of her early life millennia ago, memories of walking among ancient civilisations and finally memories of the ministry and the long years of captivity. He pulled away and she closed her mind and resettled into her mortal skin again.
He blinked at her, processing the information she had given him. She waited patiently, expecting questions or eloquent acquiescence.
But when he opened his mouth, all he said was:
‘Well, shit.’
5. The Wrong One
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Little bit of time jump in this one, but the students are waiting in the wings for their turn and they're getting a little impatient!
The knock at the door hours later pulled them from an intense discussion of potion making, in particular the historical recipes, ancient deity invocations and uses of love (‘Not love, lust!’ Rhody insisted) potions and wizardkind’s inclination to misuse them. Really the mortal was remarkably blasé about her divine status, instead asking all sorts of potion questions that he felt she should be able to answer given her ‘advanced age and experience.’ In reality, misnamed love potions were the only ones the goddess was familiar with, but Severus had academic curiosity to satisfy even if the type of potion was not his preference – or so he justified. They had moved from the lab to the comfy chairs by the fire in the main room and Rhody had been enjoying herself immensely. Severus was inclined to agree, although he would never admit such a thing out loud.
The interruption drew their attention and Severus rose from his armchair, opening the door to find Aurora on the other side, head bowed.
“I did it again, Severus,” she murmured, not looking up. ‘I pushed myself too far.’
Rhody heard the exhaustion in the other woman’s voice, tinged with… was that despair? She sat up and twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of her expression, but it was hidden in the shadows of her curtain of hair. She could’ve cursed Severus for keeping his rooms so dim at that moment, but even in the dungeon’s soft glow she could see the other woman’s shoulders slumped and her tread slow and heavy as Severus urged her inside. She stopped in the centre of the room, eyes still on the floor. Rhody didn’t think she’d even noticed her presence.
She stood from the sofa. Aurora didn’t react at all.
‘Do you want me to go?’ Rhody asked gently. Severus looked at Aurora questioningly.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ the brunette answered, voice cracking slightly. ‘I’m about to get blind drunk. Feel free to join.’
She shuffled over to the other end of the sofa and sat, as far away from Rhody as she could get. The other woman wanted to move closer, to take her hand and hold her and find out what the matter was so she could make everything better. But even as she moved forward, Severus was handing Aurora a large glass of firewhisky and shaking his head minutely at Rhody. _Not now_. With a flick of his fingers he urged her to sit back down and Rhody acquiesced just as silently, falling back to the corner of the sofa she had been occupying earlier as he sat himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of Aurora.
Rhody noticed, despite his proximity, he made no move to touch the other woman. In fact he seemed to be deliberately _not_ touching her, even avoiding brushing her fingers as he’d passed her the glass.
‘Who was it?’ he asked.
She shrugged, eyes on her hands cradling her drink. ‘Some random in the town. Few years younger. Full of enthusiasm. Sober.’
He nodded. ‘And what prompted it?’ he asked softly.
Another shrug, a large gulp of firewhisky and a smoke exhalation were her answers.
Rhody had no idea what was going on but the pair had clearly done this before – whatever ‘this’ was. She felt as though Severus were talking to an easily spooked animal in that quiet tone and a thousand horrific scenarios ran through her head. She had to know what in Hades name was going on.
‘What happened?’ she asked, her soft tone as she watched the pair at odds with the writhing in her stomach. If anyone had hurt Aurora, they would pay dearly.
Again Severus remained silent, his eyes on the other woman in front of him. Aurora drained her glass and held it out to him for a refill before she had even finished smoking. |
037ce1f9f65a4c98bdbbe91b31d275b7 | ['15b0d15231c549c8baf9711cd7b092fb'] | kinktober day 1 - spanking
“Over my lap, kitten.” comes the gruff demand from the cowboy. “Now. don’t make me ask you again.” he adds, patting his thigh and waiting for you, a brow raised as he watched, wanting to see if you’d make this anymore difficult or if you’d finally listen.
You shifted in your spot, brow furrowing for a moment before you finally gave in and moved over to the man, laying yourself across his lap and huffing as he gave your pants a rough tug and exposed your underwear to his gaze.
“There we are, baby.” he coos, running his large, calloused hand over your clothed bottom. You let out a hum, starting to melt into the gentle and soothing touch of his hand before a sharp gasp was pulled from you as he reared his hand back and landed a hard smack to your ass. “Now that was a good one.” he said with a chuckle, going back to running his hand gently over your ass. He continued with this pattern for a while, chuckling as he felt you squirm in his lap. Soon his hands were tugging your underwear down to join your pants and he was running his hand over your warmed bottom. You couldn’t help the noise that escaped your lips at the feeling of his rough hands against your sensitive bottom.
He started his pattern back up, alternating the length of time he’d rub your ass and the intensity of each smack to your ass. Some were softer, some left a good sting to your skin. It kept you guessing and had you growing wetter with each smack. He pauses again, letting his hand trail down before his fingers are teasing at your wet folds. He chuckles, other hand resting against your lower back as he moves to circle your clit. “My, my, kitten…did sir make you all wet?” he teased, grinning some as you let out a small noise and nodded your head, pressing back against his touches.
“Ah, ah. Stay still, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good now, huh? You did so well for me. You deserve a reward.” He said, beginning to move his fingers in firm circles against your clit as he kept his other hand against the small of your back to try and keep you from moving too much on him. He used his skilled fingers, drawing moans and whimpers out of your mouth and pulling you closer to the edge of release.
He could tell you were getting close, if the raise in your pitch and the way you could hardly keep still were anything to go off of. He worked his fingers a little faster, murmuring soft praise to you. “C’mon, darlin’. Cum for me.” He said, voice low and rough. A soft cry fell from your lips, thighs trembling as your orgasm hit you. He worked you through your climax, pulling you up to sit in his lap once you whimpered about being sensitive. He peppered your face in kisses, adjusting you so that your sensitive bottom wasn’t rubbing against his jeans. You began to slide your hand down his chest, fingers beginning to play at his belt before he shook his head and moved your hand.
“Uh-uh, baby. You just let ol’ Jesse cuddle ya for a little bit here. You did so well for me and i think ya need some down time before you worry about me, alright? Do you need a water? Blanket? A snack?” he asked, fingers stroking against your sides. You shook your head and snuggled in a little closer, letting your eyes close as Jesse hummed softly. | c6797c3f820f4dc99afb6282434df1e5 | ['15b0d15231c549c8baf9711cd7b092fb'] | thank you, daddy
you knew you deserved this. you absolutely knew you did. what else did you expect from talking back to gabe? you knew what you were asking for the moment you started to mouth him off. you’d been acting up most of the day, really. so, it was with a pleased little grin on your face that you settled yourself - naked from the waist down - across gabe’s lap. you practically melted into his lap as a large, calloused hand began to gently rub across your ass and leave gentle pats against the skin to start warming you up. the first spank came as a surprise, and it showed in the way your body jerked and a loud gasp spilled from your lips. you turned to look over your shoulder, a small pout on your lips as you locked eyes with gabe.
“look at that face..” he cooed, smirking at you as he laid down another spank against your skin. “it’s almost as if you think you don’t deserve this. but we both know you do, don’t we?” another spank. “after the way you’ve acted today? such a brat…” he tsked, laying down yet another spank.
five more spanks quickly followed the last three, turning your ass a soft shade of pink. he took a pause, his fingers drifting down to your folds, which were already wet from the first few spanks he’s laid down. he let out a soft hum, gently teasing you and grinning as a soft moan passes through your lips.
“someone’s enjoying this, aren’t they? naughty girl…” he says, voice holding a teasing quality to it. “will you still be enjoying it when your ass is bright red, i wonder?"
with that, he began to spank you again, laying down five more - slightly harder - spanks. you were whimpering and squirming to get away from the spanking, ass starting to sting just slightly now. he took a moment to pause, running his hand along your skin before dipping between your legs once more for a quick moment. he watched you carefully, watching your body relax just enough to catch you off guard before he quickly laid down the last seven spanks. they were harder and quicker, causing tears to spring to your eyes. you whimpered and sniffled, laying across his lap as he admired the bright shade of red he’d brought out.
"aw, princess…don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that.” he cooed, fingers dipping down between your legs again as he began to slowly circle and tease at your clit. you let out a soft moan, sniffling a little before pressing back against his hand. your eyes slid shut and you gasped softly as he put more pressure against your clit and started to speed up his hand, mouth hanging open. “what do you say, baby? hm? i haven’t heard any manners out of you yet."
"o-oh, fuck– thank you, daddy.” you whimpered, pressing your thighs together slightly and effectively trapping his hand against you for the time being. “thank you for spanking me and for playing with me,” you breathed, fingers moving to grab at his thigh and squeezing as his fingers continued to circle and rub against your sensitive bud.
“you gettin’ close, baby? god, i think you are. you really are a dirty girl, aren’t you? getting turned on by daddy spanking you…tch. so naughty.” he purred, smirking as he watched your hips move against his hand and listened to your moans and whines, knowing you were close by the change in pitch. “that’s it, princess. come for me. let it go, give it to me.” he murmured, voice low as he moved his hand a little faster.
you whimpered, rocking back against him before your body tightened and a loud cry fell from your lips. your hips rocked back into his hand, face pressed down against his thigh as he continued to tease you and help you through your climax. he slowly pulled his hand away as you let out a small whine, moving yourself away from his hand as everything got a little too sensitive.
“what do you say, princess?"
you looked back over your shoulder, face flushed and a little grin on your lips. "thank you, daddy.” |
124ab77034f540ffb5a09aa846f65d5b | ['15b12b6565ab485487ddd4ed80e116c4'] | steal some covers, share some skin
Dull sunlight filters through the curtains, heating up a small patch on the bed, highlighting a small section of a large blue comforter. Kakyoin's vision is scattered as his eyes began to open, arms held tight around his back, pulling him into a strong chest. A quick peer over Jotaro's shoulder tells him it's 9:45.
He yawns, running his hands up Jotaro's chest and gripping his shoulders, placing small, gentle kisses up his jaw. A low noise in Jotaro's throat tells him he's stirring awake. Jotaro buries his head more securely in Kakyoin's hair, his arm pulling him in closer.
“Mmh...” He closes his eye as Jotaro kissed his eyebrow, “Time to get up.”
“It's Sunday.” He pulls the covers up further, his arm slipping down Kakyoin's back to wrap around his waist.
“I had things I wanted to do today...” He murmurs, and Jotaro responds by tilting his head up and kissing him, slowly and lazily, his thumb stroking his cheek. Kakyoin wrinkles his nose, their combined morning breath entirely unpleasant.
He kisses back regardless, and even presses their lips together again before moving to get up. Jotaro's arms wrap tightly around him, keeping him pressed square against him in a childish display he repeats each morning. Kakyoin sighs, his eyes closing and rolling underneath his lids.
“They can wait.”
His hand falls to his hip and rubs soothing circles around the bone with his thumb, and Kakyoin feels himself relax, slowly starting from his toes and making its way up his calves, thighs, torso and chest until he's melded against Jotaro seamlessly, a large square palm going down to twine their fingers together.
His arm goes to wrap snugly around his waist and Kakyoin relents, craning up his neck and placing soft kisses along Jotaro's neck, making sure to press his lips to each scar and blemish twice, and nip just a little against every red mark he had made the night before.
Jotaro tilts his head up and their lips meet once more, just as languidly as they had before. He runs his hand up and down Jotaro's chest slowly, the hand that's holding his own tightening its grip; possessive even when half-awake.
He pulls away and tucks his head under his chin, burying his face once more in Kakyoin's mussed red hair. He sighs and lets Jotaro's warmth overtake him, closing his eyes and breathing him in slowly, pressing a small kiss against his collarbone before he closes his eyes, humming as Jotaro places a kiss against his head, always the one to have the last move.
Their bodies are snug and intimate as they fall asleep, and they wake for good well into the afternoon. Their ritual repeats, and it takes them a good two hours to finally leave the bed. | 3e624d197114476d955b97eff9936ae9 | ['15b12b6565ab485487ddd4ed80e116c4'] | He let out a soundless cry as Jotaro slowly pushed in, feeling Kakyoin's forehead disconnect from his own as he threw his head back. Jotaro's fingernails dug tightly into Kakyoin's bicep, a hiss coming through his grit teeth as he was surrounded with warmth; tight and virginal.
He began to pull out, watching as Kakyoin's teeth were grit in pain his hands clasped tight together around his neck. His body wasn't responding well, and despite only managing to get the head of his cock in, it would be better to cut his losses now and try to ease the pain and his hormones some other way.
Kakyoin, however, snapped his legs around Jotaro's waist and kept him firmly inside of him. Jotaro's eyebrows furrowed, air puffing out of his lips as he looked down at him. His hands were still tense, but they dug into his hair, pulling a bit too hard at the dark strands.
“N-No, I'm fine.” He smiled, though tears were at the edges of his eyes, “Just...please give me a moment.”
Jotaro kissed his forehead and nodded, staying still, “Are you sure? You're in a lot of pain.”
“I—I know. My body, _this_ body—it's not used to your...” He bit the inside of his lip as he searched for the right word, “It's not used to your _girth_ , I suppose.”
“My—.” He sighed, and stared at Kakyoin with heavy exasperation, “Well, it is basically your first time again.”
“I know. I do remember the technical first time though, what with having my memories back.” He chuckled as Jotaro kissed his neck, “I felt similar to how I do now but...after a while it was really nice.” He toyed with the back of Jotaro's hair, fingers running through the soft locks, “We did this a lot whenever we had the time. You were very demanding.”
Jotaro scoffed, and kissed him if only to quiet him. Kakyoin hummed happily into the kiss, his bottom lip being caught between Jotaro's teeth and sucked on. He felt hands go up his torso and fingers pinching his nipples once more. He cried out, losing focus and letting Jotaro take control of the kiss as his tongue probed inside hungrily.
“Let me know when you want me to keep going.”
Kakyoin nodded, and his arms clamped around Jotaro's neck, “I—I should be fine now. You can go ahead.”
Jotaro nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His arms went to wrap under and around Kakyoin's back, pulling him up slightly and keeping his grip firm. He let out a shallow sigh as he made his way entirely inside of him, his balls lightly slapping against his backside. Kakyoin was pulled up even more, his chest touching Jotaro's and his face buried in his thick neck.
“ _Nnh_...” Jotaro could feel his sweaty forehead against his own sweaty neck, “One moment...”
Jotaro leaned down and kissed the nape of his neck, nuzzling close to his face, “I know.”
Kakyoin tilted his head and kissed Jotaro, his mouth opening immediately and pushing his tongue in. His fingers scratched and dug into Jotaro's skin, leaving angry red marks, visible and possessive. He bit down on Jotaro's lip, and Jotaro retaliated by sucking on his tongue. One of his hands slid down Kakyoin's back, grabbing his ass before his fingers dug into his hip and held him sturdy against his toned chest.
Jotaro thrusted shallowly and Kakyoin inhaled sharply through his nose. He kissed Kakyoin's temple as penance, his hand running up and down his back slowly, trying to soothe and ease his pain. His head moved down, lips pressing against his neck and leaving wet, gentle kisses. He sucked at a patch of unmarred skin, his fingers digging into Kakyoin's back and pulling his body flush against his own.
Kakyoin began to squirm slightly, Jotaro taking notice. He decided to ignore it for the moment and focus on sinking his teeth into his neck eagerly, making sure his mark was all over Kakyoin's body. Kakyoin let out a low whine, his fingers pulling at Jotaro's hair impatiently. Jotaro finished sucking on a patch of his skin just under his jaw before pulling back and staring at him.
“Move—I'm, I'm good. Don't worry.” He kissed the bridge of Jotaro's nose, “ _Please_ move.”
Jotaro nodded, his hips pulling back and snapping back inside of him. Kakyoin gasped and writhed, his face buried in the crook of Jotaro's neck. He grunted hard as he pulled out once more, his cock aching and pulsating inside of him as he thrust inside of him, keeping his pace languid.
His eyes were shut tightly and his brain was mush as he clung tightly to Jotaro, his legs shaking as they clasped around him. His hair was stuck to his forehead, sweat sticking to it uncomfortably and he attempted to shake it off before giving up. He cried out when Jotaro thrusted slow, deep, filling him up at a glacial pace but hitting inside of him with enough force to make him see white.
Kakyoin clawed up his back to grab his hair, tugging and pulling his face close and mashing their lips together. His muscles felt weak, letting Jotaro easily take over the kiss, his head spinning, dizzy and breathless as he was continuously pounded into. He could feel saliva drip down from the corners of his mouth, his eyes opening just enough to look down to the side and see Jotaro's arm moving up, his fingers tangling in his bright red hair.
Jotaro's pace was still teasingly slow, bent on savoring each thrust, each push inside of him. He pulled all the way out, tortuous and teasing, before thrusting back in just as so. His sac hit against Kakyoin's ass and he held himself there, his face buried in Kakyoin's neck, flushed and hot, before pulling out and repeating the same motions. Kakyoin exhaled, high-pitched and shaky. |
7f122bfa69a542199020b8ee260feb5c | ['15dae95ff28f4bb7afda1dc85f285dd5'] | “Alright team listen up, we’re going to blow this door down, but before we do, I need you guys to put on your rebreathers. I don’t need any of us being caught in between the breach and the vacuum.” After we were all set up, I gave Jack the signal to blow the door in. There was a loud bang and shortly after we were swept off of our feet and thrown into the room. I was slammed into a table and the others into a wall. I think Dove hit her head because she was looking down at blood in her hand. Velvet was laying in the back corner of the room, she hadn’t moved for a bit leading me to believe she was unconscious. “Let’s never do that again guys, shit, I think Velvet is out for the count. Dove, check on her status and tend to that wound of yours, Jack on me, we’re going to secure the doctor.”
“I take it you guys are here for this,” a deep voice said from behind a counter. Jack and I sighted in to see Dr. Osiris holding a syringe with the Seth Virus in it. “No doctor, we’re here to bring you in for questioning, we aren’t here for the Seth Virus.” “Demyan, I have been waiting for you to return home, you need to find your father, you need to know the truth,” he says pulling out a remote. He pressed a button on it and a loud siren started going off, we immediately covered our ears trying to muffle the noise. I didn’t even realize the doctor had moved until he was injecting the virus in my neck. “No! What have you done I said pushing him off of me.” “Find your father, everything will fall into place then.” “Fuck, Demyan has been infected,” Jack said backing up towards Dove. “What do we do? Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a simple grab and go operation.” “Jack, Dove, just leave me here. Let them know what went on and here and tell them you tried to kill me, but I got away. Leave Velvet, I’ll make sure that she’s safe,” I said while taking off my rebreather. “We can’t just leave you here, Demyan, we’ve been through too much together,” Dove says while walking towards me. “You can, and you will. Trust me, I know what I’m doing... Now go, that’s an order!”
They both looked at me, their eyes full of hesitation and confusion. There was then a loud banging coming from the hall, followed by a roar. I signaled for them to both get out of here and they grabbed the Doctor and ran. Again, a loud bang followed by a roar. I looked at Velvet and ran over and picked her up. I kicked open a door to a locker room and layed her on the bench. Lucky for us there was two lockers without locks on them. I picked her up and put her inside of it, that’s when I heard the glass doors in the hall shatter, followed by loud footsteps. Whatever the hell that thing was it was coming quick. I quickly ziptied Velvets locker closed and jumped in one myself. Not too long after the creature walked into the lab and started looking around. It was different from all of the others, it was taller and looked to be more muscular. I tried to breathe as faintly as possible so that it wouldn’t hear me.
“Where am I?” I heard Velvet groan from her locker. I felt my heart drop as the creature suddenly looked our way and started heading for the door. I heard her gasp as she realized what was coming our way. The creature ripped the door off of the hinges and started looking around the room. It walked to her locker and started to pull on her door furiously, it started to pull harder and harder while it growled. On instinct, I jumped out of my locker and stabbed it in the arm with my knife. It slapped me out of the door and pulled the knife out and dropped it on the floor. “Sin, I’m so sorry,” I heard Velvet cry from her locker. The monster started to walk towards me, clenching its fists in anger. I jumped to my feet and started to run at it, “Might as well go out fighting.” The creature swung, but I ducked and delivered a quick counter uppercut. It roared at me and tried to kick me, but I caught it. The blow would have been enough to injure me if it wasn’t for my armored vest. I swept the creature and broke it’s knee. | 737f27ed80ee41bb88ae4563f4030c31 | ['15dae95ff28f4bb7afda1dc85f285dd5'] |
1. The Beginning
** _Chapter 1_ **
The night was cold… too cold for anyone such as myself to want to be training, but I had to. This was the final exam, our instructors liked to make their recruits play a game called “Hunters.” The game was simple, find the enemy team and neutralize them. When I say neutralize, I mean beat them to a pulp or tranquilize them. I guess expecting any less from Ex-KGB instructors would be foolish. I wanted this though, my father runs a multi-billion dollar company called Black Cross Medical, specializing in disposing and treating people infected with the Seth virus. He and a supporting mercenary company rounded up the infected and placed them in the outskirts of Derry City. I wanted to go in but according to him I was too “unqualified” to go. I don’t really get to see him much, he’s always gone on a business trip or locked away in his office. When I do see him though his brown curly hair is usually in his face. He keeps his hair over one eye to cover a knife wound he sustained while in “the field.” Mom used to call it his lady killer look, well that is she used to before she disappeared. There had been a many recent number of cases lately of people just going missing in the middle of the night. It didn't really seem all that important… until my mother ended up missing.
My father took her disappearance hard and started drinking again after he had not for 6 years. She would be so disappointed in him for going back to it after all these years. Who am I to judge though? I stopped going to my classes and started a course down a path that would lead me nowhere fast. I didn't really give a damn though, not until one night I ended up with a gun in front of my head. A few buddies and I got drunk at a bar and thought it would be funny to hit on a couple of girls from a well known biker gang just for fun. As you can already imagine, a couple of guys didn't like that. They broke a couple of bottles and decided to head our way. Of course we were too drunk to realize what we were doing, we were just a couple of guys trying to take our minds off of our shitty lives.
My buddy Don was that first to receive a blow to the back of the head, Wulf was next. I had turned around just in time to receive a fist to the nose. The gang drove us outside and continued to beat our asses. We swore we were going to die when the leader pulled out a gun and pointed it to my head. I was ready to die though, life had taken the only thing that meant something to me. I embraced my near future with courage, but it seems like someone else had something in mind. Before the gang leader could pull the trigger, a knife flew into his neck. He did what any idiot would do after being stabbed in the neck, he pulled it out, bleeding to death almost instantly.
I looked around to see who exactly my savior was, but saw no one. The gang members friends decided to go look for whoever did this to their leader. They proceeded down the alley to look for whoever did this not knowing what to expect. I could have ran, but I couldn't force my legs to move. I was paralyzed, left wanting to know what was happening. My friends were lying on the ground next to me knocked unconscious barely holding on to life. I should’ve ran and called for help or told someone what was going on, but I couldn't. I heard someone get thrown into a trashcan and some scuffles coming from the shadowy alley. I strained my eyes to see what was going on, it was hard to seeing how I was just beaten up and had sustained a black eye. Suddenly I felt a hand grab me by the shoulder and pull me back down to the ground. I tried to see who it was but they flashed me with a flashlight and kept looking over their shoulder signaling someone. Before I knew it a cloth bag was over my head and I was zip tied and thrown into the back of a truck.
I listened to the men laughing and speaking in Russian as they made sharp turns and slammed on the breaks. I could feel myself sliding backwards towards the door as if they were going up hill. After about a good two hours of driving the van finally came to a stop. I heard the men get out of the truck and then open the back door. “This is your stop,” one of them said as he drug me out by the feet. “Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs hoping someone would hear. They all looked at each other and started laughing in unison. One of them then hit me in the nose with the butt of his gun. I fell to the ground in pain as blood started gushing from my nose. “Fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?” “What is this too much for you too? I thought you didn’t care about life anymore?” |
63601b3c39fe45fbba82647d028c1d8a | ['16036a4f55fc44dcb93de6344bfbfd07'] | A Face Worth a Thousand Words
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> I accidently deleted the original so here it is again.
Jingim was beyond annoyed with his older brother at this point. Byamba was supposed to have been back more than half an hour ago with information on the latest fleet movement of their soldiers but has not returned. The last person who saw him was Ahmad who claimed that he saw Byamba walking by the stables but when Jingim arrived he was long gone. Deciding that he was heading back to his room and would send his servant to track the missing bastard down Jingim swung by to check on the progress of his request for a different handle on his broadsword. It was not till he turned the corner to the dojo that he saw a familiar shape standing in the door way.
“Bastard!” Jingim’s favorite title for Byamba dropped from his lips as he marched over to the taller man who he had been trying to locate. “Where have you been? When I expect you to bring me something in a certain amount of time than that is what you do! Your actions are absolutely-” Jingim’s angry tirade was interrupted as Byamba took a small step sideways to lean against the door completely oblivious to the tiny golden ball of livid prince next to him.
"Beautiful.” He breathed out.
“What? Are you listening to me? Byamba!” Growing even angrier at being annoyed Jingim reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm to get his attention but all that got him was a slight tilt to the head in his direction. “I will not stand for this disrespect. What in the world are you looking at?”
Turning his head to look in the direction that the other was staring Jingim did not see anything but the Latin in the dojo. Confused as this was not nothing new to either of them he opened his mouth to demand answers when Polo turned around and took all thought from the Prince’s head. Marco was doing slow yoga movements shirtless and had yet to notice them. His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and seemed to glow in the morning sunlight at each graceful movement. His light brown curls were wet. pushed back from his face and seemed to give him a golden halo. His normally wide blue-green eyes were closed in his concentration.
However, what was so distracting was his face. Polo had managed to get his hands on a shaving blade and was now absolutely beardless. It made his face look much younger and more like the boy he was often referred to as. One can now clearly see that his jaw had a noble quality to it and his lips looked even pinker and mouthwatering than Jingim remembered. If he had to pick a word to describe the Latin then he would have picked majestic since beautiful did not seem to fit the image before him. How could he have noticed how pulchritudinous the Latin was? He almost could not believe that this was the same man who crawled into his father’s court looking like a wild beggar! What kind of spell is this that a simple shave could elevate such a man to the place of angels? How could a simple Latin merchant so easily contain the beauty of the world?
Marco turned half way with his arms out stretched and head slightly tilted back so that the sun seemed to reflect in his face and Jingim sagged against the other side of the doorway his mind overwhelmed.
“Majestic.” The word slipped from Jingim’s lips without thought.
“Yes.” Byamba replied his gaze still locked on the Latin. The two brothers remained lost in their trance having completely forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. They were so dazed and entranced on the Latin that one had to wonder how Jingim and Byamba missed the amused smile on Marco’s face. | 7ce573a8057d4d9ea805ce4e88f70575 | ['16036a4f55fc44dcb93de6344bfbfd07'] | Q: My Derek teased my Spencer's Star Trek Convention outfit and he got hurt then left. Now Derek feels guilty and can't find him and when I went off on him, he left to. Is he gone for good along with my Spencer?
A: Morgan has left to bring Spencer home. They will come back when things get settled so just be patient.
_Warranty:_ With proper care, the Derek unit will grow old and eventually die, unless a unsub or accident kills him. However, if you get annoyed with the dark protector, you can always send him back to our company for a full refund (within 12 months of purchase).
4. David Rossi: Guide and Owner's Manual
Congratulations!
You are now the owner of a fully automated Rossi unit. To ensure that you get the full use and benefits of your professional profiler, please pay close attention to the following instructions.
_Basic Information_ :
_Name_ : David Rossi
_Date Of Manufacture:_ Year of 1947
_Place Of Manufacture:_ C &M, New York
_Height_ : Around 6'2
_Weight_ : Unknown
_Your Rossi unit will come with the following accessories:_
Two suits
1 loaded gun
Two casual outfits
Two pairs of shoes
FBI badge
Black Book
When you first open your Rossi unit, he may be watchful and tense. Show him your place and he shall open up.
Cleaning: The Rossi unit is fully capable of cleaning himself and will keep the house clean for you.
_Programming:_
Your Rossi unit is perspective and tough, and can carry out the following functions:
_Storyteller: Being an author Rossi tells excellent stories and keep people of all ages occupied._
_Profiler: As one of the original profilers he is one of the best and can solve anything._
_Date: He's mature, charming and handsome. You will have no problem convincing him to be your date and you will have a heck of a time._
_Coach: Rossi is a tough cookie and believes in tough love. He won't sugar you and baby you but he will look after you and make sure you got what it takes to survive._
Your Rossi unit comes with four different modes:
_Calm_
_Profiler_
_Annoyed_
_Romeo_
The _calm mode_ is activated whenever Rossi is with other units in a friendly setting like a restaurant, date or nights out on the town. He will laugh, joke and crack a smile more.
_Romeo_ is activated when Rossi is around beautiful women or potential wives, girlfriends and lovers. He will watch, smooth talk, buy jewelry, flirt and date.
The _annoyed mode_ is activated when Morgan, Spencer, Garcia and Prentiss units put them selves in danger, pull pranks on each other, is late or crosses the line.
The _profiler mode_ is activated when Rossi is on a case or something big happens like a mail-box is knocked over or a cat is stolen.
_Reaction to other units:_
_Spencer Reid:_
This unit is a fan to the Rossi Unit and looks up to him. The Spencer Unit often rants which sometimes annoy him but they get on great.
_Derek Morgan:_
This unit is a friend, but he will occasionally annoy Rossi with his big-bad complex and reaction towards god-related things.
_Jason Gideon:_
These units have little to no connect so everything might be all right.
_Elle Greenaway:_
These two have no connect.
_Aaron Hotchner:_
This unit is a friend, and there is mutual respect and admiration. They might jump down each other throats everyone now and then but it's all good.
_Emily Prentiss:_
These units are friends but the Prentiss unit sometimes tries to profile the Rossi unit but there is no harm between them.
_JJ: This unit is good friends with your unit. He will grow to have deep respect for JJ but everything will be all right._
_Penelope Garcia: She is one of the Rossi unit's friends, things get tense after she is shot but things will smooth over._
**Ex-Wives: Things are tense so don't leave them alone.**
_Frequently Asked Questions_
Q: My Rossi unit is tense and keeps looking at the charm bracelet and won't tell me why. What is going on?
A: He must be working on the one case that stayed with him. Give him lots of time and things will settle down.
Q: My unit had a fight with my best friend's Hotch and now there not talking and we are scared to leave them in a room together. How do we fix this?
A: Give them a new case and make them thing children are in dire need and they will get over it. Or have a Morgan step in.
Q: One of Rossi's ex-wives tracked him down and they had a heated conversation and now he left and I can't find him. What can I do?
A: Find a Spencer and he will track him down and bring him back. Just wait patiently and he'll come back home.
Q: I accidently burned up Rossi's black book and now he won't even LOOK at me let alone talk and I can't stand the silence. What do I do?
A: My advice? Present him with a new book wearing victoria secret while begging for forgives on your knees. Or just be a suck up the rest of your live. He might forgive you.
Q: Rossi has been taking me out to dinner and presenting me with gifts and I'm loving it. I know he has a reputation as a Casanova but I can't help being happy. What can I do?
A: Be smart, be safe, and be happy.
Warranty: With proper care, the Rossi unit will grow old and eventually die, unless a unsub or accident kills him. However, if you get annoyed with the mature casanova, you can always send him back to our company for a full refund (within 12 months of purchase).
5. Penelope Garcia : Guide and Owner's Manual
**Summary for the Chapter:** |
964f1f3c874e44d19bf60507aac2ce9b | ['16312826a1824d6c93eecac530db855b'] |
Even My Recklessness Has Its Limits
**Author's Note:**
* Inspired by LINK by LINK.
> Okay, so, sorry for the weird semantics. I've been reading a lot of one-shots lately and I always continue the stories in my head but don't tend to write them... recently I started doing so. The newest part is actually posting them. So, here's another work inspired by an amazing author.
Harry and Draco talk about Harry’s recklessness and how the only exception is always Teddy, because Teddy is always an exception.
Draco admits he asked Andromeda about it before they even got together. He's Teddy’s only cousin after all.
Honestly, Draco cannot complain about his relationship with Harry. He’s just been perfect, so bloody _perfect_!! Sodding Potter and his huge amazing dick and sweet passionate kisses and romantic dates... _fuck_
Just doing bloody everything in the right way.
Even when he gets possessive —because the Twat Who Lived turned out possessive as fuck— he just gets possessive in the most amazing possible way that always gets Draco so bloody turned on he has to make excuses and get out of anywhere they might be.
Bloody infuriating how he can’t even get mad at the bastard.
Not that he really wants to fight but... it would just be so much easier if he had anything to complain about scarhead.
But all his quirks turn out... endearing.
Fuck
The only other situation in which he's seen such a charming bloody Chosen One is whenever the godson is involved.
Because of course he also had to be the best bloody parental figure of all time.
Even before their relationship started, even before the fucking. Teddy had always been the only exception in Harry’s reckless behavior.
Oh, really, he had inquired quite excruciatingly. Andromeda was never ever going to allow a pissed Potter into Teddy’s presence. But it hadn’t been a problem, like ever.
Harry Bloody Potter had always been the most righteous gentleman whenever the little _sprout_ was concerned.
Never even been slightly tipsy to meet with them, which —considering Potter’s reputation —had come quite as a surprise to Draco when he had asked.
But he found himself quite glad that the conduct was restricted very far away from anywhere where his blood was concerned.
Fuck that was just it, wasn’t it? Something in his bloodline must be a Potter’s righteousness propeller, right?
Draco couldn’t help but hope...
insane, Malfoy, really? How could you even believe... I mean, the kid is his family, surely he has some regard for the creature. Certainly not comparable to a barely two years long relationship that started just as convenient —even if amazing— fucking. He definitively didn't think of you in the same way he thought of his beloved godson. How could you even hope for such a thing.
But hope he did, until one day it slipped through his lips on the aftermath of a breathtaking fucking session.
And Harry... Harry didn’t even seem surprised as he had expected. quite the contrary really. As if he had had just the same thing in his mind on that very same moment. Then, Draco felt the git smile while pressing a kiss on the top of his head. Fuck here it comes, the rejection, the mockery. Of course he couldn’t say such things to Potter. Bloody Potter.
But instead of deception he was met by nervous laughter —nearly giggles— and such tender and kind eyes Draco forgot the importance of air altogether.
"So... yeah... I kinda wanted to talk about that" Harry's voice was tentative, as if he was still looking for the right words to phrase it. "you see how Teddy is my only family? Like he's the only remnants of the family I could have had. I mean of course Ron and Hermione and all the Weasleys are my family but... But I mean as in actual family, as in something related to my parents. Not quite related as in blood related, because of course Remus and my father weren't related but like, nearly, you know?"
"Could you please stop rambling, Potter?" answered Draco with a smile against his lover's chest, drawing letters over his stomach with one nervous hand.
"Yes, yes, right! of course. I... I kinda figured out what you are telling me, love. How I'm quite different just with you and Teddy specifically. And I kinda wanted to make something to show why. Because I know."
"You better not be asking me to marry you while your cum is dripping down my thighs and mine is covering your belly!"
"Is that a no then?"
"That is a 'you better plan something way bigger and more dramatic if you want me to take you siriusly' Potter"
"What better time can there be that when I just realized for the thousandth time why I love you so much?"
"You love me because of the sex?"
"I love you because you notice so well the love I have for Teddy but you can’t notice that my love for you goes to the same measures, I love you because you are getting your fingers sticky with your own cum by playing with its nasty, nearly dry remnants over my belly just for the sake of keeping your hands over me." Draco's hand nearly withdrew hesitatingly but Harry stopped him and held on to it.
"I was wondering if you would ever... But no! no! no Potter! no way! you don’t even have a ring!"
"If I handed you a ring in this very instant would your answer be yes?" he neared his hand to his nightstand, wriggling his fingers dramatically.
"Oh! You didn't! You insufferable neandar..."
"Answer my bloody question Malfoy, is the problem the ring? If I gave you a ring in this very instant would you say yes?"
"Well of course not Potter, I won’t say yes while we are laying naked in bed."
"Want to stand then?"
"No! I mean-" | c6abccc8258840d691cdd70a2560d0f1 | ['16312826a1824d6c93eecac530db855b'] | “I don’t… threat him like rubbish” answered Potter not quite believing himself.
“Oh, really? Then why does Parkinson always tries to make him leave you ‘for your own sake, Draco’?” he mimicked her.
“That bloody… I mean… did she say that?” he interrupted himself
“Yeah, he wasn’t quite cheerful either, was kinda after one of your big fights, the last time he was sent to Pomfrey I think” murmured the Hufflepuff dismissively. “You really should stop doing that…”
“What?” answered Harry defensively
“Sending him to the Hospital Wing! It’s so stupid that you believe yourself in love even when you both hurt each other all the time… even though I’ve heard he’s only acted in self-defense. Is that true?”
“that I…”
“That you have always been the one attacking first”
“I… Never thought about it, its just… the way we are, you know?”
“Well, I would think about it, I would wonder if I actually love someone I hurt so much so constantly, and I would also try to do something about it if I found myself that I actually do love them. Before it’s too late”
“Too late…”
And even if those were a twat’s words, I mean, Ernie Macmillan of all people came to tell him he was a bad partner… even if he might have shrugged it off as an idiot’s comment… he couldn’t quite do that. It came coming back every time he didn’t ignore it purposefully and well… that wasn’t doing such good of a work either. So, after a couple of days of pretending everything was just right, even though he started noticing some things, like how Draco seemed on edge when they were alone, or how, when they were with others, everyone seemed to stay away from Draco, but they didn’t do that when Draco was alone, only when Harry was there. So, after a couple of days of pretending everything was alright, he brought it up with Hermione and Ron.
“Am I a bad partner?” he blurted one day he and Ron were playing chess while Hermione read a book in the couch beside them, they were alone. Both his friends froze and looked at each other before giving him that look.
Fuck
The look was originally Hermione’s she used it when talking about evident logical things, but spending so much time with her meant that Ron had developed it as well, even though he used it for evident emotional things. None of those things were so evident for Harry. Now, if both of them were giving him the look…
Shit
“Shit” he said out loud. They both looked as if neither wanted to be the one to speak first. Then Ron finally opened his mouth.
“Well mate.. you do are… kind of abrasive” he hesitated “and, I mean, I get it, hell if I don’t, it’s Malfoy, but… I mean… ugh, Mione would you help me?”
She seemed to come out of her mind “you don’t seem to trust him at all, Harry. It’s like if you had never stopped seeing him as the prat he once was instead of the man he is now.”
“We get you care for him, we can clearly see it in you. But… but did you ever get to know him? Did you ever get to learn about what he thinks or what he does when he’s not around you?”
“He’s changed Harry, and you didn’t quite know him very well before either. I think you are in love with the person he is but can’t stop seeing him as the boy he once was…”
“what we mean to say is..”
“That I don’t deserve him”
“It’s not about deserving Harry, I’ve never been able to understand why people always talk about deserving. Love is not about deserving, but it is about communicating, and knowing each other. It is about trusting the person you are with, because you love them.”
“And we know you love him, the whole school is able to see you love him, but…”
“But?”
“but you both need to work in what that love means and how to coexist to continue that relationship without hurting each other.”
**Author's Note:**
> I did know, even before these guys were unable to contain their desire to remind me, that the procedure of Try Again was somewhat pressured, but I assured myself that it was not that big of a deal because it is just fanfiction, I’ve read so much worse and never felt the need to attack the writer, anyway I’m not winning anything by pleasing anyone and I’m not taking anything from them neither, everyone writes with as much sense as they fancy. I thought. And when I received the comments I didn’t quite understand what they meant. I even felt kind of childish writing this entry, but I couldn’t help the inspiration that came upon me.
>
> I may continue through this path if I have time in the near future (which is possible I won't have) especially because it seems interesting to me to explore if a relationship like this could be saved. |
22485785b8764dc68c12d10388023cb4 | ['16587ae6c63a434aa5734eb99729e6bd'] |
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> **This one was written by sparrowhaven, she's the one who started this sudden influx of short writings with my Sole so I have her to thank. These are very fun to come up with together! You should check her stuff out cuz she's awesome at writing.
Nick pinched the bridge of his nose with his “normal” hand. The girl stood in front of the synth with a grin, unphased by his annoyance. Hancock, the mostly rotted bastard, was kicking back in one of the two unbroken chairs in the office. The ghoul’s own smile matched the girl’s.
“So lemme get this straight.” Nick gestured at the girl. “You want to find this mythical ghoul that calls himself The Captain.” He moved his hand to indicate Hancock. “So you went to the mayor of Goodneighbor for help.”
“Got it right so far, Nicky.” The ghoul’s grin widened at the synth’s dark look. With the yellow gaze still on him he deliberately lifted a colonial-era boot and used its heel on the edge of the desk to lean back. The chair groaned in protest as it lifted two legs off the floor. “Oh I’m sorry, I mean DETECTIVE Nicky.” Hancock corrected himself cheerfully.
Instead of acknowledging him, Nick turned back to the girl. “And he brought you to me to find this ghoul.”
“Yep! That’s the story.” She rocked back and forth on her heels, still smiling.
“And WHY do you want me to find this Captain?” Exasperation started to creep into his voice.
“Because I have to find him! What more do you want?”
“Besides everything? I don’t even know your NAME much less why I should help you and jerky over here.” Hancock pressed a hand to where his heart would be.
“Nick Valentine! After all I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get?” The ghoul tried to sound properly offended, but the effect was ruined by his own snickering. The girl joined in, much to Nick’s annoyance.
Nick’s mind was already whirring from trying to figure out why Hancock had bothered to show up in person, but he always had extra processing power to assess someone new. She stood at about five feet tall, give or take an inch. Her brown hair was shockingly long, and pulled into a messy ponytail. From the tucked in oversized clothing and general lack of wear and stain, Nick figured she must have found her current outfit recently while scavenging. It was always hard for him to tell ages for young humans, but from her general proportions and the sound of her voice he put her age at somewhere in her late teens. Just a kid, really.
Nick tried not to think too hard about how thin she looked. “Your name, miss?”
The girl drew herself to her full height, which was just at the synth’s chest. “Catrene Luvere, mister Valentine.” She held a hand out automatically. Instead of awkwardly shaking hers with his “skeleton” hand, Nick used his intact one. Hancock, for his part, only cackled a little bit.
“Nick, please.”
“Hancock didn’t say you were a friend of his,” Catrene continued. It was hard to tell if she was oblivious to the gesture or just mindful. Nick decided to go with the latter.
“Simply put, we’re not. I do favors for him every so often and he sends folks to me and keeps the synth hunters off my trail.”
“He’s belittling our friendship, kid. We’re really the best of buds.” Hancock snarked while digging around in one of his coat pockets. Nick jabbed a metallic finger in his direction.
“If you’re gonna smoke, do it outside.”
The blunt was already in the ghoul’s mouth. His dark eye sockets met with the synth’s eyes. “What, it’s not like either of us are gonna die from a little smoke.” Nick stared, and then wordlessly gestured at the girl, who was busy lifting up part of his old coat to examine it. Hancock was unphased. “And?”
“You can’t just smoke in front of a kid, John. It’s bad for her AND you’ll just make her wanna try it for herself.”
“Hey there’s an idea–” Hancock was then struck by a realization. “Wait, you only wanna talk to me because SHE might get hurt? Man and I thought we had something here.”
“We don’t, and I haven’t even agreed to this idiotic venture.”
“I’d say your newfound attachment to Cat here says everything we need to know.”
“I’m not ATTACHED, I’m CONCERNED.”
“Which you only GET when you end up CARING aka getting ATTACHED–” A loud whistle interrupted the two. They both turned their heads to Catrene, who had a very satisfied expression on her face.
“Ladies, ladies, you’re both very pretty but we have a mission to go on.” With a flourish, the girl retrieved and unfolded a large map. It was as new as anything made from before the war went, and was marked in pen with modern day towns, landmarks and danger zones. In crayon were other markings and symbols that Nick couldn’t make heads or tails of but apparently were important. “I dunno where Captain went, but I’ve got info from all sorts of people about where he MIGHT be. If you’re not coming with me, Nick, I’m just gonna follow the rumors myself.”
The room was mostly silent for a long moment. Nick spent longer than he really needed to in order to think. He’d already made his decision. He hoped he wouldn’t end up regretting it. “Alright, alright, I’ll go with you.” The synth shoved his hands into his coat pockets and looked at Hancock. “You can go back to Goodneighbor, she’s gonna be in good hands.”
The ghoul grinned, striking a match and lighting his blunt as if he and Nick hadn’t just had an argument about it. “Oh man Nicky, I can’t believe you didn’t figure this one out.” Hancock blew smoke in the other’s synthetic face. “I’m going with you.”
Nick wondered if it was too late to change his mind. | d30d370ae8004312bbfed91aeb8f6e68 | ['16587ae6c63a434aa5734eb99729e6bd'] | The idle chatter continued and the footsteps got closer until all of a sudden the noise stopped. The sound of rain filled the air until a previously unspoken person spoke up. "Uh, found something?"
"Maybe." Shardo sounded contemplative. The only thing cluing the listeners in that the man was walking was the slight crunching sound of wet gravel under him. "Looks like... at least three people. One seriously injured."
A murmur came from the others. "Which way were they going?"
"Hard to say with all the rain, but if I had to guess..." The rain seemed sinister in the sudden silence.
Hancock gave Cat a look and mouthed the words 'on go'. The plan was to catch them by surprise and make a run for it. And the more time they wasted, the more soaked Nick got by the rain.
"One," The words come silently.
"Two-"
Before he even got to a 'three', the two sprung up from their hiding spot leaving Nick behind (for his own safety,) guns out but not blazing quite yet. "ALRIGHT BACK OFF, OR I'M GOIN' FERAL!" Hancock growled menacingly (as much as he was able.)
"Y-...YEAH, WHAT- WHAT HE SAID-" Cat stammered, shakily pointing the pistol towards the group.
The group stared at the mayor and the girl. There were four in total, with two already holding their hands up and eyeing each other warily. The third had slipped on the mud and landed on his backside. The fourth, a hooded figure, seemed to only be staring at them.
One of the men with his hands up spoke. "H-hey, listen now... We're not here to fight... It looks like you need help." He kept his eyes on Cat and Hancock. His companion wavered between looking at their faces, their guns, and the hooded figure that led them.
Off in the distance came a flash and the low rumble of thunder. The sound didn't take terribly long to reach them.
"And how am I supposed to believe somethin' like that huh? Surprised none of you are runnin' for the hills at the sight of me." Hancock always liked to puff himself up, but for good reason. He WAS the mayor of Goodneighbor after all, and his reputation definitely preceded him.
Cat glanced back behind her often towards the ditch. It was obvious someone else was down there.
The hooded man gave a low, humorless chuckle. "Well, if you were feral already, she'd've been dead for one. Since you're bothering to talk to me I'd say you're doing okay for now." His eyes fell on the rip in the ghoul's coat. "Seems you took a hit."
The fellow behind him spoke, nervousness creeping into his voice. "W-we're not trouble, p-promise! W-we're just scouting the border for our town, see? H-h-honest! We'd heard rumors about synths looking around the cannery and came out here to check'm out!"
"Hah. Got a mouth even while you got a gun pointed at your face. I like that. Not too smart though." Hancock squeezed his rifle just a little harder, remaining still. "...Now then, what town?" Could this be the place Nick was talking about?
The hooded figure moved suddenly to examine the ditch behind them.
"HEY- GET AWAY FROM THERE!" Cat's arms flew up and her gun went off, making everyone jump. Luckily, no one was hit.
The hooded figure ducked instinctively, his hood falling off in the process. His hands shot up afterwards, showing him to be very dark-skinned, with dark curly hair that had stuck to his face due to the rain. His eyes were very pale, so much so they almost seemed to glow in the dark on their own. "I just wanted to see who got injured. You guys are friends with Nick Valentine?"
The name seemed to pierce the bubble of tension. “Wait, they've got Nick Valentine?” One of the men asked.
"Oh my god, he's hurt?? I didn't think he COULD get hurt, Gawain--"
Gawain's expression turned to one of annoyance. "I swear to god Jerry I'm gonna shut you up if you don't shut yourself up." Slowly his hands came down, though he kept an eye on Hancock the entire time. "Bedevere town, if you GOTTA know."
What were the odds?
"Hey- hey he was talking about that place- we were supposed to go there to get out of the rain once it...well once it kind of STOPPED but it never DID-" Cat blurted out, throwing caution to the wind blowing over them.
Hancock screwed up his face as much as he possibly could. His weapon lowered. "Why am I not surprised to hear the ol' synth gets around?" He rushed over to the ditch and slide back down in the pick him up again, straining and grunting with the effort. "If you were headed to the cannery, then those synths were definitely there. Not anymore though, but we're kind of down one ourself."
A pungent odor came from the synth. His clothes were soaked with more than water. A dark, slick substance that looked like oil and smelled nauseatingly sweet like some kind of syrup stained his usually off-white shirt.
Shardo reached out to help, as did the others. "God, what assholes go and attack their own kind?" The muddied man smiled own joke. No one else laughed. "Teren, you and Jerry make yourselves useful and head back to let them know we're coming. And tell Rotin to have a table set up."
"Here, you watch for raiders, I'll take up this side." Gawain offered to Hancock. Jerry and the now-named Teren headed off ahead of everyone else.
"Well, for one... they're a bunch of mindless slaves working for the Institute." Hancock added offhandedly. "There weren't too many of 'em. They went down like flies." Despite all that had happened, he still found some comfort in bragging about their half-victory. It made his nerves jitter less. "Hey Cat! Let's go! I wanna get outta this rain. Don't much like feelin' like a soggy cardboard box."
Cat frowned, unsure how to really respond. Eventually, she nodded and followed behind everyone else. "How do you guys know him? Nick I mean. Did he stop by your town often?"
Shardo smirked. "Oh yeah, he's been visiting since we started the town. I think he also knew Dad? I dunno. He's not REALLY family but he's nearly as good as that. Well. At least to MY family."
Gawain rolled his eyes. "You're just gonna keep welding on branches to the Bedevere family tree, huh?"
"It's tradition." Shardo chuckled.
"Welding on branches??" Cat repeated, tilting her head a little, clearly confused.
The settlement got closer the farther they walked, and so did the thunder. Hail started to fall from the sky.
"For fuck's sake," The ghoul grumbled, his head sinking under his coat collar just a little bit like a turtle. He didn't care what these people have to say or banter about. "We should pick up the pace." The last thing he wanted was for Nick to suddenly just 'die' for real. "I -HATE- rain." A large piece of hail almost took his hat off his head.
With the growing storm and Hancock's temper, Shardo snapped his focus back to the task at hand. "I can tell you all about it when we get there." |
c3a4f98948c54dedb8bb9e82dbf1d474 | ['1670dc6e241c41dcb0edaa1e86530a24'] | I found myself running as fast as I could to his house. I remember just wanting to see him for myself. I started banging on his front door and when the door finally opened he was standing there just looking at me. I felt tears starting to form in my eyes. I jumped at him and hugged him, just repeating over and over "You're ok. You're ok" I felt his arms wrap around me in return "What? Did you think I'd join them like everyone else?" he seemed a bit mad that I'd think that but I just looked up at him from his arms, tears were falling down my face by this point "Of course not. I'd like to think I know my best friend, beside you want to be a Pro-Hero, so I know you'll become the best one there is" I was smiling up at him as he turned his face to the side "Yeah, whatever. Come on I need a good fight." He led me out to the back garden where he told me to get ready. I was about to ask if he was sure about this when I remembered that I would just be insulting his pride as a hero if I was to do that, so I got into my stance "Ready when you are." When he came at me I reduced the gravity on myself and jumped up in his direction, but I miss-timed the drop and his reaction time and we ended up in a tangle of limbs, that's when I realised that our lips where connected.
2. Chapter 2
**Thanks for reading my fanfic This story is going to fully divert from canon from here on out. More of the characters will be integrated more in the coming chapters. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. New chapter up next Saturday.**
* * *
"…" my mind was blank. I couldn't comprehend what was happening in that moment. It took me a minute to realise my eyes were closed, but when I opened them, a pair of shocked red stared back. I was about to pull away when we heard the front door slam open, "Oi! Brat, we're back!" we had separated to opposite ends of the garden before Bakugou's mother was even halfway through her sentence. "Oi! When your mother greets you on her return home, I expect to be welcomed back!" she yelled as she stomped to the back of the house. Once the back garden came within her sight and she saw me, her personality turned a whole 180°. "Ochako! You're here. It's so good to see you again" she said as she came towards me to pull me into a hug. "It's good to see you too Mrs. Bakugou" I pulled away from the hug awkwardly. "You're staying for dinner, right?" I looked over at Bakugou to see what he thought, but he was just staring back at me, still in a state of shock. "Ahh….yeah, sure, why not" I laughed nervously. I couldn't say no, not after how they treated me like family when they met me for the first time.
Dinner that night was….awkward, to say the least. Bakugou and I would make sure to not make any eye contact and when we did, we turned our heads away so fast I wouldn't be surprised if anyone heard our necks crack. Mrs. Bakugou was starting to get suspicious of our behaviour and looking between us with narrowed eyes without saying a word. Once dinner was over it was about time for me to leave to catch the last train headed out that night. I thanked Bakugou's parents for having me over again and we said our goodbyes. Bakugou walked me out to the gate and he looked like he wanted to say something but he wasn't able to form the words. "Thanks for dinner" I could feel the awkwardness coming back, so I forced myself to say one last thing "I'm glad you're safe". I didn't give him a chance to reply as I started running in the direction of the train station.
It'd been a week since then and we hadn't spoken to each other, either in person or over the phone like we usually did. I tried to make myself believe it was because we were preparing to move into the dorms, but I knew that wasn't it. When the day came for everyone to move into the dorms, I realised that Bakugou wasn't there. After everyone in class 1-A was finished unpacking, we all headed over to our classroom to be briefed on all of the dorm rules and regulations. Once I walked in I saw Bakugou sitting there, and I was about to walk over to him but Mr. Aizawa came in telling everyone to sit down. He explained what was expected of us once we had moved in. We had a 10:00pm curfew where we had to stay in the dorms from then on and lights out was by 11:00pm. "10! What about our social life?!" Kirishima shouted "How am I supposed to get girls while being chained down like this" Kaminari said despairingly. Bakugou turned to the two of them "How are you supposed to get anything when you had no fucking life to begin with." "You're so mean!" they had started crying dramatically by this point. I wasn't able to stop myself for laughing at them, that's when Bakugou turned in my direction and our eyes met for a second before he turned back around. I thought I saw a bit of red on his cheeks before he turned too. That's when I knew we needed to talk, because I missed sparring with him and our late night phone conversations and….I just really missed my best friend. | 2522b8adb05d4a3f8ecfc6f54e5b3ff2 | ['1670dc6e241c41dcb0edaa1e86530a24'] |
Little Game
It was just another Friday night of class 2-A, formally known as 1-A, in their dorm. Most of them were lounging about in the common room when Ashido decided to speak up “Let’s play a game.” That got everyone’s attention. Kirishima looked at her warily “What kind of game?” She motioned for them to get closer, so everyone gathered around in a circle. “We have to guess who likes who in our class” She smirked “I mean we’ve known each other for over a year now; let’s just see how well we actually know one another.” Some of the class were hesitant at first, but the thought of knowing who liked who was too tempting for them to back out now. “Who goes first?” Toru asked. Everyone looked at each other. Kirishima spoke up “Hey, let’s guess Todoroki first.” Todoroki glanced over at him “The first to speak should take the first round” Kirishima grinned “got something to hide?” “I could say the same” Todoroki raised an eyebrow at him. Before Kirishima could reply Denki broke in “enough with the back and forth, let’s just guess Todoroki first” Kirishima looked at Todoroki smugly “don’t worry Kirishima, your next” Kirishima’s face fell. “Midoriya?” everyone turned to look at who spoke. Ojiro looks at everyone confused “right?” Everyone looks at Todoroki for an answer but he just shakes his head no. “Damn, I shipped that” Ashido muttered while Kirishima sulked beside her “me too.”
Hagakure took a turn at guessing “what about Momo?” they all turn to look at Yaoyorozu, who’s ears started to go red, then over to Todoroki, who nods his head once making her go completely red. “I-Isn’t it Kirishima’s turn next?” Yaoyorozu forced out. “That’s not fun, it’s obvious he has a thing for Ashido” Sero commented leaning back while Kirishima went as red as his hair. “OK! Moving on,” Ashido butted in “does Bakugou like anyone?” that made most of the class laugh. Kirishima looks at her confused “well, yeah” that made everyone turn to him in shock. Sero chimed in “it’s pretty obvious who.” Denki started to laugh “Wait, you guys didn’t know?” they all nodded in unison, that’s when Jiro grabbed Denki by his collar “Who is it!?” Kirishima gets between them “Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but we are not at liberty to reveal that information” “Yeah we like our heads where they are, thanks” Denki added. That’s when the rest of the girls surrounded them “Tell us, NOW!” They started to sweat nervously and Sero was the first to break when he saw the girls reach for their weapons “OK, OK! She’s the only girl Bakugou calls by their name.” The girls step away from them thinking of who it could be.
Uraraka was standing in the kitchen area getting a glass of water, as she was in her room studying a few minutes before, when she overheard the rest of them talking. Curiosity got the best of her, so she took a seat and listened in on them. “I had believed everyone would have guessed it by now” Tokoyami said “It’s Uraraka.” “What!?” everyone shouted out, while Uraraka tried her best not to choke on her drink in the kitchen. At that moment Bakugou walked in to the common room while the others were still reeling from what Tokoyami told them. Mineta was the first to notice his arrival and walked up to him “Hey Bakugou, I would of thought you to go for the bold types.” Bakugou glares down at him “What are you talking about lech?” Ashido walks up beside him giggling and elbows his side “Uraraka huh?” she smirked “who knew you were into the sweet and innocent types.” Bakugou stilled as he processed what she just said. He snapped his head towards his friends, who started to sweat again and looked ready to commit murder. “It wasn’t us, we swear!” they begged. That’s when Iida joined the conversation “Now there’s no need for that, especially as Uraraka feels the same toward you.” They heard the sound of glass breaking and in the next moment a red faced Uraraka pops her head into the common room “Iida! I told you that in confidence!” Iida stood and bowed low “I apologise Uraraka. I have tainted our friendship, how will I ever make it up to you?” before she could respond a wide eyed Bakugou turned and left the dorms. Everyone watched as Uraraka ran out after him and once they were out of sight they all rushed over to the window to see what they would do next.
“Bakugou! Wait!” Uraraka called out to him. Bakugou stopped but didn’t turn around “What do you want now?” She stepped up beside him and took a deep breath “is it true?” “What?” he snapped back. She moved to stand in front of him “that you like me?” He looked away from her “Why the hell do you care if I do or not?” Bakugou was about to walk away when she grabbed his arm “It’s true. What Iida said, about me liking you.” Uraraka smiled at him “Even if what they said about you liking me isn’t true, it made me really happy. And I know you have no time for something as silly as romance, what with you wanting to become the number one hero and all. You wouldn’t want someone as fragile as me standing by your side.” She looked down as she felt tears starting to form in her eyes. She looked up as she felt hands hold on to her face. Bakugou makes her look into his eyes before saying “There ain’t anything fragile about you” then leaned down to kiss her. It was a short but sweet kiss. He pulled away “Tomorrow night, 6 o’clock, meet me here and dress nice.” Uraraka watched him walk away after that, and once he was out of sight she turned to go back into the dorms when she saw everyone pressed up against the windows gaping. She could just make out Denki sulking while handing what looked like money over to Kirishima and Sero.
Midoriya walked into the common room to see everyone looking out the window “what’s going on?” Denki grinned once he saw him “Bakugou just kissed Uraraka.” Midoriya smiled and turned towards Kirishima and Sero “Pay up” he said holding his hand out towards them. “Damn it” they groaned, handing over the money. Ojiro looked at the four of them confused “you bet on them?” Kirishima answered him “yeah, it was simple. The three of us bet they would get together, but Denki thought they wouldn’t have the balls” he smirked “but then the three of us made another bet. Sero and I bet Uraraka would be the one to kiss Bakugou first, but Deku bet that Bakugou would kiss Uraraka first” he groaned again “we won the first bet buts all the money on the second one.” “Ahhhhh!” everyone jumped and turned quickly towards Mineta, the source of the scream. Standing at the entrance of the dorm was Aizawa, staring everyone down with slightly narrowed eyes. “Lights out” no one moved “Now!” everyone scattered to their rooms and locked their doors. Aizawa sighed “Teenagers.” |
fbd6e2d0a4594ca29178a872ab2f8870 | ['167462625eee4ed7b86b2647ab440b75'] | “Don’t tell me you’re one of those chatty sparring partners,” Ros said.
“Will it make your day worse if I say I am?” he asked.
She scowled. “I’m not answering that.”
“You kind of already did,” he said, still giving her that annoying grin.
A lesser woman would have kicked him in the testicles for his irritating commentary. As a woman that was raised to value diplomacy and making offerings with one hand while the other moved in the shadows, Ros settled for feinting right before lunging for his unprotected left side. Lucas grunted as her foot connected with his side and fell back a step. She pressed the advantage. Lucas met her attacks defensively, blocking or side-stepping the majority of her attacks. Still, she managed to slip some hits past his defence. At one point, Lucas started to lunge at her before oddly changing his mind at the last minute. Ros gave him another right hook for it and got him solidly in the jaw.
Lucas scowled as he fell back a step from the force of her blow. He gently touched his fingers to his jaw before shaking his head once. Ros paused, cocking her head slightly. She hadn’t thought that she had hit him _that_ hard. Unlike before, Lucas didn’t take advantage of her hesitance. Instead, Lucas silently lifted his hands in surrender.
Ros smiled thinly. _I suppose that means I win_. The victory felt hollow, though. “No witty commentary?” she asked as she backed off.
“Thought you didn’t like chatty sparring partners,” Lucas muttered, tentatively rubbing his jaw.
“If you’re trying to trick me into answering that, it’s not going to work,” Ros said.
“So,” Lucas said. “Do I get to keep my job or should I polish up my curriculum?”
Her eyes narrowed. It was true, she had been silently evaluating him, but she hadn’t thought she was _that_ transparent. Still, she felt a surge of anger flash through her. Lucas had been… average at _best_ in their impromptu spar and he had the audacity to be flippant about it? Adam was _dead_ because Lucas couldn’t get the damn codes from Tranquility. Not for the first time, Ros wondered what Harry had been thinking sending _Lucas_ to get the codes from Tranquility. _You should have told him to drive the car and Adam to get the codes_ , she thought uncharitably.
Still, Adam was dead. She couldn’t change the past, no matter how much she may want to, and she was stuck with Lucas instead of Adam. Getting angry at him for not being a good fighter wouldn’t do her any good, not if she wanted him to start slipping up around her, which he wouldn’t do if she couldn’t find a way to chip at his guard. Forcing herself to give him a winning smile that she didn’t feel, Ros lied, “Not bad, I suppose.”
Lucas snorted, but gave no indication on if he believed her lie. “Careful, I might take that as a compliment.”
“I’ve fought little old ladies that gave me more challenge, though.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Ros noted the smirk didn’t quite make it to his eyes. It was disconcerting how often he did that, she decided. “I’m more concerned about the fact that you’re fighting little old ladies. What, can’t find anyone willing to fight you that might actually beat you?”
“Never was a fan of losing.”
“Evidently,” Lucas said as he turned on his heel. He lifted his hand in farewell, notably only holding up two fingers as he walked off. _Bastard_. She glared at his retreating back. Oh, she’d get even for that.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Zen's had a rough week and she requested (by hitting me over the head! :P ) I post the next chapter a bit early, so here we go! Did I just call out my lovely beta reader who helped me rework this scene until I was happy? Yes, yes I did. ;)
13. Chapter 13
In retrospect, sparring with Ros had not been one of Lucas’ best ideas. In fact, he would say it was about as brilliant as the time he had to – reluctantly, he remembered, **_very_** reluctantly – go undercover with Tessa. Which was to say, it was not bloody brilliant at all. At least the undercover operation had been due to an order. This morning had been sheer frustration at being glared at for daring to exist. Not to mention, the fact that she had broken into his bloody flat last night. He was still angry that she had broken into his flat. It didn’t matter that he would have done the same thing – and that he had done the same thing, just better because he knew what he was bloody well doing. He had spent eight years having interrogators enter and leave his cell. He was getting rather tired of past and present colleagues breaking into his flat. _This bloody well better not become a regular occurrence_. If it did, he might just take Tom up on his offer to sweep the flat. _Or maybe I’ll just fucking move and not tell anyone. Because that’ll go over so well_.
Still, Ros’ glares were starting to annoy him. Really, she could at least _pretend_ that she trusted him. He hadn’t missed her glare when she had seen him in the gym and then, when he tried to do her the courtesy of leaving her to work out without his apparently offensive presence, she had started poking and prodding, trying to get a feel for him. So he gave her something, and he gained something in return. | 536266e945484da0984488be6dc4d398 | ['167462625eee4ed7b86b2647ab440b75'] | Ros tilted her head. The other woman was good, Ros would give her that. Gemma Wright was a well-known name in the intelligence community and had built a reputation for being a chess master that excelled at getting what she wanted, often without the other party any wiser until it was too late. She had mastered the art of drawing attention to one hand while the other moved in the shadows, pushing pieces into place. Ros just couldn’t tell which hand she was being offered. She very much doubted that Lucas was given the promotion simply because Harry thought he was good at the job. _Isn’t that how_ ** _I_** _got the job, though?_ Harry had promoted her because she was good at what she did and there had been no one else. Had Lucas been the same? _Surely there would have been_ ** _someone_** _better suited than a kid with only two and a half years of experience?_
“Is that all?” Gemma asked after a moment.
Ros smiled again. “I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Gemma said, gesturing towards Ros. “Anything to help.”
“Did you trust him?” Ros asked. It was direct, but Ros had a feeling that, had she asked the question any other way, Gemma would find a way to dodge the question. And, Ros wanted to gauge just how much Gemma trusted Lucas. She already knew Harry had his blinders on when it came to Lucas. She wanted an unbiased, second opinion on what Lucas had been like and if he had shown any signs that maybe he wasn’t what he said he was. And, if Gemma _did_ have blinders where Lucas was concerned, then Ros would know to be even more wary of him. After all, anyone that could con not just one, but _two_ Section Heads was someone that Ros wanted to keep a _very_ close eye on. _Particularly when there’s a very good probability that he’s turned_. Lucas might have convinced Harry by handing him Kachimov, but Ros didn’t get to where she was by believing everything she saw.
“Implicitly,” Gemma said firmly, without hesitation. She looked at Ros directly. “Why?”
Ros smiled thinly. “I’m sure you know that he was recently returned to us?”
“I heard as much, yes,” Gemma confirmed. When Ros opened her mouth to ask another question, Gemma cut across her and said, “If you’re concerned that the FSB turned him, allow me to assure you that they didn’t. I know Lucas. You won’t find someone more loyal to Harry, to MI-5, than Lucas North.”
Ros schooled her features carefully, hiding her frustration. She didn’t share Gemma’s conviction that Lucas was loyal to Harry. Gemma hadn’t been privy to her and Lucas’ conversation about if Harry could be trusted and didn’t know that Lucas was questioning Harry. _If you knew that he questioned Harry, would you still trust him?_
“Of course,” Ros said amiably. No matter what intel the question would have given her, she wasn’t about to show Gemma all of her cards. “I also had a question about his file.”
“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” Gemma asked. Her tone was jovial, but her eyes told a different story, and Ros had the distinct impression that she was being sized up. _I’m not as easy to chew up as one might think_ , Ros thought coldly as she held Gemma’s stare. If Dolby couldn’t intimidate her, then she certainly wasn’t about to be intimidated by Gemma Wright, no matter what the intelligence community had to say about her. After all, Gemma wasn’t the only one with a reputation in the Service.
“One of my many personality quirks,” Ros quipped. “About his file?”
“Yes, of course.”
“There’s some missing information. I was hoping you could help fill in the pieces?”
Gemma lifted an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting MI-5 did not thoroughly vet him?”
“No,” Ros said. “I’m suggesting that there’s nothing in the file before 1995 and I’m _assuming_ Lucas didn’t just pop out of the ground, fully grown, at age twenty. He has no next of kin. No parents. No siblings. No family. No birthplace,” Ros pressed. “Surely you would have done a background check on him when he was recruited and discovered that information?””
Gemma steepled her fingers and said in a reproachful tone, “Ms. Myers, while I admire your dedication to ensuring that Lucas has not betrayed his country, I assure you, these… _missing pieces_ in his file are likely missing for a reason. Harry had Lucas thoroughly vetted and, if there was anything in his past that would have raised suspicion, it wouldn’t be missing from his file, now would it? So, if there _is_ something missing in Lucas’ file, I would suggest you respect that fact. After all, I’m certain no one in Section D is without their own skeletons that they would prefer to be kept private.”
The threat was thinly veiled. Even Malcolm would have been able to pick up on it, Ros thought. But, the threat also told Ros more than she was certain Gemma meant to tell her. Whatever was in Lucas’ past, Harry knew about it. Likely, Gemma knew it too. Ros rather doubted that Gemma would have been the type to remain blissfully in the dark about officers under her direction. _So why are you hiding it?_ What was so important in Lucas’ past - _or damning_ , Ros thought - that he had both Harry and Gemma willing to omit it from his files, even at the risk of national security? If the FSB _had_ turned Lucas, knowing who his family was could help MI-5 get him to roll over on his new bosses. |
d31a9ec35a904d42b96e019ba46491bb | ['1685c02d071c4d10b3d59c2a0d13e91f'] | “You play so beautifully and you look so beautiful playing.” Kyle watched him play Märchenbilder, Op. 113 by Schumman, it had this dreamy fairy tale quality to it and he didn’t have the heart to tell him it actually worked best if he had a piano accompanist. Tweek used to do that for him and he had actually competed in music competitions with it for the school. He had shiny blue ribbons at home for his effort.
“This is one of my favourite pieces. Also Romeo and Juliet by Sergei Prokofiev, it's so beautiful. The best version is arranged by Vadim Borisovsky. It makes me feel things when I listen to it.” He told him. He had so many more he loved to play and he could honestly talk about it all day. He rarely played for anyone, only Tweek and Lola, his usual competition partner. Kyle didn’t look bored or like he would rather change the subject. He liked listening to Craig talk about the things that were important. The timber of his voice and how quiet he was. He was someone who said very little, he didn’t like to fill up space with words that meant nothing. When he spoke, it was important and he had to lean in to hear him sometimes. He reached for his thin waist and pulled him close for a moment.
“Play me something else beautiful.” He leaned back against Craig’s pillow that smelled like his hair and watched him close his dark eyes as he played the opening bars of Romeo and Juliet. Star crossed lovers whose fates were trying to pull them apart. It certainly wasn’t hitting a nerve or anything. He played for Kyle until it started to grow dim in the room and the tips of his fingers were growing calloused. He gently placed his viola in its case and made sure all the music was put back in it’s folder. Then he crawled on the bed and laid next to Kyle. It was quiet, gentle. One of those fragile moments where if you breathed too loud, it would shatter the moment. He felt Kyle’s arms around his thin waist and he buried his face between his shoulder blades. The setting sun casting the room in a peachy sort of glow. He never wanted this moment to end.
“I really like you kitten.” Kyle murmured against his back. He turned gently in his arms and pressed his forehead to Kyle’s. He traced his slim finger over his groomed eyebrows and the curve of his cheek bones. He touched the corners of Kyle’s mouth, slightly upturned in a smile. He kissed his fingertips gently and pulled him closer to his body. This would be the moment they normally kissing each other like they were dying. It always lead to sex and at point Craig thought that was all they had in common. Now, all he wanted to do was find out more about Kyle. Spend quiet time with him. Watch movies and talk about music and art and life. Kyle questioned the world around him and he was interested in philosophy and he was so smart and looked so fucking stupid and he didn’t understand this walking contradiction of a man. Who was Kyle Broflovski and why did he look like Pauly D, but have a brain that rivaled Wendy Testaburger, the smartest person he knew. It killed him and it made him want to poke below the surface and figure out who this person is. He had so little time and he was so invested. There was only two ways this could end up, tragedy or a fond memory.
He was sitting at the bay window talking to Token over facetime about college around the corner.
“Nichole and I broke up.” Token told him quietly during a lull in the conversation. “She’s going to be at USC, I'm going to be at Dartmouth, it wasn’t going to work.” He shrugged like that was the way the universe worked. Sometimes you loved someone and sometimes it didn’t work. You had to accept it.
“You two don’t think you could have made it work?” He put down the cup of tea he was sipping. “You two were together so long.” He thought about Tweek and how they couldn’t make it work either. Theirs was a different ball game though. They had grown too friendly with each other. It felt like two friends who enjoyed hanging out and having sex. He loved Tweek, but after a while, he didn’t know if he was in love with him.
“No dude. I mean, Nichole is going to be in LA and Im across the country. I'm not going to make her sit around in a dorm room waiting for my call and missing out on things. Only see each other at breaks. She deserves to meet people and have fun. Have new experiences you know?” He watched him pick up a picture of a Nichole in a frame on his desk and put it down. Them at prom, they looked happy. “I want things to end on a high note and not resentment.” He pointed out.
“Yeah I know, Tweek and I ended as friends too. “ He agreed softly. He wondered if he should tell him about Kyle. “But, I met this boy this summer and I don't think we’ll be in the same place next year.” He trailed off quietly. | 99968a0f93354337ab433626bff4f22f | ['1685c02d071c4d10b3d59c2a0d13e91f'] | They fell asleep in his little Red Racer tent, zipping their sleeping bags together so it was one big sleeping bag. Craig’s pajamas matched, they had tops and bottoms and it was cute. He looked like a little old man with his blue striped pajama top and shorts. He had no hat on and his feet were bare. He never realized how naked Craig looked without his hat, just soft black hair on his star printed pillow case. Tweek felt himself sort of curl around Craig, his arms around Craig’s thin waist. His stuffed guinea pig on one side of them and the battery powered lantern on the other. They slept so peacefully that night, he had never really slept that peacefully before.
The middle school was bigger than their elementary school and there were multiple lunch periods. Craig wasn’t in a single one of his classes, even his electives, French and orchestra were different from Tweek’s, drama and band. They didn’t drive to school together either, Craig was in a carpool with Kyle Broflovski, who was in all of Craig’s academic classes, Stan Marsh, who kissed Craig in the sixth grade, that’s right, he didn’t forget that. Red Tucker, his cousin who was pretty and popular and would had a thriving social life. He would meet Craig by his locker every morning, thermos of coffee in hand and walk him to his first hour. He had algebra and Tweek had social studies and Kenny was in this class at least. He would sit and watch the clock, school was so boring. It didn’t hold his attention like it should and even with the adderall, he still felt bored and his mind wandered. He thought about Craig and how he looked in his new blue sweater. How it felt to hold his hand between classes and how lucky they were they had lunch together. Clyde wasn’t in any of their lunches and the only person he had was Cartman.
He saw Craig walking with Kyle after their second period to his locker. He had the locker next to him and they were deep in conversation. Kyle had gotten taller, he cut his red hair short. He looked older than he did last year, he was starting to resemble a teenager than a kid. Craig and him still had slight baby faces, he wanted to blame the coffee for this. He looked engaged though, like whatever Kyle was telling him was important, he would nod his head along with him and he saw him write something down in Kyle’s notebook. He wasn’t trying to be difficult or jealous, but it hurt for some reason. He certainly couldn’t burst over there like a maniac. He didn’t understand why he felt this wave of jealousy, why lately he felt a wave of jealousy every time Craig showed interest in anything else. He was a kid and he was trying to hold on to what he had, while trying to give Craig space to be his own person.
He felt them growing apart, Craig spent most of his time studying and doing homework. He joined the French club and the science club. He spent his time working with the drama club, playing the drums or working in his parents’ shop. Craig was busy, he was busy and Craig just seemed distant. They were working to outgrow the childish things that defined their elementary school relationship. It wasn’t a big surprise when he saw Craig looking nervous at the coffee shop one day.
“Hey baby.” Tweek sat down across from him and he looked into those big sad eyes and he knew. Something wasn’t right and he knew it was going to hurt. But he had to let Craig be his own person for a while. That’s what he wanted, he wanted a chance to be his own person outside of them.
“I think we should talk. I really do like you Tweek, but I think I want to see who I am outside of us. You’re still one of my best friends.” He put one of his soft tan hands in Tweek’s and he squeezed it. “You’re my husband after all.” He was sniffling a little bit, but tried to laugh. Even when you’re doing the dumping, it still hurt. Everything about this hurt, but they were kids and they had to see what else was out there. Meet new people and have new experiences and see if this was even real. Did they trick themselves into a relationship because that’s what everyone wanted for them? Or did they really like each other?
“We’re still friends.” Tweek assured him. It hurt, he had never experienced hurt like this. He thought about not holding Craig’s hand and Craig not kissing him on the cheek before class. He thought about not seeing the new Marvel movie with him. They were going to be friends, they had history. But goddammit if this didn’t hurt. If he didn’t feel like he was dying and the breath was knocked out of him. |
7b7d81aedc86486a9af97dce63c80c94 | ['16a2611de4ab421a826545f0c281d3cb'] | The whole court had been on edge since Regina discovered she had a sister in another realm. A sister in another realm who had a very handy and destructive way to travel to their own realm. Their kingdom had a good relationship with the giants, but getting a magic bean still meant months of debate, contracts, and general diplomatic hell. No matter how many times Emma asked Anton to just do her a favor and smuggle her a bean on the sly, he never did anything but laugh. But apparently, Zelena could just snap her fingers and a whirling vortex of doom would appear to suck her to another world. Regina had delivered this news with extra snide bluster to cover the anxiety in her eyes.
If Zelena’s power was so strong it gave Regina pause, there was definitely cause for alarm.
“Plus,” Henry said, emboldened, “he shows up just when we’re getting ready to throw a wedding.”
Everyone glanced at Philip and Aurora who shared a nervous look themselves.
“It’s possible that Zelena is angling for a marriage alliance, but she couldn’t have known about the wedding,” Snow said.
“Please,” sneered Regina. “Mirror spells can cross realms. If there are mirrors in Oz, you can bet she’s used them to spy on us.”
There was an uneasy murmur around the table. Mirrors had been banned from the council chambers as soon as Regina had become a member.
Leroy growled. “We just wrapped up the War of Broken -”
Snow cut the dwarf off with an “ _ ahem _ ,” and a pointed look. Emma closed her eyes, exasperated with her mother’s lack of subtlety.
“Uh, the um, war with Maleficent,” Leroy amended.
“The peace has held strong for over seven years,” Archie said.
Leroy harrumphed. “Like I said, we just finished with one crazy witch -” (“no offense,” he muttered to Regina, who shrugged) “- now we gotta deal with another one!”
“As I said,” David’s voice rang out over the ensuing chatter. “All the more reason to consider building a friendly relationship.”
“Through marriage?” Henry asked, skeptical.
Everyone turned to look at Emma.
“Marriage isn’t something to be rushed into,” Snow said, sternly.
Emma tried to give her mother a look that said _ It’s fine _ . “I agree with Dad. We should be open to a genuine offer of friendship.”
Regina grumbled.
“ _ But _ , we should be ready for anything.”
That seemed to placate the sorceress, and the King and Queen nodded their approval.
The meeting didn’t last much longer, and Emma and her parents drew the visiting prince and princess aside as they all trooped out of the council chambers.
They were a picturesque pair: Philip handsome and doting, and Aurora pretty and kind - if a little reserved. But as they followed the king to a secluded alcove in the hallway, they looked weary, anxious.
“We’re not going to let anything interrupt the preparations for your wedding,” Snow said.
Emma smiled to herself. “Romantic” was not a strong enough term to describe her mother. When she was young, off studying magic, Emma remembered reading letters from the queen, mortified at her attempts to subtly gauge if Emma was lovestruck. The annoying part was that Snow had an uncanny ability to guess the object of Emma’s infatuation. More annoying was that Emma’s romances tended to end in disaster, but that was neither here nor there.
“Absolutely,” David said, laying a hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “You’re father entrusted us with you because he knows we can keep you safe. And we will.” He glanced at Emma who nodded on cue, making sure to look tough and capable.
“We know,” Philip said. “And we’re no strangers to the threat of magic.”
Aurora had been a sort of casualty of the war. Maleficent had somehow whisked the princess away to a place even the dragon couldn’t find. There, she cursed her to sleep forever. Or at least until Philip finally tracked Aurora down and woke her with True Love’s Kiss.
The war may have ended with the treaty seven years ago, but Aurora had only been awake for half that time. Peacetime had only served to make her family nervous, apparently.
Now, the princess clutched her prince’s arm and nodded dutifully, smiling. Emma noticed that it was kind of a stiff smile. There was a faint discomfort in Aurora’s eyes.
_ Huh _ . Emma made a note to find the girl later and double down on the security talk.
For now though, it was a rare day where Emma’s only pressing duty had been a council meeting. She was going to dodge the wedding planning by taking her son out to joust.
Sort of. Henry was still a little short to wield her lances, but he practiced with smaller ones of the same weight. He smashed them on wooden targets and Emma handed him new ones. Their usual roles were reversed - Henry was her squire during tournaments - and she faked insult whenever Henry felt it necessary to critique her techniques. When Walsh found them, they were splattered with mud and smelled like horse. Emma was yelling, “Excuse me? I was doing this before you were born, you little runt,” over Henry’s laughter.
Henry sobered when he noticed their visitor, calling, “Hey, Walsh.”
Emma turned to see the subject of this morning’s meeting smiling at their antics, gold cloak flapping cheerfully in the breeze. Walsh was tall, thin, and handsome in an unintimidating way. He had dark eyes and hair - which he kept artfully mussed.
“I was just exploring the grounds,” he said. “I didn’t realize there was a tourney going on.” He made a little bow to Henry. “Congratulations, my lord. Although I have to say, your opponent looked a bit...sickly.”
Henry scoffed. “Don’t compete if you’re not fit for the fight.”
Walsh gave an exaggerated wince. “Ruthless, huh?” | 127b151ac0d44885ae6fbfed4665cd17 | ['16a2611de4ab421a826545f0c281d3cb'] | The chatter from his men grew louder. The girl, meanwhile, was looking at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“You may not consider me the most honorable man,” Killian continued, “but I do honor my agreements.”
“You promised to let me go free if I led you to Rumple.”
“And you didn’t lead me to him.”
“But that was where --”
“Regardless,” Killian snapped, rubbing his temple. “You did do an excellent job of getting us to our destination quickly. You’re good with maps and books and the stars, and with a bit of coaching, you might even make a decent pilot.”
She blinked at Killian’s dry praise. “And where would we go?” she asked.
Killian grinned at that. “Well, you’d be a pirate, love,” he said. “We go wherever we want.”
Ah, yes, that seemed to reach her. Killian had read her right. The girl had wanderlust.
Still, she was wary, justifiably so. “Where will I sleep?”
There was only one place, but Killian paused nevertheless, anticipating the backlash.
“The same place, the smaller cabin next to my quarters would be yours permanently.”
There was a titter from Smee, to whom the cabin had belonged to originally. And from the back of the crowd, there rose a jealous roar of “ _ Captain. _ ”
“ _ Stephens _ ,” Killian roared back. “ _ Keep questioning your captain’s orders and you’ll be joining Carstairs. _ ”
That was enough to silence any more objections.
“Well, then, lass,” he said, eager to get this over with. “In or out?”
She was silent, thinking, and Killian watched an odd sort of light creep into her eyes. After a moment, he recognized it. The girl was hopeful.
But she still fixed him with a shrewd glare when she asked. “What happens if I’m out?”
Killian considered the question. Considered what she was really asking. It was rather frightening. Frightening to realize what he was really asking of her. Frightening to show his hand in front of the rest of his crew.
But if nothing else, he refused to let the night be a complete failure.
So he said, “If you’re out, love, you’re free to go. I won’t stop you.”
And she smiled.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> And we're off! This is my third attempt at a multi-chap ever. For anything. Cross your fingers I stick with this one. As with everything I write, this is going to be way too long and way too convoluted, so strap the hell in.
> Sorry if Emma’s speech sounds too modern for your curseless au tastes. I just can’t picture her too flowery no matter what world she’s in.
> Come debate how “The Jolly Roger” should be shortened with me!! I'm LINK on tumblah.
2. Funny How This Whole Game Played
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Title from HAIM’s "LINK," which you can feel free to listen to while you read this.
_ Three years later... _
Emma wore armor during council meetings. The court loved its ceremony. She didn’t mind though, it wasn’t uncomfortable. She’d much rather be wearing it in the warm council chambers, arguing about diplomacy, than on a mud and blood-streaked battlefield.
“If there’s a chance that her offer of an alliance is genuine, we need to consider it.” Her father stood from his place at the table, cloaked and crowned. Depending on how long and how heated the meeting got, he might start shedding layers.
At Emma’s side, Regina - who was often the cause of those long and turbulent sessions - scoffed.
“Zelena is my sister. And you think she can be genuine?”
Emma’s mother gave the sorceress a pointed look. “Well considering you’ve become a friend and member of this council, yes.”
Regina looked as if she’d swallowed a bug with that statement. Emma wrestled down a laugh. Regina didn’t like too much attention paid to her softer traits.
“Shouldn’t we talk about the...the offer itself?”
Everyone turned to look at Henry who, as her son, occupied the chair to Emma’s right.
Henry glanced around at them a little nervously. Emma tilted her head when his gaze landed on her, encouraging him. Her boy was young, barely thirteen. He hadn’t been coming to the council meetings long and was still getting used to commanding the room.
“Well,” he continued, “I mean, she sends this man who’s around your” - he gestured toward Emma - “age. She says he’s a high ranking and trusted lord...Says she hopes he can ‘forge a bond’ between our courts?” He gave the rest of the council an expectant look.
“What are you getting at, sonny?” Leroy snapped. Henry flushed and Emma shot the knight a glare.
Henry forged ahead. “I’m just saying...it sounds like she expects this to be a marriage alliance.”
There was an uneasy shift around the table.
Henry was voicing the obvious, really. Walsh had arrived a few days earlier - with no announcement, but “maybe it was too much trouble to send word between realms” Emma’s mother had rationalized - bearing gifts for the whole family. Munchkin-made weaponry for King David and Henry. Clothing for Queen Snow. For Emma? Flowers and jewels. He’d kissed her hand on their introduction with a cheeky little smile. He’d paid just a bit more attention to Emma than everyone else at dinner that night, their conversation edging on playful when no one else was listening. He’d asked her to lead his tour around the castle the next day and listened with what looked like genuine fascination as she told him about their kingdom, their world. Every now and then he’d provide a thoughtful question or a quip that actually made Emma laugh.
It reeked of courtship. |
dce2465f696141258cabd1392c85af3e | ['16b42bdf1e854583afa95bebf062ade7'] |
took a sip of something poison but i'll hold on tight
**Author's Note:**
> This really just started out as domestic Tony/Steve fluff and then somehow there was Pepper and Bucky and sex! I don't even know.
>
> Thanks to LINK and LINK for the beta work, with extra thanks to the latter for understanding when I sent her a message asking, "there are so many dicks. what am i supposed to do with all of these dicks?"
Somewhere along the way, they settle into a morning routine.
Steve's alarm goes off at five. He and Bucky (on his right) both militarily snap awake as Pepper (on his left) reaches for his phone on the side table, cursing it as her hand searches. When she finds it, it she throws it onto Steve's chest and he turns it off before untangling himself from whatever their bodies have decided to do during the night. He kisses the already-back-asleep Pepper on the cheek, kisses the grumbling-about-being-awake Bucky on the mouth, and kisses the still-dead-as-a-rock Tony (on Bucky's right) on whatever isn't buried under blankets before heading out for his morning jog.
(He asks Pepper once if it bothers her. She laughs and says, "I thought about asking Tony to make an alarm that only you could hear -- I don't know, something that just fit in your ear maybe? -- but you were gone that week, and I still woke up at 5:00 and was back asleep by 5:02 and I decided I really didn't mind it that much.")
He gets back around 6:15 and is out of the shower by 6:30, just in time for Pepper to mumble a 'good morning' as she stumbles in (though on the mornings he takes longer, she just steps right in and joins him.) Once dressed, Steve makes breakfast, ready right on time as Pepper strolls down the stairs in her heels and suit, briefcase at her side. Bucky follows in just his boxers, wiping sleep from his eyes and his hair a mess.
Tony is really the only variable in this equation. He might come down at any time, griping about how the coffee is cold, or he might never have gone to bed in the first place.
The alarm rings, Pepper curses, Bucky grumbles, and Steve sits up. The room is still dark. As his eyes are adjusting, a blue glow appears at the other side of the room and he hears a voice say, "Shit. What time is it?"
"Tony?" Steve whispers.
"Anyone else usually sneak into this room in the middle of the night?"
Steve can see Tony now as he walks towards the foot of the bed. He's still wearing yesterday's t-shirt and jeans, and his hair is sticking out in ways that mean he's probably been repeatedly running his hand through it for quite some time.
"Tony, it's five in the morning. You should probably get some sleep."
"No can do, Cap. I actually just came up here to grab a pair of Pepper's heels."
"Why do you need Pepper's heels?"
"It's a surprise. You'll find out on her birthday."
Steve feels Pepper shift next to him and she says, "Goddammit, Tony, my birthday isn't for another six months. Whatever you're doing can wait. Just get in bed."
"That's not fair, Pep, you're supposed to be asleep. Now everything is ruined and nothing will be a surprise."
"I could probably think of a million things you'd want to do with my shoes, and none of them would be correct."
"You really underestimate your cleverness sometimes, you know that?"
"Tony," Steve and Pepper say in unison, and Bucky's voice joins them for, "Bed," and adds, "Seriously, fuck you. Her shoes will be there tomorrow. Stop talking and let me go back to sleep."
Steve sees Tony's face shift into a grin as he flips Bucky off, despite the fact that Bucky's eyes are closed. "Yeah, okay," Tony says as he pulls his shirt off and crawls onto the bed, eyes fixed on Steve, "bed."
Tony continues up the bed and straddles Steve's lap, mumbling, "Not going back to sleep any time soon, are you, Steve?" as he throws his arms over his shoulders. The skin at Steve's neck prickles as Tony winds his fingers through his hair. Tony doesn't wait for an answer, just covers Steve's mouth and kisses him slow and filthy and with more tongue than is really necessary.
Steve feels the hard press of the arc reactor, warm through his shirt, and wraps an arm around Tony, pressing him closer. He takes half a second to think that they should maybe move this somewhere else, but he can't help it when he moans into Tony's mouth. Tony pulls back, a wicked grin on his face, and says, "Quiet there. Wouldn't want to wake the other two up," then leans back in to kiss Steve again, his hands working under the hem of his shirt.
It's right then that Bucky grunts and rolls over, the weight of his right arm falling into Steve's lap between his and Tony's bodies and his face pressing against Steve's hip. "I give up," Bucky says, words muffled, "just... ugh. Give me time to get my body moving."
"Atta boy," Tony says. He lifts Bucky's hand to his mouth and slowly sucks two fingers in, eyes locked with Steve's. | 85f948bb94af4b66b6fb77b13570672b | ['16b42bdf1e854583afa95bebf062ade7'] | Peggy bursts out laughing so hard she has to steady herself on Steve's arm.
"Wait, _what_?" Steve asks, looking from Peggy to Nat and back again.
"Oh, it was years ago," Peggy says between laughs. "Lord, I'm surprised that hasn't been brought up yet, honestly."
"So are we going to get the story?" Bucky asks.
"She ran SHIELD. I was the Red Room's best. It was inevitable, really."
"So how did your other mission for the night go?"
"There wasn't one," Natasha says, and Peggy looks over at her to see a smirk growing on her face as she shoves her shoulder against Bucky. "This one had promised me the night of my life if I finished my mission in time."
"You knew about this?" Steve asks, still sounding slightly alarmed.
"I didn't know about this until now! When was this?"
"NYC, 1961."
"Oh, _that_ night. Right. We had separate missions in the same city. I told her if she finished hers before I had to leave we could meet somewhere."
"Well, James Buchanan Barnes, I'd like to thank your sexual allure for saving my life."
"It was the arm, in all honesty," Natasha says. "A quick fuck is a quick fuck at the end of the day, but a quick fuck involving a bionic arm? You've got to take advantage of that when you've got it."
Steve throws his head back and laughs. "So the Red Room actually put themselves at a disadvantage with that one, huh?"
"That was my only botched assassination, actually," Natasha says, her tone taking a more serious turn, "And honestly, if we'd had any idea Peggy had a version of the serum, well, it would have gone very differently."
Peggy reaches out for Natasha's hand to give it a small squeeze, not even sure what she means to say by it. _I'm not one of your debts_ maybe, or _What's done is done_. She doesn't know what all Natasha carries with her from her past, what kind of terms she's come to with herself over the years, so Peggy doesn't say anything, and knows Natasha will take what she needs from the silence Peggy grants her.
She's lived almost a hundred years and has at least a hundred more to go. There are so many clichés about the past, about it being either clung to or forgotten, about time healing all wounds, and she still hasn't decided if they're all true, or if none of them are. She'll figure it out one day, or maybe she won't. She won't be alone, though, however it goes, and in the end, that's really all she could ask for.
**Works inspired by this one:**
* [[Podfic of] our bruises are coming, but we will never fold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097777) by LINK |
28887c581bd14f159b36f5164652e0e1 | ['16bb3bf560a847ac98352e8799c68f2b'] | _“I will never stop holding your hand, I will never stop opening your door. I will never stop choosing you, babe,”_ his grip on her suddenly tightened. _“I will never get used to you.”_ Lucy wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn she felt him quivering as he held her tight in his arms. A soft kiss to his lips and a soft kiss back told one another that they would be together forever.
10. Chapter 10
“Lu-chan, your baby is going to be due in a couple of months, right?” Levy asked her one day.
“Yup, less than three months about,” Lucy answered with a smile, nonchalantly rubbing her belly. She couldn’t believe that she was really going to have a little baby soon.
“You’re not scared at all?” Levy questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Aren’t you afraid it’s gonna hurt?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Lucy confessed.
“But Lucy’s tough, just like me! And I’ll be right there next to her,” Natsu said, who was snuggled up behind Lucy with his head on her shoulder. Levy stared straight through him, her lips pressing together as she draped her arm over her knee.
“Natsu, have you even left Lucy’s side since the wedding?” she asked, leaning forward as she spoke.
“Of course I’ve left her side since then!” Natsu exclaimed indignantly. “I’m not a psycho!”
“Oh, please, Natsu,” Erza retorted, sticking a fork into her cake. “You couldn’t go one afternoon without being next to Lucy.”
“I can so, _Erza_!” Natsu spat, emphasizing Erza’s name with fire. Cana laughed next to Levy, slamming her mug down with gusto.
“Alright, fine, your afternoon away from Lucy starts now. Get out,” she hollered, jabbing her thumb at the door. Natsu’s eyes widened, picking his head off of Lucy’s shoulder in shock.
“Wha, wait, right now? W-Why?”
“Because we’re throwing a baby shower for Lucy.” Lucy clapped her hands together in delight as she looked around at all her friends. “You’re tough, you can get through it.”
“You’re throwing me a party?” she asked excitedly.
“That’s right, and _men aren’t invited!_ ” Cana mocked, sticking her tongue out and pulling her lower eyelid down.
“Wait, that’s not fair! I’m the father, shouldn’t I be invited?”
The girls touched their index fingers to their chins in a sarcastic way, fake thinking before they all collectively said, “ _NO._ ”
Natsu’s lips pressed together in irritation. Lucy glanced towards him in sympathy, setting her hand on his cheek and placing a soft kiss to the other. “It’s okay. It’s only for one afternoon,” she told him quietly. “Take some time with Happy, go fishing and have some you time, I don’t mind.”
Natsu’s green eyes pleaded with her to come up with an excuse, but he knew there was no relenting on Lucy’s part. And it had been a while since Natsu and Happy went fishing. “Okay,” he sighed after a couple minutes and standing up from the barstool. He took her chin in his hand and pulled her towards him, placing a long kiss on her lips. “I’ll miss you…” he whispered, eyes downcast and a small blush creeping across his cheeks. He rubbed her tummy softly before turning and heading out of the guild.
“I. AM. SO. JEALOUS,” Cana cried, squishing Lucy’s cheeks under her palms. “You getting knocked up was the best thing that ever happened to you!”
“Wha, don’t refer to my pregnancy that way!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, don’t get your panties in a twist!” Cana laughed, carefully pulling Lucy to her feet. “Alright, everyone will be here any minute, so let’s get to the next room. Everything is already set up!”
Lucy was lead to the smaller room next to the main hall they used for small parties (because it’s Fairy Tail and they need an extra party room) to see it clad in pinks and blues and tiny bottles and binkies. Lucy’s lips curled into a warm smile as she scanned the room, her eyes finally falling upon her friends standing behind her.
“You guys did all of this for me?” Cana rubbed Lucy’s hair affectionately as the girls pulled her into a group hug, Juvia nuzzling her face to Lucy’s cheek.
One by one, Lucy’s girlfriends walked into the party room, setting their gifts on the table and coming over to feel Lucy’s big tummy. When it came time to opening gifts, Lucy made sure to go through them one by one and thank the person who gave it to her.
“Oh, this one is from Flare,” Levy told her as she handed the gift over.
“A hair brush, how nice!” Lucy exclaimed.
“I-I-I hope you like it, Blondie,” Flare stuttered, a red blush creeping across her cheeks. “I-It’s a special brush that easily removes tangles from even the messiest hair…”
“Oh, wow! I’ll probably be using that on Natsu even more than our kid!” Lucy giggled. “Thank you!”
“Juvia’s next, Juvia’s next!!” Juvia cried happily, bouncing up and down in her seat. Levy handed the gift over with a smile. Lucy carefully tore the wrapping paper away and marveled at what sat before her. Two little button-eye dolls, carefully hand stitched lay in Lucy’s hands. One had spiky pink hair and the other’s soft and blonde.
“… Are these Natsu and me?”
Juvia fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her fingers. “I know they are not really of much use for the baby, but I know you said you liked dolls and the first thing that popped into my head was to make you something, so—”
“You mean you made these?” Lucy questioned, a glimmer of light shining into her eyes.
“Y-Yes… Do you like them?” | 09e93bfa8eaf42e0be9d4ae073cee69c | ['16bb3bf560a847ac98352e8799c68f2b'] | Cana _pthbthb_ ed and shouted to the sky, “I don’t need no goddamn man! I’m just fine with my girls.”
“Aww, Cana, that’s-”
“And definitely booze.”
“Oh, eh.. never mind, then… What about you, Wendy?”
“Romeo-kun asked me,” Wendy said with a smile and a blush. Lucy gasped. The kid is bold! She didn’t think Romeo would ask her right out. “How did it happen?” Cana asked.
Wendy shrugged her shoulders and linked her arms behind her back. “I dunno, we were playing under the big tree in the plaza. When we sat down to take a break, I looked over to see him staring intensely at the ground with his hands balled into fist. And he all of a sudden yelled “WENDY, GO TO THE BALL WITH ME!” so I said yes.”
“Awwwgghh, What a cutie! Romance is so fun!” groaned Cana. “I want one!”
“Didn’t you just get done telling us that you don’t need a boyfriend?”
“What? Is that what you got from what I said?”
Lucy sighed. “Oh boy, Cana.”
The four girls crossed the threshold of the boutique and quickly traversed to the dresses at the end. All of the dresses were simply stunning. There were dresses in every color and every style one could imagine. Even if Magnolia wasn’t the biggest city, it did have some pretty nice stores to shop in.
Wendy quickly picked one, holding it up to her chest and saying, “Look! This one’s green!” It was a cute little dress that ruffled at the end and had an empire waist with a small white bow in the middle. “I’m gonna go try it on!!” she said excitedly, rushing into one of the dressing rooms. Lucy smiled.
“She’s so sweet,” Levy said as she sifted through dresses.
“Isn’t she? I swear, I’m gonna get diabetes from her or something,” Cana said with a laugh.
“Ohh! This one’s nice!” Levy pulled a dark blue and white dress from the rack, holding it up to her chest and fanning out the lower part with her other hand. It was very Levy, it looked like something straight out of one of her favorite fiction novels. As Wendy emerged from the dressing room, Levy happily trotted in to try on the dress.
“What do you think?” Wendy asked Cana and Lucy, twirling around and making the bottom of the dress swirl around her legs. The dress, color and size, fit her perfectly, and it just barely stopped above her knees.
“It’s perfect, Wendy! It’s so cute!” Lucy squealed. “Is that the one you want to get?”
“Yes! I think I’ll find a bracelet to go with it, too!” Wendy smiled and trotted over to the accessories. Her finger came up to tap her chin as she looked for the perfect bracelet to go with her dress. But there were so many that it was hard to choose! Finally, she just asked Lucy to help her pick one that would fit. After that she went to find shoes. She really wanted to look nice for the night.
“Ta-da! How does it look?” Levy burst out of the dressing room sporting the ball gown she wanted to try on. The dress had ruffles that went to about her shins, the white visible from under the layer of blue. “Maybe this’ll get his attention,” Levy murmured under her breath, thinking that the other two girls wouldn’t hear her.
But of course they did.
“Get whose attention?!” Cana exclaimed, her face contorting into a deviously curious expression.
“N-No one’s!” Levy stuttered out, her face beginning to flush.
“Oh, please, Cana, I think we both know exactly who it is,” Lucy snickered, turning to her friend.
“Noo, no you don’t!”
Both girls turned their heads collectively back at Levy and said in unison, “GAJEEL.”
Levy’s face nearly lit on fire as she covered it with her hands. “Noooooo, shut uuuuup!”
“Oh, Levy-chan,” giggled Lucy. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about!”
“Yeah, there’s no reason to hide it from us. **RIGHT. LUCY**?” Cana said as she squeezed Lucy’s arm hard.
“Yeah,” Lucy said, sweating profusely.
“Oh, so you agree?” Cana smiled devilishly. “Then tell us about your mystery man!!”
“Whyyyy?!” Lucy whined. “There isn’t anything to tell!”
“Yes there is!” Levy and Cana cried.
“Ha! Like what?!” Lucy shouldn’t have even asked because Cana and Levy went wild after that.
“What was he like?”
“What’s his favorite color?”
“Was he your first?”
“Have you known him for a long time?”
“Did he ravish you?”
“Is he handsome?”
“What’s his name? THE NAME!” the two finished together. Lucy knew she couldn’t get out of it.
She sighed. “Fine! He’s nice and very funny. His favorite color is red. Y-Yes… he was my first. I suppose now I’ve known him for a long time. No, Cana! Damn!” _Lies_ , Lucy thought to herself on that last one, images of his scratched up back resurfacing in her mind. “Yes, he’s very handsome.”
Cana and Levy looked slightly satisfied. “And?”
Lucy gave a confused look. “And?”
“…”
“…”
“… I’m not telling you his name.”
Cana and Levy threw their hands in the air and groaned.
* * *
The night had finally come, and everyone was making their way to the lit up Fairy Tail guild. From far and wide, their friends from other guilds came pouring into the guild hall. Lucy was busy trying to finish getting ready before Natsu came to pick her up. She had just finishing putting in her earrings when Natsu stepped through her bedroom door wearing a simple suit, a black vest, white shirt underneath, and his scarf sitting above a red tie. She looked over to see him frozen. He was staring at her, his mouth slightly ajar and a blush steadily settling itself upon his cheeks. He swallowed hard, taking one look at her dress. “You… You look b-b-beautiful.” |
d3a00eb9356c402a8fd3ec93a3df0c4f | ['16bb85703ef348e99f59d7c7b3d5685e'] | She, too, acted as though she knew her when she woke up, thanking her sincerely, and also addressing her as Princess Peach. This new blonde quickly sensed something wrong upon seeing the confusion on Peach’s face. After a few more queries that were met with similar confusion, this woman had deduced that Peach had amnesia, and proceeded to introduce herself as Samus Aran, and insisted that they were old friends.
She corroborated what that bean prince had said—that her name was Peach Toadstool, and that she was royalty. Peach had thanked her for trying and had also attempted to let her go free, but Samus had been far more stubborn and far more cognizant of the danger that Galeem posed than the bean prince had; she had insisted on accompanying her, stating that they needed to work together, and that the rest of their friends and allies were, undoubtedly, prisoners of the beast as she had been.
The mention of friends had given Peach hope; she had resigned herself to wandering alone, her heart missing people she couldn’t even remember. Perhaps she could find them—and find herself in the process.
Though she didn’t remember Samus, she quickly grew to trust her, and the two of them proceeded southward, freeing more spirits along the way. They soon found another creature tied up in light bonds: a pink, round fairy that Samus had addressed as Jigglypuff—an appropriate name, Peach had silently thought.
It was during this fight that Peach had heard someone call her name—a man’s voice; it had taken her a moment to realize it, as she still had to remind herself of it. Still, she focused on the fight, watching in her peripheral vision as the man now moved to back her up in the fight; a second person—another blonde--now moved to back up Samus, and another pink, round creature—the same creature she had seen careening through the sky on a star before--also stepped in.
Were these newcomers trustworthy? They didn’t have glowing eyes, but the possibility remained that they could be free, yet serving as the monster’s spies under their own volition…
No, she couldn’t think about that right now; she had to focus on the fight!
She had knocked the controlled Jigglypuff over in the direction of the man who had called her name; he responded with a knockout hit that had succeeded in freeing the poor fairy. Peach watched in satisfaction as Samus, the new blonde, and the other pink creature checked up on her, but she was soon aware of the man’s eyes on her.
She turned to face him, slightly cautious for her own safety. Still, she knew she owed this unknown warrior thanks for his assistance in the last battle; that was basic courtesy expected of a royal, after all…
Her train of thought halted briefly, and a slight twist of her heart made her wonder if he was unknown after all. There was nothing remarkable about the way he looked—indeed, he didn’t seem like a warrior at all—short, stocky, mustachioed… even shorter than she was! He didn’t look like anything special at first glance, and yet…
She hadn’t asked this of anyone before, even those who had addressed her by name, but she now asked the man if, perhaps, he knew her. He didn’t speak—he looked overcome with emotion—but he did nod. Peach stood there for a moment, waiting awkwardly for him to say something.
Behind them, Samus and the other blonde were watching along with the two pink creatures, some amount of hope in their eyes. Clearly, they knew that this man knew her, and were hoping that his presence would jog her memory. She sighed to herself and glanced back at the man, and then her eyes widened.
“Are you alright!? You’re crying…!”
“…Am I…?” the man spoke, at last, absently wiping the tear that had slipped past his eye with his gloved hand.
She gasped now, quietly—that voice… that accent…! It had been the same voice from that single fragment of memory she still had—the voice that had been pleading with her to run. The hand that had been holding hers in that memory… it must have been his!
She suddenly grasped his hand, as though trying to feel if it was the same from the memory. By reflex, he, too, grasped her hand, and she knew, without a doubt, that it was the same.
“I _do_ know you,” she said, softly. “But I can’t remember you. I’m so sorry—I can see that this is hard on you.”
“It’s alright,” he said, putting on a brave face. “I know it’s not your fault; Galeem wiped your memories. But there has to be a way to get them back!”
She nodded, his voice reassuring her in spite of her worries.
“Until then, can you tell me who you are?” she asked. “You fight like a warrior, but you don’t really look like one…” She trailed off, catching herself, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m Mario,” he said. “And… I’ve always considered myself a plumber first.” He managed a wan chuckle.
“He’s being modest,” the new blonde said. “I am Sheik, of Hyrule. And Mario here is from both your kingdom and another land called Brooklyn—and he serves as your kingdom’s Champion.”
Peach looked back at Mario in surprise.
“You are in my service?”
“…I guess,” Mario said, with a shrug. “We’ve never really called it that.”
“I see…” Peach said. She glanced over the horizon, at Galeem. “Mario, it is clear that you are kind and loyal—and have undoubtedly helped me and my kingdom so many times.”
“Anyone here can attest to that,” Samus said, and Sheik, Kirby, and Jigglypuff nodded in agreement.
“That’s more than enough for me,” Peach said, and she glanced back at Mario. “However… Samus told me earlier of the extent of Galeem’s destruction. As I understand it, the people my kingdom were decimated, and I have no subjects left, aside from you.” | 4d2aac56e57e4935894c2f5433f3d743 | ['16bb85703ef348e99f59d7c7b3d5685e'] | Minor Setback
Waking up in pitch darkness was always a bizarre experience—it was deliberately disorienting, something that THRUSH was counting on whenever they did it. Illya grumbled and cursed under his breath as he struggled to his feet—and promptly bumped his head on the low ceiling.
He cursed THRUSH again, and then focused on trying to get his bearings. He could feel air coming from a ventilator; judging from the intensity of the air flow, the vent was a tiny one, so trying to remove the grate and traveling through it was out of the question—not that the old chestnut ever really worked, anyway.
He could also smell mildew and feel damp dirt under his hands. He was in an old cellar—the low ceiling had been put in to disorient anyone behind held down here. Well, that solved one mystery—but it didn’t solve how to get out of here…
Illya’s thoughts trailed off as another smell reached his consciousness—a very familiar scent.
“…Bay rum,” he murmured.
Napoleon was here with him—most likely still unconscious, given by the lack of response to Illya’s mutterings and curses against their captors.
The Russian followed his nose until he found his partner; gently, he clapped him on the side of the face to bring him around.
The sound of Napoleon’s grumbling had never sounded more welcome.
“Urgh… Illya?”
“I am here,” Illya reassured him. He paused as he heard Napoleon scrambled to sit up. “Careful, Napoleon; mind your--”
“Ow!”
“…Head on the low ceiling.” Illya rolled his eyes.
Napoleon growled in frustration as he rubbed his head.
“My patience with THRUSH grows thinner by the day,” he muttered.
“Well, we have been divested of all of our weapons and devices, so if you wish to vent your frustrations upon them, we shall have to be clever with how we go about it.”
“Well, there has to be a door,” Napoleon said. “We didn’t just teleport in here, after all. And sooner or later, they’ll have to send someone to check on us. I say we try to find where the door is, and get ready to waylay whoever they send to check up on us.”
“Fine by me,” Illya agreed.
As far as they were concerned, this was just a setback to their mission—and soon, they would be back on track. |
edc7e479e305494bbf91e5b7f4a20f23 | ['16d322911e2843aaa9af60f12760ff64'] | “Really?” Now it was Keith’s turn to tilt his head at her. She got the sense that he was trying to picture her with long hair and she flushed.
“Yeah, it used to go down to my waist.” Pidge reached up to run her fingers through what remained of her hair. “It got in the way a lot, and _wow_ was it a pain to wash and dry, but... I loved it.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips.
“Do you miss it?”
Pidge looked down and played with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah, sometimes. Cutting it off was hard. Really hard. This is... this is going to sound silly, but it kind of made me feel like a princess, you know? All the princesses in the movies I watched when I was growing up had long, beautiful hair, and I guess I wanted to, too.” _And my dad — he would call me his little princess._ She bit her lip, trying to push the memory away, trying to not think of her dad twirling her around the room singing old Disney songs—
“I don’t think that sounds silly.”
Pidge jumped a little at his words. Keith was staring at her in that intense way of his, like he was looking right through her. She noted that he had put away the luxite blade and had scooted a little closer, only two arms length away now instead of three. He rested a chin on his fist, blowing away a stray strand of hair. “Why don’t you grow out your hair again?”
A smirk formed. “Long hair isn’t the most practical thing when you’re constantly fighting aliens and piloting giant robot lions. Well, I guess there’s Allura, but she’s a literal kickass alien space princess, so she doesn’t count.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s just easier for me to keep it short. And it reminds me of—” Pidge stopped herself in her tracks, feeling the smirk drop. The memory of her dad barreled back, and her brother was there too, now, laughter on the tip of his tongue. She could almost hear it—
Pidge clenched the fabric of her shirt tighter between her fingers. The room felt several degrees colder, and the abrupt change in the atmosphere was almost electric. Even the silence felt charged, coursing through her veins.
“You don’t have to say anything,” came Keith’s voice, cutting through the static. His tone was gentler than she had ever heard before. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Pidge took a deep breath, trying to find her center, trying to slowly release her iron grip on her shirt. “I was just going to say— having short hair. It... it reminds me of Matt.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Keith was listening patiently. He would wait however long it took for her to compose herself, she knew. He would leave and drop the subject entirely if she gave the signal. For some reason, knowing she could stop talking made her not want to. She took another deep breath and hugged her knees before continuing.
“Matt and I are only a few years apart. Back before I grew my hair out, people would mix us up all the time if they didn’t take a close enough look. We’d play pranks on people because of that, sometimes. Could never fool Mom and Dad, though.” Pidge let out a low laugh at the memory, before biting her lip again. “When... when I look in the mirror, it’s almost like I’m seeing him instead. I can imagine it’s him waving to me. And he’s alive and safe and just a foot away. And— it’s nice, you know, for a little moment. I feel closer to him.” Suddenly her voice seemed too loud; It bounced back at her through the quiet of the night and echoed in her ears. Her breathing hitched and she curled her toes. She snuck a glance at Keith and saw him with one hand hanging hesitantly in the air, almost like he wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know how. She couldn’t read his expression very well — frustration, maybe? Sadness? Anger?
Regardless, she took another breath and straightened her back. “Anyway,” she said hastily, clearing her throat and eager to change the subject. The quiet was suffocating now. Her words hung heavy in the air, suspended and trapped. She couldn't bear the silence, even for a few moments, had to break it, had to keep it from pushing down on her. “I was serious earlier. About tying up your hair or braiding it.” Keith didn’t respond, so she rambled on. “It gets it out of the way, and braiding it is actually really fun. I used to braid my own hair all the time. My hair is too short now to do anything fancy with it, but yours is a decent length.”
There were several more beats of silence, save the Castle’s ever-present humming, and Pidge began to fidget again. Goosebumps were creeping up her skin. And then, so quietly she almost missed it: “Do you want to braid my hair?”
“What?” Pidge mentally slapped herself when she saw Keith flinch. She hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous.
“Never mind,” Keith said, already turning his head away to hide the rising blush. His whole body tensed and he looked ready to get up and leave at any moment. “Sorry. You were just talking about how much you used to like braiding hair, so I thought— never mind. Sorry.”
She knew he was just trying to help, that this was his way of saying _it’s okay, Pidge, we’ll find your family_ , and the thought brought a whisper of a smile to her face. She shifted a little closer to him. “That actually sounds really nice,” she said softly. “Could I?” | ff4c079d29964118b6bf9eb0409f5c5f | ['16d322911e2843aaa9af60f12760ff64'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! This fic was inspired by this post by tender-eros on tumblr:
> https://tender-eros.tumblr.com/post/158467090084/i-remember-reading-smth-about-a-girl-mistaking-a
>
> This is my first fic on ao3 -- hope you all enjoy!
“ _No_ , Shiro!”
“But, Allura—”
“I said no!”
Allura put her hands on her hips — the very image of poise — as she stared daggers at Shiro, daring the man to argue. She was the only thing standing between Shiro and the door to the building where they worked, but the heiress of the Altean family would sooner renounce her bloodline than let him get past.
“I told you we don’t need you today! You’ve been overworking yourself way too hard, and you need to _rest!_ ”
“I’m fine, Allura, I swear—” Shiro protested, just as he felt a yawn building in his throat. He tried his best to stifle it, but when he saw the upturned corner of Allura’s mouth, he knew he had already lost.
“As your temporary boss while my father is away, Shiro, I am ordering you to take a day off,” Allura said, lifting her chin and giving her best impression of authority. Shiro knew she was being serious, but he couldn’t help but think it was pretty funny considering they were the same age, both barely out of college. Allura evidently thought it was amusing as well, as her demeanor softened. She chuckled and shook her head. “Besides, Shiro, what use to me are you as an employee if you’re falling asleep on the job?”
Now it was Shiro’s turn to laugh, putting his hands up in surrender. “So that’s your real reason you want me to rest, huh? And here I thought you actually cared about my well-being.”
Shiro stepped back just in time to avoid Allura’s swat, still laughing. The heiress settled for sticking out her tongue at him instead, before shooing him away with her hand. “Alright, Shiro, time for you to leave. I don’t want to see you again today!”
“Okay, okay, you win!” Shiro raised his prosthetic arm in a mock salute. He gave Allura one last smile before turning on his heel and walking off.
Shiro was tired, but not tired enough to go back home and nap. He had never been a huge fan of naps anyway — they disoriented him and made him feel like he’d wasted too much time. He ended up taking a stroll through the park, breathing in the scent of grass and enjoying the slight chill of the autumn air. When his stomach reminded Shiro of its existence, he headed to the local mall’s food court and downed a healthy helping of pasta from Voltron Café.
Wandering through the mall, Shiro hummed quietly, the tune to an old song half forgotten. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself; what do people usually do with days off, anyway?
He found himself in a clothing store, idly browsing through the selection. The shop was almost empty; most people were probably at work, Shiro reasoned with a slight yawn. He continued absently looking around the store, when something bright red caught his attention.
It was a motorcycle jacket — white and yellow accentuated the red, but it was the popped collar that completed the look. It seemed to be made of leather, he thought, as he got closer to the mannequin sporting it. It was quite the bold statement; Shiro didn’t think he would ever be able to pull that off, but the mannequin did pretty well, he supposed. Props to the store owner.
And was that... a mullet? The mannequin had a mullet? Shiro chuckled quietly to himself, tilting his head to the side. People were really into putting together eye-catching mannequins these days. He had to give credit to whoever made the wig, though. Each strand looked so carefully layered and realistic, and so, _so_ silky. Upon reaching the mannequin, Shiro absentmindedly stretched out a hand, gently brushing his fingers against the mannequin’s hair.
Maybe if Shiro wasn’t so tired, he would have remembered that this particular store didn’t really _have_ any mannequins, or he might have noticed that the mannequin seemed to be _breathing_. But as it was, Shiro only had time to register the softness of the hair (just as silky as he had imagined it to be) and the warmth of the neck (wait, warmth?) before he felt something kick his feet out from under him and he thudded unceremoniously to the floor (ouch).
Shiro blinked. The mannequin — no, _person_ — was almost sitting on top of him, knees on either side, pinning him to the floor. Violet eyes met Shiro’s dark grey ones, demanding an explanation. Some faraway part of Shiro’s brain is thinking that if it wasn’t for the sudden adrenaline rush, he could probably get lost in those eyes. He can feel heat starting to creep up to his face; he opens his mouth, mind racing for an apology — _wait how do I even explain this oh my god this guy is gonna kill me this is how I die_ — but all he manages to choke out is:
“You’re... you’re not a mannequin.”
Confusion washes over the other man’s face, and then — in a moment that Shiro will fondly look back on in years to come — the corners of the man’s mouth quirk slightly upwards. Suddenly, the man is laughing, practically _giggling_ , a sound so pure and _right_ that Shiro can’t help but laugh too. The man gets up and Shiro feels the weight on his body lessen and he thinks he’s probably pleased about that. The man is still laughing loudly, and brings up one gloved hand to wipe at the tears forming in his eyes. He holds out his other hand to Shiro, grasp wiry but strong, and helps the fallen man up from the floor. |
c4257fb0ca4e40328cf6527a625f650a | ['16d752d27a8741b383935ae8603af68f'] | Captain Phasma and General Laynd are awaiting them when they reach the lobby, and both are immediately on either side of Kylo Ren. He can smell them forcing their scents outwards. The three of them together should be enough to ward any strangers away. Hopefully.
"Where is the shuttle?" Ren asks.
"In the loading dock, sir." Phasma responds.
Ren grunts and hurries forward. The quicker they get there the better.
Save a few sideways glances and full-on stares, they are safe. They make it to the shuttle without any trouble, and Ren is hit with a wave of gratitude.
Gratitude? How strange. Ren shakes off the feeling as he sits with Hux still on his lap.
The crew around them stare, unsure if they should assist the Omega or allow Kylo to do as he wishes. They go with the latter, too afraid of what would come if they went between the two. It does not take a genius to know what sprouted between the Alpha and the Omega.
Ren warily glances down at Hux. With all these conflicting scents that aren't his Alpha, he can only hope that Hux will be fine and bare with it.
Ren knows his mate, and his mate is strong.
6. Chapter 6
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> You might be wondering why I've updated so soon?? Read the end notes
General Hux feels disgusting. Awful, beastly, foul, gross, _hideous_ , all of those synonyms. When he wakes, he is in his own firm bed on the Finalizer. His last coherent memory was of himself on the back streets of the space docking station. But, after that... Nothing. But he knows what happens. He feels sick, his head is throbbing and his ass and dick are painfully sore, yet he is full of a pleasant fulfillment and happiness.
He rubs the back of his neck, fingers tracing over his marked scent gland.
His happiness is replaced by crippling anger.
He pulls himself out of his bed and stumbles to the ground. His legs are weak. Nonetheless, he pushes himself upwards and changes into his own, normal clothes. He trudges out into the hall, and for a moment he is at a loss. Not for long, and he continues his journey.
_Where the fuck are you, Kylo Ren?_
He doesn't know where he is going, yet somehow he just _knows_.
That's what it's like to have a fucking mate.
He somehow ends up in one of the main control rooms of the ship. Kylo Ren is standing in the middle, being his typical brooding self and terrifying the crew. He's back in his black robes and black helmet.
"Kylo Ren!" Hux seethes loudly. The knight turns as Hux walks up to him.
Hux doesn't know what Kylo was expecting, but seeing as to how Ren is force-sensitive Hux believes he knew what was going to happen.
Hux punches Kylo in the gut and is satisfied when he hears a small intake of breath under the mask. He would've preferred to clock him in the face, but that helmet was preventing it. Other than that, he doesn't flinch. That pisses Hux off, so he punches him again.
"Kylo Ren, you undignified asshole!" He doesn't care if he is disturbing the crew around them. He doesn't notice them- all he is focused on is Kylo.
Kylo still doesn't respond, so Hux punches him again. And again. And again. "How could you do that to me? You knew I couldn't... Fuck you, Kylo Ren, fuck you!"
He aims another fist, but Kylo catches it. Hux knows, in his mind, that Kylo could've stopped Hux whenever he wanted to.
"General Hux, I would suggest you to stop distressing like this." He lowers his monotonous voice. "Everyone can smell it on you, that you've been recently mated. You're making everyone nervous, a newly bred Omega like you giving off all these upsetting pheromones."
Hux was shaking. Yes, of course they could smell him. He reeked of Kylo, and Kylo reeked of him. They were mates now and everyone knew it. Plus that satisfied post-mating stench is wafting off of Hux in waves. But now, he was pissed. He feels like crying- why does he feel like crying? He's still shaking.
He balls his hands into fists at his sides and speaks calmly. "How long have I been... Out for?"
"You were in heat on the station for two days and you have been resting for two more days. Four days in total."
"I can do math, Ren." Hux snaps and turns from the room. He needs to work, so he'll go to his office. His private, quiet office.
Once the door slides open, Hux feels as if he's been met with a breath of fresh air. It feels like home to him, his office. It's comfortable. But even as he sits at his chair and pulls out his datapad he feels a lingering sense of being uncomfortable.
He can only enter a few things into his datapad before tears spring to his eyes. He sucks his quivering bottom lip between his teeth and holds it there firmly, narrowing his eyes until they get blurry. Everything feels wrong.
Hux finally gives up and places his datapad to the side. He folds his arms upon the desk and places his head in the space between them.
He isn't crying. He isn't crying.
The door to his office opens, but Hux only stills. The only sound in the room is the hissing of the door sliding shut once more, and then footsteps.
Ren collects Hux into his arms and sits himself on the chair, still holding fast to the general.
Hux shakes for a minute until a choked sob passes his swollen lip. Kylo doesn't speak, he only holds Hux with strong arms that gently stroke the back of Hux's head and down his spine.
He shivers, and Kylo soothes him, releasing a calming scent produced only for his Omega. | deed0580c5b94ee5a24aa4bd7bed3445 | ['16d752d27a8741b383935ae8603af68f'] | Sonic tops the shit out of Genos
**Author's Note:**
> There's not enough top Sonic in this fandom
> honestly I didn't have a good reason for them to fuck so they just fucked
> Follow me on tumblr @ genosisabottom
Sonic is balls-deep inside of a squirming, moaning, blond cyborg. They are in the caped baldy's house, but the hero is absent. Sonic is solely focused on the young man underneath him. What a strange sight he is, indeed. That typically stern face is twisted into something so erotic, face tinged with pink and sweat, mouth open, eyes rolled back. Sonic wouldn't have believed Genos has a cock, or an asshole, but he has both. He also thought the only skin he had was the skin on his face, but his entire torso is made from that artificial skin. His leaking member and twitching hole are strangely realistic. Maybe the weird scientist that made him intended him to be some weird sex bot at first, but whatever. Genos looks hot as fuck right now and he feels incredible as Sonic joyfully fucks into him.
"S-Sonic, go slower!" Genos gasps softly, tears spilling from his eyes and begging the dark haired villain above him. Oh, what a perfect view it is for Sonic to have the S class hero sobbing and begging beneath him.
Sonic stops, leans over Genos so their faces nearly touch. He can clearly see Genos' soft lips, where the boy has been biting them swollen. He hums, "Slow isn't in my vocabulary, babe," and continues his impressive speed. Being the fastest man alive can be very useful.
Genos wails wonderfully and throws his head back. With his bared neck to Sonic, how could the ninja deny? He sinks his teeth into the proposed flesh, suckling and biting till he is satisfied that he left a mark. Genos trembles, shakes all the way up to his legs on Sonic's shoulders, his toes near Sonic's head.
Luckily, with Genos being a cyborg, he can be bent to Sonic's will, and there is no restraint as Sonic pushes forward even further. He splays his hands out on either side of Genos' head, successfully boxing him in.
"Look at me." Sonic grunts. He waits as Genos slowly brings his head downwards, his nearly crossed eyes having a difficult time focusing on Sonic. But he does. He stares at the ninja, his beautiful eyes lidded, his parted mouth breathing sounds of his arousal.
Sonic pushes forward and attaches their lips, his tongue slipping inside to caress Genos' own soft appendage. Genos trembles as he reaches his orgasm, cries pitifully into Sonic's mouth as he reaches the point of his pleasure. Genos shakes and spasms, clinging onto the ninja as he rides through his orgasm.
With the cyborg impossibly limp after his explosive orgasm, Sonic is able to finish inside of Genos' lovely asshole after a few more languid thrusts.
Sonic honestly expected Genos to throw him out post-orgasm, but the cyborg simply allows for Sonic to plop down beside him, cradle him against his bare chest, and to cool off.
.
Sonic had wanted to fight Saitama, that's all. He was all over the news; monster easily defeated by the strange caped baldy yet again, so Sonic had to rush over as soon as possible. But, it had seemed he was beaten.
The apartment was empty when he entered it. Usually one would expect the thrum of the television mid-afternoon like this, the pattering of a shower, even the god damn lights should be on! But it was dark, and quiet, and laying in the middle of that silenced apartment was none other than the demon cyborg.
Any other day, any other person, Sonic wouldn't hesitate to launch an attack. He's scum, but it's what you have to do to survive. But something about Genos seemed different. He was succulent, laying on his side on the futon, his metallic legs folded over one another, his arms raised above his head. Sonic didn't expect Genos to own such short shorts, such loose tees. The shorts hitched up, revealing the expanse of skin that began mid-thigh, showing off the delectable curve of Genos' rump. His short had risen, allowing for Sonic to see the smooth skin that stretched across Genos' abdomen. Genos seemed to be surprisingly soft. The cyborgs lips parted slightly.
By the time Sonic noticed he was staring, Genos noticed his presence.
He leapt up, going to immediately attack the intruder. Yet, he was too slow. In less than an instant, Sonic had him pinned to the ground, forcefully pinning his arms above his head. Genos' shirt had cocked up, and had rested at his chin. His nipples looked very inviting, plump and pink and perky.
Genos could've easily kicked Sonic off. Yet, he merely stared with widened eyes.
Sonic further pressed his clothed erection against Genos.
Ah, yes, they are going to do it.
Maybe it was a heat of the moment thing, maybe Genos was still fighting off sleep and thought Sonic was someone else and when he realized who it was he was too damn horny to stop.
Whatever the situation has escalated from, Sonic is very confused as to why he is still laying with the sleeping Genos tucked securely under his arm.
**Author's Note:**
> thanks weeaboo-commander for this |
2caf05fe046d4fd688f3a9e6efe44867 | ['16eb994a57614e59afb32fd0e5e3be51'] |
1. Chapter 1
“Best not mess with the McDucks.” That was a saying around Scotland for years. Even after the Clan fell into the gutter the saying persisted. “Best not mess with the McDucks!” Would laugh the young and foolish, before they would return with wide eyes and horrified whispers. “Best not mess with the McDucks.” That phrase followed Scrooge throughout his youth, strengthening him. “Best not mess with the McDucks!” Yelled Hortense after a less then pleasant individual attempted to waylay her, the duck fled her presence as quickly as he could. “Best not mess with the McDucks.” Matilda giggle as she snuggled her chosen husband, Ludwig Von Drake. Scrooge was less then impressed, the Von Drake Clan wasn’t even trying. When the four left for America, all of Scotland breathed a sigh of relief. Now it was the New World’s turn to learn the harsh lesson, “Best not mess with the McDucks.”
Matilda and Ludwig split from Scrooge and Hortense not long after landing. Ludwig wished to pursue the art of Science and Scrooge desired to build a fortune. They left each other on friendly terms, with Ludwig winked at Scrooge. “Show these upstarts why Scotland says, Best not mess with the McDucks.”
When Hortense introduced Scrooge to Quackmore Duck, Scrooge quietly pulled her aside, “Best not mess with the McDucks.” He whispered to her, reminding her of what would happen to him one day. She threw his words back at him with a hiss and left. The next he, Matilda, and Ludwig hear of her is when the invitations show up in the mail to her and Quackmore’s wedding. Matilda tried to warn her sister one last time, “Best not mess with the McDucks, Hortense!” She was brushed off and Hortense McDuck became Hortense Duck. The three vowed to be there for their foolish family when the inevitable happened to Quackmore.
A small ray of hope for the youngest shown when her twin ducklings hatched. Maybe they would have more McDuck then Duck in them? However, Hortense declared that the ducklings were Ducks through and through. They had argued, and the car crash afterwards would haunt the surviving three forever. “Best Not Mess With The McDucks.” etched forever on the shared gravestone of Hortense and her husband. The ducklings, Della and Donald, stayed with Grandma Duck for the first years of their lives. Then circumstances forced Scrooge to take them in. He found out that Della was very much a McDuck, and that warmed his heart. Donald on the other hand, was just like his father, and so Scrooge pushed him away, so when it happened it wouldn’t hurt. “Best not mess with the McDucks.” Scrooge told Della as she admired herself in the lake water. Ludwig threw himself in to a scientific solution to Donald’s problem, Scrooge a magical. Both him and Della would push Donald into anything situation they could in hopes that something would save Donald from the inevitable. It wasn’t enough, it never was.
When Della vanished Scrooge couldn’t help it. He pushed then away. Huey, Dewey, and Louie shown no sigh of being McDucks. His heart couldn’t take it. Because of the single thing he knew to be true. “Best not mess with the McDucks.” because anything else would hurt too much.
It was a nightmare. Glomgold had pulled out all stops to kill Scrooge this time. Gladstone had already revealed his true form, the Luck Dragon defending the triplets and Webby, all four in their Dragon forms, squeaking in fear. Ludwig and Matilda lunged to join Gladstone in his defense of the little dragons. Ludwig’s smaller, less powerful form dropped back behind the more dangerous one of Matilda’s dragon form. Scrooge dropped into a crouch, shifting into his dragon form. “Donald! Stay back lad! We’ll handle this!” Glomgold laughed at Scrooge. “Ha! Ye think that ye can protect the weakest of yer family, Scrooge!? I hired the best hunters out there to bring down ye family!” Scrooge snarled, he felt his near lava like breath build, when Donald step in front of hjs family. “Leave them alone Glomgold. Or else.” “Or else what? Ye are a weak defenseless ingrate!” Donald smirked and jumped forward into a graceful swandive, dark blue and white paws hit the ground, blue and white scales gleamed with faint bio luminescence. Scrooge felt his mind screech to a stop. The Sea Dragon, rarest and most powerful of the dragons, stalked forward, Donald summoning a storm in his anger. “What do you know about Sea Dragons Glomgold? Did you know we are the Harbingers of ill fortune to our enemies? And Glomgold, you foolish idiot, guess who you are to me.” Donald leaned down to hiss the last words in Glomgold’s face. Donald charged his own breath, the lightening building and bouncing off his teeth. “Run Glomgold. RUN! And never touch my family again.” Scrooge almost cried. Hortense’s son would live. He wouldn’t live a devastatingly short life span of a mortal duck. He had wasted thirty-five years trying to not get attached to the child of Hortense that he had believed for so long would die at the young age of 100. Maybe, with hard work, just maybe he could make it up to his nephew one day. But watching Glomgold run screaming from the ill luck harbinger, his nephew, the Sea Dragon, Scrooge smirked. Best not mess with the McDucks indeed!
2. A Duck Can Never Get Angry
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Donald's side of things. | 43e31f6e6db746299af318f003e5bd57 | ['16eb994a57614e59afb32fd0e5e3be51'] |
Inglorious Ink
Hello old friend,
It seems like a lifetime since we used to work on cartoons together. If you have some time swing by the old studio. I’ve got something to show you.
Your old pal, Joey Drew.
Donald Duck crumpled the letter up and dropped it to the ground outside the abandoned studio. Joey had been a friend only in the most basic sense of the word. He had stolen Donald's characters and claimed them as his own, eventually firing Donald after he had found out Donald had signed up for the Navy during the war. In fact…. why was he even here!? It was strange, he barely remembered receiving the letter and driving here. But, seeing that he was here, he might as well go in.
“Alright, Joey, I'm here. Let's see if I find what you wanted me to see.”
Not even half an hour later Donald raced through the halls, out running the rising ink and the mockery of his character, Bendy.
“WHY AM I ALWAYS FRIENDS WITH DUCKING PSYCHOS!?!”
Donald screamed as he reached the door, he was getting out of here and going straight back to Joey so he could break the dog's muzzle. Then he was going back to the mansion and he was going to give his kids a hug. His thoughts dropped out of his head as the floor beneath him broke. He couldn't even scream as he plummeted several stories into an inky pool below.
“The Creator is here. We must keep him from the Liar. From the Lost that believed the Liar. He will need a companion. Yes, that one will do. I am sorry. I must withdraw my protection from him so he can be taken to The Creator. I am sorry little one. So, so very sorry. But this is necessary…..”
Donald wiped ink from his blue eyes as he stalked down the stairwell towards the Music Department.
“If this keeps up I am going to be stained black permanently!”
Donald spotted another record and hit play. Sammy again, but this time the cat sounded much saner and more normal then the first recording.
“A pump switch in your office, Sammy? Wish I could have been here to see the fit you threw about that.”
Donald turned around and promptly rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn he had just seen an ink puddle move… aaaaand something just erupted out of the ink. Donald jumped back with a scream and swung the axe he had found earlier at it. Ink splattered across the floor, hitting the forms of more ink like beings that had emerged from the ink puddles. They had lunged at him, flailing their arms, trying to strike him. The axe came up and down in an exhausting rhythm. But finally the onslaught was over.
“Joey?”
Donald asked the absent dog.
“What the DUCK did you do!?”
Never mind. He had to get out of here. He trudged down the hallway and gave a glare to the deep puddle of ink in front of the door.
“So any other inky monsters wanna jump out and try to kill me? No takers? Fine by me. Oh. Another recording.”
He pushed the button and listened to Wally ramble on about how he lost his keys again. Donald sighed..Why does Wally have to lose his keys all the time? Better start look for them.
“Was everyone always this crazy and I missed it or is a new thing brought on by Joey?”
Donald wondered as he listened to Norman Polk's recording, apparently Sammy was being really weird. Stopping band sessions in mid recording and throwing everyone out. That was not the Sammy Lawrence he remembered. But either way, there were Wally's keys in the basket. He reached in a grabbed them up. Time to get into Sammy's office.
He only could open the janitorial closet. Of course. How dare this be easy, and another recording from Sammy. This one babbled about music and sanctuaries.
“I thought your favorite song was “HellFire” Sammy….”
Donald murmured, maybe the babble about instruments had something to do with Sammy tossing the band out?
Twenty FREAKING TIMES! That's how long it took Donald to get the freaking Sanctuary open! Eventually Donald stopped running down the stairs and just vaulted over the edge of the booth. It was nothing to him. He had fallen farther as Paperinik. That time he beat the clock and got the Sanctuary open. He ignored the scribblings on the wall just like he had all the others and turned the valve. The Bendy cut out surprised him as he walked back towards the entrance, and the Ink Monsters were back. Donald hacked his way through with a temper. Why do they have to attack him!? But the entrance to Sammy's office was still not clear. So what did that valve drain!?
The infirmary. Yay. Who designed this place!? Donald felt as if he was in a video game with the amount of running around he was doing just to drain a simple stairwell out. Stalking up to the pipe, he glared at it. The valve was gone. OF COURSE the valve was gone! Why would the valve be there!? He triggered another door and followed the path down to the sewers.
“I think this is the only time I’m hoping what I am wading through is ink.”
The duck muttered to himself as he sloshed through the dark liquid. A flash of light caught his eye.
“Did that ink monster have my valve?”
Donald picked up the valve from the remains of the ink monster he had just crushed with a box. A twinge of regret flowed through Donald. This ink monster hadn't tried to attack him. He intoned what felt like to him an inadequate apology.
“Sorry. I need to get back to my kids. Nice hat though.” |
1d4fa11296e0466ca90f871e8717e87c | ['16f809e3af844f7585b60265b7097827'] |
1. Chapter 1
Dan Howell’s alarm rang, eardrum-burstingly loud. He groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. He had been torn away from a particularly cosy dream; full of sunlight and the comforting sight of a particular pair of blue eyes. He dragged himself out of bed and checked his phone. He would have to get ready in the next 10 minutes, or else he would be late for work. He looked at his bed and bit his lip. A lazy pajama day had never seemed more tempting.
He could ring in sick, but the partner had warned him that he had exceeded the amount of ‘mental health days’ they could give him at the law firm without cutting his pay. With unpaid bills piling up on the kitchen counter, that was something he literally could not afford. And so he liberally coated his hair in dry shampoo, ran his GHD over the curls that had appeared overnight, wriggled into a suit and dashed out to catch the Tube. Before leaving, he placed his hand on his dream journal, then drew it away. No. Too dangerous.
On the Tube, he tried to make himself as small as possible and let his mind drift away. That adorable laugh, that smile…he closed his eyes and imagined what that pale skin would feel like against his own. The lady beside him coughed. Dan hurriedly crossed his legs, his face going tomato-coloured. He hurried out of the Tube a stop early, hoping he would never see her again as long as he lived.
Dan had become a little, shall we say, obsessed with a particular BBC weatherman. Watching Phil Lester on the 10 o’clock news had become Dan’s favourite part of the day. He was just so adorable- so enthusiastic about his job, always making horrendous puns (what are meteorologists afraid of? The atmos-fear!) and that laugh- oh god.
In another world, this would be perfectly fine. Being bisexual was not a big deal anymore. Having a crush on a minor celebrity was perfectly normal, and he wasn’t the only person in the Phil Lester fandom. He hadn’t been voted Buzzfeed’s ‘Cutest Weatherman’ of the year for nothing. However, Phil was one of Dan’s clients.
Phil had just wandered into the building one day with an overly extortionate parking ticket, asking for help. It wasn’t too difficult a case, so the partner gave it to Dan. It hadn’t been much; a consultation, a few emails back and forth, a morning in the district court; but it had been enough for Dan to fall head over heels in like with the other man.
Several months later, Dan was still kicking himself for not asking Phil out for coffee, getting his number, even saying ‘hey, you’re a weatherman, right? I’ve seen you on telly and you do a great job!’ Something. ANYTHING. He had opened up a draft email to him several times and typing a message again and again before deleting it and putting his head in his hands.
When Dan reached his desk, before doing anything productive, he opened an incognito browser on his computer and pulled up Phil’s twitter. He liked to leave it open in the background during his work day. That little ‘ping’ would cut through all the horrendous client emails and filing and quadruple-expresso brain haze and make him smile. Phil’s tweets were a joy; cute selfies in the BBC studio, weather updates complete with puns and gaming references and, of course, pictures of kittens. Even the thought of Phil smiling as he tapped out a tweet made Dan feel warm and happy.
He looked at Phil’s account and his stomach fell into his shoes. There was a picture of Phil in hospital, with a cast on all the way up to his thigh. The caption read; ‘Leg will be out of action for 8-10 weeks! So angry (lion emoji) Hopefully will get everything sorted with my lawyer tomorrow!’
Dan blinked, unable to comprehend what he had just read. He scrolled down a few more hospital selfies until he reached a two tweets; ‘Thank sweet bunny rabbits for the invention of morphine’ and ‘Just been in a hit-and-run! Hurts so bad…but I have the plate no.-I am onto you (eyes emoji)’ They were all timestamped as yesterday afternoon.
Dan scrolled down until he reached tweets he had already read, then clicked the little ‘x’ and closed twitter. His hands were shaking as he opened his email. Surely Phil would get a different lawyer for this, a proper BBC damages lawyer-
From: phillester@bbcweather.com
To: dan.howell@goodson.uk
CC: I need you, Danny boy!
From the first time they had met, Phil had insisted on calling Dan by his first name. 'I don't like calling people things like "Mr. Howell",' he had said. 'It makes you sound like my maths teacher or something.'
The lift pinged open, and a familiar laugh burst into the office. Dan jerked his head up and stared open-mouthed as Phil Lester, hobbled out on crutches onto the grey office carpet. Cat, one of Dan’s co-workers, followed him out. Phil was wearing a red plaid shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, one leg cut at the thigh to acommodate his 3/4 leg cast. Cat pointed to where Dan was sitting and Phil’s eyes roamed over the cubicles, then met his, and he smiled. Dan waved back, stunned.
He felt nervous anxiety creeping up on him, threatening to choke him. He was bad enough just sitting at his desk on a regular day, hating everything. But an unexpected meeting with the man he had been obsessing over for months? He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out. Just like the therapist (in the last of the two sessions he could afford) had told him to.
He stood up from his desk, and held out his hand. Phil looked at it with a bemused smile. | 59edbf7a70e84fce8be42829a897d2be | ['16f809e3af844f7585b60265b7097827'] | Phil just sighed and sat down on the other side of the bed, facing away from Dan, then put his head in his hands. He laughed softly.
‘I can’t sleep, either.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Dan said, as he was lying on the floor struggling into the pair of skinny jeans he had worn the other day. ‘Why not?’
‘Everything, Dan…just everything.’ There was a broken, defeated undertone to Phil’s voice that made Dan’s heart hurt a little.
Dan stood up and went to Phil, putting a hand on his shoulder. He then sat down on the bed beside him, wincing as it creaked under his weight. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he said.
Phil let out a sigh. ‘I’d talk about it, but I don’t really know where to start.’
‘That’s okay. Start in the middle, or the end, or the beginning. Wherever you want. I’ll catch on.’ Dan said. In the few seconds of silence that followed, he nearly turned away from Phil and punched himself in the face. Why was he so bloody _cheesy_?
‘Uh- alright then…’ Phil said, moving on quickly from Dan’s last statement. Phil was silent for a few moments, looking away from him and thinking. Dan felt a strange kind of excitement – was Phil about to open up to him? About a certain divorce, perhaps?
‘Mmm..’ Phil said. ‘I guess...I think I remember Chris Kendall. The more I go over it in my brain, the more I remember, and the more I kick myself for not remembering.’
‘Yeah?’ Dan caught himself, the disappointment in his voice more than evident. He coughed. ‘Uh-huh? Where do you remember him from?’ It looked like Dan was not going to get any dishing on the divorce story tonight.
‘Do you know what YouTube is?’
‘Umm...yeah,’ Dan replied. ‘I-er I think I might’ve heard of it. It’s a place for-eh internet videos, right?’
‘Right. Before I started working for- uh, I mean, during my uni days- I had a Youtube channel, where I would talk to the camera about my life and stuff. Like, just stupid things. But I had a good few fans. I was even thinking of doing a video production masters instead of a one in meteorology.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Yeah. And this one guy, Chris, was a really big fan of mine. He had a channel as well, a smaller one. He tweeted at me once to thank me for what I was doing, telling me I had inspired him to set up his own channel. And I retweeted it, and thanked him for saying that, and checked out his channel, and followed him back.’
Phil was staring out away from Dan at the opposite wall. Dan looked down at the way Phil was clutching the sides of the bed, all the tension he seemed to be holding in himself. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch him. But if he did, he might disturb him, break the moment, weird him out, and he would stop talking. Dan threaded his own fingers together in his lap and moved over in his seat a bit, away from Phil.
‘We started chatting, I think we skyped a few times? I seem to remember that he was planning to come on a trip to Lancashire when I was home for the summer so we could do a collab? But I don’t know, the more I talked to him he just seemed a bit, well, odd? A little obsessive maybe? I was always kind of worried when I was talking to him, like watching the way I was speaking, careful that I wasn’t going to set him off. He liked to rant, go off on these really long angry tangents about things where I would have to sit and listen. So, after a few weeks I sent him an email telling him that I didn’t think that it was going to work. And he got _really_ angry.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Like, _really_ angry. He replied to me with this really mean email, some of it was quite personal and hurtful, I was a bit upset about it for a while...and then afterwards there were some nasty @ messages on twitter...In the end I blocked and reported him. I think he might have made some sort of video response to me, like, slagging me? But I had blocked him, and I didn’t want to have anything else to do with him, so, I just rubbed him out of my life, tried to forget about him.’
‘But he didn’t forget about you.’
‘You can say that again.’
Another long silence. Dan waited for Phil to pick up the thread of the conversation from where he had left it hanging. He was bursting with questions that he was too scared to voice.
‘And after that, I-‘ then Phil stopped himself. ‘Well, you don’t want to hear my life story,’ he laughed.
‘No, I’d love to, I mean, we have loads of time- talk about whatever you want.’
‘Thanks, Dan.’ Phil said, turning to him, his eyes shining a little. ‘That means a lot, but I think that’ll do for tonight. Thanks for listening to though.’
‘Any time.’ Dan said, smiling weakly. ‘That’s what-er friends are for, right?’
Phil smiled weakly. ‘Right.’ He turned away and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. He sighed deeply. ‘Y’know, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.’
‘Yeah, me neither.’
‘Do you want to go into the lounge and watch something? Or play X-Box or something like that?’
‘That sounds great, Phil.’
Phil stood up and walked out ahead of him into the lounge. ‘I also have Netflix if you’re interested. And loads of box sets. Do you know any Japanese cartoons? I know it’s a bit weird, but I’m really into them.’
‘Animé? I loove animé!’ |
1cc3532af53542a3b32f9d868a62ac5c | ['170538d95ca8494ca0065f2813d41f74'] | Dear gods, he wished he wasn't misreading the signals. Clearly, Will was showing interest. Now that Nico had time to think about it, Will had been trying to cross his boundaries since...since their confrontation with Octavian. That episode hadn't gone so well. Nico didn't feel that bad about Octavian's incendiary demise. It had to happen. The same with Bryce Lawrence's death. The world was better off without their genocidal schemes. He did feel uneasy about how he sent off Lawrence though. No demigod should have that kind of power at his disposal. Even if it were his. He lost control and he unleashed an unholy curse that obliterated a sentient being. He was somewhat glad that it took a lot from him; It wasn't something to be done with a snap of his fingers. Maybe what bothered him more is the fact that he felt an unwavering sense of certainty that some people, however young they were, had to go. No remorse, no what-ifs, no-let's-talk-and-get-this-crazy-idea-out-of-your-head coffee break, just go ahead and die, lunatic. It was the kind of cold-hearted thing he thought the other kids at camp would judge him by.
Oh, look, the son of Hades doesn't even flinch when he brings death upon another human being.
The opera was over. He wished he could leave the infirmary to stretch his legs. He could ask Will. He shut down the laptop but the other boy didn't budge. His side was still pressed up against Nico's.
"Will, I'd like to walk and get some fresh air."
"Your doctor says your three days are not over yet."
Nico scowled at him. "Just a couple of minutes. I can't even believe I'm asking permission and negotiating. You can even watch me from this window." Nico gestured towards his window.
"I think I can do better than that. I can walk with you. That way, if you feel weak, I can carry you back."
"I'm heavier than I look, Solace."
Will had a thoughtful look on his face and all of a sudden, he grabbed the tricep of Nico's uninjured arm. "Hm, you might be right. Someone's been working out."
Nico snatched his arm back and Will laughed.
"There are too many creatures in this world for my liking," Nico muttered sullenly.
\---
NICO
The walk became longer than Nico expected. He thought Will would insist on going back after a few minutes but they got to talking and their feet naturally took them to the lake. Nico was feeling better after two and a half days of rest, medicine and good nutrition. He still wasn't feeling his best. He had guessed that his body would never be able to recover from Tartarus and the strain of shadow traveling with the Athena Parthenos but now, for the first time in years, his outlook seemed positive. His friends and father wanted him to be happy. All the things he suffered...they had to have a reason and that reason was not so Nico would be unhappy for the rest of his life. He should be on the upside of the wheel of life this time. He would try. He would try for himself. Gods knew he deserved it.
The sun would set soon. They could see some naiads playing from afar, the water they splashed around got hit by the sun's rays and sparkled.
"What made you decide to stay, Nico?" Will was looking at him intently.
"I don't know. Maybe I got tired of quests. When I told Octavian that I wanted to be in neither camp, I wasn't expecting to live through the whole ordeal. When I had the chance to think about it, the choice was really between my friends and sister OR my room at my father's Palace with the screams of the dead serving as white noise."
Will chuckled at that. "Yeah, that couldn't have been a very hard choice."
Nico shook his head.
"But what made you pick Camp Half-Blood over Camp Jupiter though?"
"Hm, I could've picked Camp Jupiter but their regimented training put me off. The Romans are stuffy. Guess, I'll visit Hazel when I'm stronger."
"Well, I'm glad you stayed." Will didn't look him in the eye. Nico swore there was a blush under the dusting of freckles on his nose. He stared off in the distance with a smile on his face.
"Will, you're not...um, about Octavian, you aren't..." Nico left the words hanging because he couldn't exactly voice out the words "creeped out by me."
"Oh, that watered down jerk of a legacy of the Roman Apollo you mean? It was strange at first but when I think that if he didn't die, he could've added the to the casualties on our camp on top of what Gaea had caused, I figured let the Fates decide on this one. Plus, I just heard from Anabeth that he was going to decimate our camp with everyone in it using those onagers. Who in his right mind would sacrifice a whole camp of kids to an imaginary voice in his head? I shudder when I think about it. That kid needed help. I'm sorry he died in a horrible manner but if he hadn't, I wouldn't be here feeling sorry for him."
Nico just nodded. Will's tirade comforted him a little. It sounded really pragmatic coming from such a sunny healer guy. It was reassuring to know that even Will had a little darkness in him. Maybe, Nico wasn't so different after all.
"I've done something terrible before that," Nico declared in a flat tone. He told Will about Bryce Lawrence. He didn't know why he did but he just felt that Will's reaction would be the make or break deal. Will on his part listened carefully and didn't let out a word. No judgment. | f88dbda2755849b28a254c4d01ff93db | ['170538d95ca8494ca0065f2813d41f74'] | Nico snickered. "Yeah, just because I'm younger and smaller, they think they can harass me." His eyes began to take on that madman's gleam, which disturbingly enough, Will found adorable. He was like a diabolical black kitten who planned to manipulate the world through sheer cuteness and cuddliness alone. Will was beginning to understand how Jason and Percy treated Nico. It was as if he were their prickly little brother that they doted on. They poke and prod but whenever the little one lost his temper, they just let him hit them because it would look really bad if they fought back. Plus, how can you even think about hurting such a cute creature?
It dawned on Will that Nico had been capitalizing on his cuteness without meaning to. Nico thought that he creeped out the people around him but the truth was that to those who knew him well, he was just their moody and secretive little brother. He was talking to Will because Will was different from his other friends. They were on a more even footing. This gave him an idea.
"Nico."
"Yes?"
"Are you feeling better now that you've let that out?"
"Yes?"
"You had a crush on Percy?"
"Yes."
"So you are..."
"I am what I am."
"But Percy's not your type."
"For the millionth time today, no, he's not my type. Why are you asking me this? What's your type anyway?"
"I'm very particular, I guess. Dark-haired Italians that are shorter than me who happen to be spawns of the underworld."
"You are aware that you've just described Benito Mussolini." Nico smiled as he said this. It made Will laugh.
"Smartass." Before Will lost his nerve, he got up from his chair and gave Nico a peck on the cheek. "Don't worry. When Percy comes in later, I'll make sure to tell him I'm your type."
**Author's Note:**
> I imagined Nico's being more forthcoming and aggressive in here, more of what he was like when he was an annoying kid. Plus, the way he interacted with Will when they met before the Romans attacked made me realize that Nico isn't a shy kid. He's a brooding geek but he's not shy about telling others off. Hope this made you laugh. |
89a4c23ea0654d5bba656de0659ab5bf | ['173c93711a224bcda70a2757873c31f3'] |
Shards of glass
**Author's Note:**
> Hullo! A bit of stormpilot for your liking
>
> Yet again; originally posted at: ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash
>
> So anyway, enjoy!
>
> Sophie
Light.
At least, it seemed to be light.
If anything it was just white, yet it didn’t seem to hurt his eyes, just comforted him in a sense.
Soft, not like the white above him, but below him was soft. He wasn't sure what the soft was but it was soft.
The air felt warmer than before, what happened before? He wasn’t sure but the air sure was warmer than after whatever happened.
His finger twitched slightly, itching to get moving whilst it was forced to wait up for the rest of his body to catch up with such pure energy.
He slowly inhaled then froze, expecting something, almost like a blow, yet nothing hit him.
His eyes fluttered open slightly, the lids pulling back to reveal a soft white, almost clinical surrounding, yet rather than being a barren surrounding, it seemed to be made specifically to be comfortable, with his bed being larger than any he had ever received in the barracks of the first order, and having a light, yet still overly large quilt which kept him just warm enough, maybe it was thermally regulated or something like that?
The light that was above him was more of a glow than a harsh shine, which he had become so accustomed to.
He sat up slowly, shaking his head slightly, and brought his hand up towards his face, only to find that it was blocked by something.
He turned towards his right shoulder and saw a bandage spanning from the to, winding all the way down his back, leaving only his left shoulder untouched.
Suddenly, he felt memories of a snowy mountaintop flood in.
The fight.
Rey.
Oh god was Rey alright?
He shifted his feet from under the blanket and brought them to the floor, which seemed a lot colder than the bed which he had previously occupied, it was a really nice bed.
A girl, probably no older than he was, came over to him with a tray carrying an array of different things, which all he could think of was poke, prodd, stab and annoy.
“Finn, Finn i'm going to need to get you to stay here for a bit, and maybe relax, your heart rate is going far too quickly for someone who just woke up from a coma,” she held some sort of a sensor up to his shoulder, the bound one, and nodded, as if somewhat satisfied with the results that they displayed on the miniature screen.
She reached to her tray and produced a small torch, and shone it in one of his eyes, to which point he jerked away, the light seeming to blind him momentarily. She simply steadied his face and repeated the process.
She then picked up a tablet and typed something in, muttering something about ‘unimpaired cognitive functions’.
He shook his head and begun to stand up, before being gently pushed back on the bed by the medical advisor.
“I’m sorry Finn, but i’m under strict orders to get you to remain here until relieved by the commander.”
Finn frowned in confusion, was he in trouble, was there something that he had done which he shouldn’t have? Maybe it had something to do with lying about knowing how to disable the shields, even though he had, he might still be in trouble because of it.
The medial advisor gave a small giggle, shaking her head.
“If you think you’re in trouble, you’re not, its just that if you go wandering around the base he won’t be able to know if you’re alright.”
Finn cocked his head to the side, he was becoming more and more perplexed by the second. So a random guy wanted to see him and make sure he was alright? Perhaps it was chewie.
His mind jumped back to Rey, and he began to twist around, trying to catch sight of her in one room or another.
“WHere’s Rey, where is she, is she-” The medical supervisor gently shushed him, squatting down so that she was at eye level with him, and placed on hand above his.
“Finn, your friend is fine, better than fine even. She’s just not on world right now, she’s gone with commander Chewbacka and and R-2 unit, so if you don’t see her, it’s just because she’s off world, i assure you she’s fine.”
Finn let out a breath, silently thanking whatever gods or entities that he could think of, believed in by him or not they were getting thanked.
He lay back on the bed, with his feet still dangling off the sides, and closed his eyes, letting himself relax somewhat, which, he now realised, he had never really had the chance to do.
His breaths began to slow, and he felt himself melt into the bed, letting the silence of the room engulf him and lull him into a somewhat hazy, dreamlike state, not quite asleep yet not completely awake.
“Finn!”
A voice echoed from down the hall, desperation clear in their voice, which also seemed to be coated in fear, as if there was some horrific, terrible reason to be afraid. The footsteps that accompanied the voice were fast approaching, their claps against the cement bouncing off the walls.
Of course, Finn immediately sat up, bolt upright as he heard the person get closer and closer and closer within every second. Yet Finn didn’t understand what the rush was for, he had just woken up and he was pretty sure that he wasn’t going anywhere with miss medical lady on standby, yet this person, which he had now assumed was a man, sounded as if he only had seconds to get to him before Finn would vanish forever. | e0b4f076f30b472aa794c72ed4421ef6 | ['173c93711a224bcda70a2757873c31f3'] |
A setup for a bad joke
**Author's Note:**
> Hullo hullo! Its me again
>
> Here's another stanfou fic for you to enjoy and as per usual it was originally posted on tumblr: ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash
>
> Anyway enjoy the gay
>
> Sophie xx
The best part about the ‘Antlers’ pub was that, despite the thick crowd which usually congregated on a tuesday night, Lefou felt that the atmosphere was more calm than anything else. Occasionally at this time of night, there would be a couple of know it alls fighting over who could get the barmaids number (despite her never agreeing to have given it in the first place) or someone proclaiming himself the best at pool in the bar, thus initiating an intense game which resulted in cheering and annoyed grumbled from whoever had lost that night, yet tonight, it was peaceful. No agitated testosterone filled men who wanted to prove himself worthy and no singalongs which they all seemed so fond of. Silence.
LeFou was currently engrossed in a novel which was set in front of him. Of course it took him time to figure out what it actually said and thanks to his specialised glasses, that time had halved, yet being dyslexic had its downsides.
A couple of men across the bar sat down and scooted close to one another, whispering to the person who was sat in the centre of the trio, each of them gesturing towards Lefou, yet he was not aware of the congregation, in the book, Briony had just walked in on Cecilia and Robbie.
A figure was walking over from the bar, two beers in hand and a sketchbook precariously balanced in the crook of his elbow, as well as a mechanical pencil gritted between his teeth, if seen out of context, one would have even considered the situation comical, somewhat.
When the man finally made it to the table, he gently placed each beer in the center, before sliding the sketchbook and the pencil along with them.
Lefou looked up from his book to see a man. A tall man at that. This was also a particularly attractive man who seemed to be extremely well dressed, considering their surroundings, yet the man stood there with an eager grin and a small blush on his cheeks.
He extended his hand towards Lefou, with perhaps a slight tremor, and stood waiting for Lefou’s response.
Lefou gave him a nervous smile and mirrored the stranger, extending his own hand and grasping his, giving it a small shake.
“Can I help you sir?” He inquired.
The stranger gave a small chuckle and shook his head.
“Pardon me, where are my manners! My name’s Stanley, I believe you room with a mutual acquaintance of mine?”
Lefou felt himself grown only more confused until it finally clicked.
“Oh! You were one if Gaston’s friends?”
Stanley grinned wider at this, he sure did like grinning.
“Yes! He left quite suddenly last year, what happened to him?”
Lefou gave an amused snort and closed the book, laying it to rest on the table.
“Didn’t you hear? Attempted murder,” Lefou replied humorously, shaking his head at the table, before being drawn to the beer which stanley was now sliding towards him, mouth agape.
“You’re kidding,” he all but whispered.
“Nope, you remember Belle, history of literature major? Her boyfriend.”
Stanley just sat, running his hand over his hair which seemed to be drawn back into a makeshift ponytail with about half of it trying to be free somewhat.
He let out a huff of air from two almost parted lips, and gave a light chuckle.
“Come to think of it, if i would have predicted someone…” he left the sentence hanging, nothing else really needed saying.
“So,” stanley began, his eyes flitting between the book on the table and back to Lefou.
“Atonement?” He questioned.
Lefou rubbed the back of his neck, whilst also giving a small laugh.
“Yeah… I do an English Literature major, its one of the required readings,” he replied slowly.
Stanley beamed at this, and Lefou wasn't exactly sure why, but rather than be intimidated by the large grins which stanley sent his way, he was quite comforted by them, there was something warm in his smile, almost reminding Lefou of the feeling that he got when looking at sunflowers, or perhaps when the sky was blue one day, with small clouds passing over them in a lazy way, with a small breezy passing through your hair, a lukewarm one, that didn't feel humid, or scorching, or freezing, but lazy, and gentle, that was how that smile made him feel.
“So what do you major in?” Lefou asked, now curious about the man sat opposite him.
Stanley looked down to his lap, the blush which previously illuminated his cheek spreading down to his neck, and one of the hairs which had come loose slowly sliding down to cover a small portion of his face.
“I’m a, well…” he paused, and sucked in a breath from his two front teeth “a design major.”
Lefou gave him a smile.
“No wonder you look so good in that shirt,” he quipped, earning him a grateful smile in return, which seemed to break whatever ice would have surrounded them further into the evening.
As the night continued, laughter ran from each mouth, each word and each syllable just as eager as the last, both of them leaning in further and further through the conversations, the jokes that they made prompting more flirtation which lead to more conversation, to the point where they seemed to have lost all sense of grammar and were just spouting random out of context words and giggling at each other, yet it seemed natural, and almost calming to see someone else laugh senselessly at a word so obscenely odd that it made both confused to the point of hysterics. |
f9df5c4892324dc091586f0b0a8b9e3c | ['1757a395f1374b18b9c4db973170577f'] |
Oblivion’s Been Calling Since it Found Out Where I Live
You’d spin it like a story if you could, curl the words once, twice, three times into a rap – something you can spit into a mic, edit until you hate, save under a name like _thisbullshit.mp3_ and then forget about altogether.
According to Rose this is _disassociation_. According to you, this is _shut the fuck up i dont need your condescending concern lalonde this is just another way for you to feel better than me well you dont get it it is so fucking hard every fucking day it is so fucking hard_ –
And you go to the hospital to visit, every day. You always bring something - like a DVD he left at your place, or a potato chip you found that looks just like Bill Clinton if you turn your head thirty degrees to the right and crinkle your eyes. You find excuses wherever you can. _i just want you to be able to watch failure to fucking launch one last time before you go off to your dance party with the big g_
_before you get your one way ticket to godsville_
_before you start ordering dirt sandwiches from room service at the underground hotel -_
And he doesn’t smile at you, but he does that eyebrow-thing – the thing that he says he doesn’t do, but he totally does and you like it, you like it a lot – and he says, _That last one was pretty weak. I cannot believe I am saying this, but you’ve actually become more of a festering sack of bullshit than you were when I got here. All the goddamned painkillers they are giving me have, in absolutely no goddamned way, made you any more tolerable. How is that even possible?_
You let him riff on you for a while, and you look not at him, exactly, but directly to the left of him – out the low, thin window to a magnificent view of the parking lot. The cars are flush in the timid morning air - white with the unfulfilled promise of snow. You watch a dark stain of birds startle and leave tracks across the edge of the sky. You answer Karkat vaguely ( _don’t be like that princess, you know you love me_ and he snorts and hits you - but it doesn’t hurt, it feels like rain on the roof, like being eight, again, listening to your brother’s footsteps in the hall), you tell him what you remember of the news, tell him how everyone is doing without really touching them – you graze against Rose, Jade, Terezi, John. Don’t focus on why he needs you to fill him in on these things. You don’t talk about why they stopped coming, but you know he notices. He’s not that far gone. Not today.
His hair is matted on one side - the side where he usually sleeps, legs tucked beneath his chin, fists curling and tangled in the sheets. He is angry, yes – you can see that in the line of his spine, the set of his jaw, the way he spits monosyllabic answers at the nurses. He talks more to you than anyone else (according to Rose, who stopped driving down to see him under the guise of “gas prices”. _own up lalonde you just dont want to watch someone die youre just tired of hearing that itll get better and itll get better and then it doesnt ever get better hes always so fucking sick because he was born sick and nobody fucking deserves this nobody fucking_ – but you never said any of that. You shrugged and drank the chamomile bullshit she set in front of you and then drove home with the radio stuck on a channel that only played static, interspersed with startling ten-second bursts of colorful salsa music.) But Karkat isn’t angry the way you are. You bite your fists in the shower every morning – fantasize about killing the new parents in the apartment next to yours every night. You have this vivid, unnatural delusion that you’ll walk over there with your katana in hand, rap your knuckles in alternating pulses of three underneath the 105B sign peeling off their door, and when they let you in, you’ll cut them and their stupid loud baby into pieces, and then you’ll watch “The Price is Right” on their nice, big television until you fall asleep, drooling on your hand, the corduroy grain of their trendy couch imprinted permanently into your cheek. You imagine that, somehow, will make things even.
Karkat fights sleep when you are there, even though you tell him _fuck off into dreamland ill tell you if you miss anything really good here broski_ , but he doesn’t listen, just rubs the heels of his hands deep, deep into his eye sockets. You are filled with the incredible urge to ask what he sees back there – the ocean or the stars. You always thought the iridescent map of your veins looked like a lightning storm, but Jade said she saw the depths of the sea when she squeezed her eyes tight behind her palms. You haven’t heard from Jade in three months. You decide not to ask Karkat. He’d be a dick about it.
_Fuck sickle-cells_. Karkat says, quietly. He is visibly exhausted, and his body has unconsciously curled toward you, so you can feel the heat radiating off his forehead brush your upper inner arm. _yeah fuck your communist cells man_. You crack a grin and he rolls his eyes and mouths _Weak analogy_ at you, but it doesn’t really matter, because you like him when he’s fuzzy like this. When sometimes he’ll grab your hand and fall asleep with it tucked beneath his collarbone. This time he doesn’t touch you, but he shivers a little closer, closes his eyes.
_Thanks._
He says it in a crunched way, like it hurts.
_Thanks for coming, still._
You don’t say anything, just swallow the extra saliva that has somehow pooled in the very back of your throat, and you reach out and very lightly brush the hair from his slick, sticky forehead. He shakes and sighs and you take that as your cue to move on to the bed and sit next to him, fingers playing lazily in his hair, fingers occasionally dipping to check the pulse on his neck, feel it slow as he finally falls into shuddering, tenuous sleep.
When you wake, his head is tucked beneath your chin and he is shoving his sharp little hands into your stomach.
_You’re taking up all of the bed, you tremendous fuck sponge_. He says.
And he smiles.
**Author's Note:**
> Title from “Only Existing Footage” by The Extra Lens | 35379b3993974a618d9147b38890f236 | ['1757a395f1374b18b9c4db973170577f'] | “Oh, Rose, I had the funniest thing happen to me the other day that I wanted to tell you about, Davey offered to pop by and check out the mouse situation that I have going on in the lab, and I swear, when he went down there we found about fifty of ‘em – maybe more. It was like The Rats of Nimh in there, I swear to _God_ , they’d started some kind of sentient colony and were plotting to have a little mouse sacrifice to their benevolent cheese-queen. That’s me, of course, the cheese queen. I know I shouldn’t feed them, but they’re awfully cute, I really couldn’t help mysel-“
“ _Mother._ ” As riveting as you find The Grand Mouse Saga to be, you really just want to get this out and over with. “Sorry. Mom. I’m a little short on time, and I just wanted to tell you that –“
“Oh, of course, of course, I’m sorry for interrupting, googlybear, please, continue. Don’t let me get in your way.”
You try to sigh as quietly as possible, but know that your mom will pick up on the strain in your voice. “….Thank you. I just wanted to let you know that Kanaya and I are…Well, we’re. Um. You see, we’ve decided to –“
“Oh, honeypeach, I really want to hear all about this, but the Cable Man just walked in and he’s got a lot of stubble and no wedding ring. Mama loves you, but mama also has to take care of herself, if you know what I mean. As long as you’re thinking that what I mean is that I’m going to seduce the cable man. Because that’s what I mean. Okay, okay, okay. Kisses! I’ll call you back, okay? Okay!”
You listen to the rustle and bang as she tries to place the receiver back on to the base of the phone. You hang up first.
***
One week later, and Kanaya’s missed her period.
Two weeks later and you’re outside the bathroom while she runs the faucet so you can’t listen to her peeing.
Two weeks and three minutes later and you’re watching two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test.
Two weeks, three minutes and thirty seconds later, and you have a lap full of Kanaya, kissing every available inch of you and crying soft, silent tears that drip down your neck and bleed into your collar.
Two weeks, three minutes and thirty one seconds later, you realize that you’re fucked.
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Captain Morgan and his band of rowdy pirates interrupt the story. A.K.A. The chapter in which Rose behaves badly.
_Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs_
_About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,_
_The night above the dingle starry,_
_Time let me hail and climb_
_Golden in the heydays of his eyes,_
_And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns_
_And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves_
_Trail with daisies and barley_
_Down the rivers of the windfall light._
- Dylan Thomas, “Fern Hill”
The concrete is smooth against your face, it radiates a blessed warmth, gathered from a day’s worth of strong, oppressive sunshine. You find yourself filled with a narrow kind of intensity, lying here on the roof of Dirk and Dave’s apartment complex. You used to climb up here quite a lot as a teenager – Dave and you would shimmy up the fire escape to get away from your mother, your brother – to drink stolen Shiraz, and smoke cheap Swisher Sweets and eat Swedish Fish and feel messy and dumb – full of that sloppy, unformed, and boundless confidence that comes so easily with being fifteen. Your baby will be fifteen, one day. Will find roofs of his or her own to spit off of, will find jokes that make him or her laugh until wine snorts into her or his nasal cavities, and she or he tastes an undercurrent of alcohol and rot on his or her breath for weeks.
You told Kanaya that you were going to the store for a while – going to get milk – and you believed it, believed that you just needed a second to clear your head, create a physical distance between you and the idea of _having a child at twenty three,_ of having a living creature touch you and need you and fall asleep on your chest, and so you walked down three fluorescent aisles before the cheap, dirty siren song of Captain Morgan pulled you too strongly, through the check out and to the roof, so close to the silver shell of the sky, you shivered and smoked and it hurt, it _hurts_ , and you are just not ready but the train has left the station and you find yourself watching your life from far away. You’ve started to forget what it even looked like, before. |
5fa670f6bd8b4d3b975013807f568a39 | ['1777d32a1efc4b8f9f7dba24d9054e5d'] | **Author's Note:**
> Sometimes it's difficult to remember that the Warrior of Light is just an adventurer whom Hydaelyn smiled upon, and the whole driving point behind the Dark Knight quest-line.
Because really, who hasn't thought about it?
Alexander towered above, looming ominously over the Dravanian Hinterlands. It's not the first Time such considerations were contemplated.
The power to travel through Time and fix past mistakes. Mistakes that should never have been made.
Fallen comrades and those now departed, they could be brought back could they not? If there was enough aethor--surely.
Behind the dark bliss of resting eyes, in those oh so rare moments of peace before the next battlefield once more called the Warrior of Light to arms, is wintry blue hair and a pair of deep blue eyes. Not like Aymeric's frosty blue, but deeper. A royal blue that could even now be seen without sight, as could the brilliant smile of the same.
Many had deemed the esteemed warrior of light the one who bore the hopes and dreams of all, and it was done.
A nod here, a nod there, taking sugar and lumps alike with nary a complaint.
But the Warrior of Light, warrior though they may be, was no blade to be brandished. For a blade could not be steeled with the same passion and determination, could not burn with the same resolve.
Nay, the Warrior of Light, for all their inhuman feats, was but of humble flesh and blood.
Kneeling and whispering words all but lost to the wind, does hope stand once more, to carry on the fight and see that another dawn should rise.
But it is not alone that the Warrior of Light stands. And carried with hope close to heart, are the precious memories of simple Times shared, of unconditional kindness and friendship undeterred, and of hot chocolate so gently sweet. | a29d4a4acd1d4a3d90b1bacb3951c420 | ['1777d32a1efc4b8f9f7dba24d9054e5d'] | Contemplations
Though the Warrior of Light, ever on the move, meets many, he forgets few.
It was as it always was.
With the path to Ala Migho newly paved and bringing with it fresh opportunities and potential both, it saw to it that many returned to their adventuring ways. Where they had taken a break before to rest, weary and spent from their previous trials, did they now spring forth to greet the coming storm.
Many a familiar face and name did he greet, and with each the fresh promise of a budding friendship.
One he took at but the face value.
For if it were anything more, then he wouldn't have wandered the vastness of Gyr Abania, Hingashi, and Othard all, on his own.
More over, there was something that lingered with him in those that he met.
A primitive fear and desperation, the despair that resounded so heavily.
There was no triumph, no glory, and certainly no honor in taking their lives.
Though the Alliance had lauded him a hero, he felt but a murderer.
He saw Drest in each and every one of the men he slew, their eyes regarding the warrior of light with despair, knowing they were but the foot soldiers and that they would never see their families again thanks to him.
No one wanted to be there. Everyone had a reason to be. To feed their families, to protect themselves and their family by bending a knee.
Not everyone was a warrior of light, nor could he expect them to be.
And it stung.
Bravery and honor were for the strong... And the dead.
Lyse had proclaimed that there was no Life in slavery. Yet she did not truly understand what her people felt. No uprising of their own strength could have toppled imperial rule.
He felt lost.
Agitated.
For the lives he took, and the blood that now stained his hands so deeply.
Though he had no qualms with getting his hands dirty, this wasn't the kind of dirt he would have tolerated given the choice.
But such was not a luxury afforded to the bringer of light. On his back would he carry their dreams and push forward, no matter the cost. Not even when it came in compromising and losing himself, as he was slowly chipped away.
After seizing the bridge he had seen the war captives, the imperial soldier, a Sea Wolf cried out for mercy at the end of an Adder's spear. Another, a Plainsfolk mumbled to himself, diminutive form quivering.
Even as he averted his gaze like the coward he was, and walked away, he could hear his whimpering cries.
"Not like this... Not like this!"
He never found out what happened to them.
But if he truly cared, wouldn't he have asked? Certainly no one of the Alliance would deny him.
And yet he never would, too afraid to look back and see the mountain of corpses and blood that followed in his wake.
Even as he walked away, however, he could feel their empty accusatory stares on his back.
The proclaimed hero trudged the lonesome path heading north from Camp Dragonhead.
His pilgrimage in the private hours when he could no longer outrun himself nor the thoughts that pervaded his mind, howling and shrieking at him in the absence of action.
Peace indeed.
Never would he know it.
At the peak he bent a knee, head low as he placed fresh flowers upon the memorial, and brushed away the frost that clung to the icy rock and obscuring the name of that whom it was dedicated to.
Satisfied with his work he sat on his rump, ignoring the biting cold that was already seeping in.
From his knapsack he pulled out the oriental treats he had brought back with him, and gingerly set a teacup before the silent sentinel of stone.
When all was ready he started the Nexus Kettle, and within mere moments, was mixing in the ingredients.
He poured them both a cup, the slight tremble in his wrist the only sign in his otherwise languid and methodical movements that belied none but the indifference on his visage.
There he contemplated much, shared the thoughts he couldn't speak.
Laughed together, though it would be but the wind that accompanied him in the high altitudes.
Yet by the end of the afternoon tea did it see both cups empty.
He gathered his belongings, promising to return just as he always had.
Though it would always be, but too late.
**Author's Note:**
> The warrior of light is always keeping himself busy even in the downtime between battles. |
af986e16f5394a929ce647957cd760eb | ['1784f5daf3da48a0bab5fde48937058e'] | “Doubt that was magic either, but let me check.” Being as mindful as I can be of where I place my feet, I crouch over the body, leaning in closer to the torn throat, closing my eyes and focusing as best I can.
No, still nothing. I open my eyes as I stand up, saying, "No, the weapon's not magic either. We can do a sweep of the house, if you like."
"Yeah, do that," Stephanopoulos says in an odd tone, watching me closely. Sahra's watching me in the same manner, alert and considering.
It's while we're going up the stairs that Sahra says, softly so as not to be overheard, "I didn't realize the crime scene would be so...gruesome."
"That's all right," I say, adding without thinking, "It's not like I haven't seen worse this past year."
"Worse than that?"
I stop dead in my tracks as I realize what I've said, as the smell of burning flesh comes back to me, the roar of the crowds at Smithfield, Tyburn trying to get me through the crowd, the two of us always searching for that figure in motley, waiting for that high-pitched cackle--
So many scenes like that, or worse than that, enough to blur together in a horrible kaleidoscope of violence and death, enough that now the sight of one horribly murdered victim with his throat severed practically from ear to ear didn't phase me at all. Instead I'd acted as though I'd been looking at a spreadsheet.
Fuck. Fuck.
"Peter?" Sahra says, and from the worried note in her voice, not for the first time either. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," I say shortly. "Yeah, I'm all right."
It's a lie, but Sahra does me the favor of not saying so.
*
It's not until we're back inside the car that Sahra apologizes. "I shouldn't have brought you with me, should I?"
I open my mouth to reassure her, but Sahra's watching me from the driver's seat with so much sympathy that the words die off in my mouth. "It's all right, I say finally. "I'd like to be...useful, at least, while I'm stuck playing Schrodinger's Cat."
"Schrodinger's Wizard, surely," Sahra says with a reassuring smile. "But if you want to be useful, you can help me work out my problem with _impello_ \--my apples still move through the air like drunken bumblebees."
"Hey, if they aren't exploding, you're ahead of the curve," I say.
"That's impossible when you're in the same class as Abigail," Sahra says with a grin, and fair play there.
I hesitate, and then ask the question that’s been lingering in the back of my head. “You becoming a wizard,” I say slowly, not sure how to word this. “It wasn’t--”
Sahra glances over at me, eyebrow raised. “Are you asking if I did it just because you were gone?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Sahra pauses before answering me, considering. “It was...complicated,” she says finally. “I won’t lie to you, the Met strongly encouraged that I do it, and it was obvious Nightingale needed the support, but also…” She licks her lips nervously, and admits, “You cast a hell of a shadow when you disappeared. I didn’t want Abigail to be carrying the burden of it alone.”
I don’t say anything at first, and Sahra gives me a crooked smile. “Don’t worry,” she says kindly. “I knew what I was doing, and I don’t regret it.” She shrugs a little, and adds, “And being a wizard means that the next time some racist bastard tries to rip off my hijab, I can use magic on him rather than having to take him down with my fists and baton.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “And...thank you.”
Sahra shrugs a little again, and we both silently agree to leave the conversation there. She does her best to make it easier for me on the drive back to the Folly, keeping the music on the radio turned down low, keeping the conversation light and easy. I do my best to keep up with her, but still, out of the corner of my eye--I'm still waiting to see that flash of motley, I'm still listening for the faint jingle of bells and that high-pitched cackle.
*
The rest of the afternoon is thankfully low-key. I end up sitting in on Sahra's practice with impello, and that's a pleasantly surreal moment, watching Sahra frown in concentration, magic in the air as she carefully lifts an apple and attempts to hold it directly in front of her. She's not at the stage yet where she has a _signare_ of her own, although I can tell that it's Nightingale who's trained her.
At one point, Sahra gives me a sideways look, and then pushes a basket of apples my way.
"What, you want a demonstration?"
"Yeah, actually," Sahra says, grinning at me. "Go ahead, show me how it's done."
And that's how I end up juggling apples in the air with magic, while Sahra stands back and folds her arms, saying, "Now this is just showing off right here."
"Hey," I say, grinning, "You asked me to show you how it's done."
"And I'm regretting it more and more with each second," Sahra says dryly, and then turns around to see Nightingale hovering in the doorway--neither of us had heard him, with is par for the course with how quietly he moves about.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, and I let the apples gently drift down to the table.
Sahra kisses her teeth softly in a show of indignation, and I grin at her. "Wouldn't want the apples to get bruised," I say, and she just rolls her eyes at me.
"Can't have that, obviously," she replies.
Nightingale's watching us both with a faint smile on his face, and he says, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I wondered if I could steal Peter for a bit."
"Of course," I say, getting to my feet. | e7048b8c44a94875a363fd125d66995e | ['1784f5daf3da48a0bab5fde48937058e'] | I sighed. Beverley, to my surprise and Nightingale’s delight, turned out to be as passionate a fan of rugby as Nightingale was, and the two of them could spend ages together (and had done) enthusing and lamenting the national rugby team in equal measure. “Yeah, all right.” I glanced over at him and suggested, in a fairly casual manner, “But you could invite her over yourself too, you know.” At Nightingale’s raised eyebrows, I said, “It’s not like your phone doesn’t work. And I know you’ve got her number programmed in there.”
Nightingale’s eyebrows went up even higher, but he said, in a thoughtful tone, “I suppose I could at that.”
Not five minutes later, I got a text from Bev. _Forget the crap film, it’s rugby all the way with me._
It figured, I thought, but I was still smiling as I set my phone down on the nightstand and went to turn out the lamp. I woke up in the morning to find Nightingale’s arm slung around my stomach, his head on my shoulder and his hair in total disarray--no matter how we went to sleep, I’d always wake the next morning to have him curled around me like an octopus. I also had two texts from Bev on my phone, and Nightingale had three from her, all of which he ended up reading aloud to me at the breakfast table.
And if you haven’t seen Thomas Nightingale try to verbally describe an emoji, then you just haven’t lived.
*
Three months later, I woke up in a private room at UCH, my head clouded, a dull ache in my stomach that promised to turn into thundering agony should I move even an inch, and Nightingale’s even voice reciting out loud, “ _The dragon removed the claw from its mouth in one graceful movement and caught the high priest, who was just sneaking away, a blow which knocked him high into the air. When he was screaming at the top of the arc the great mouth came around and-- ‘Gosh!’ said Lady Ramkin…_ ”
I licked my dry lips and turned to the side, and sure enough there Nightingale was, sitting in a chair in a dark blue suit, my dog-eared copy of _Guards! Guards!_ in his hand.
“Thomas, he’s awake,” Bev’s voice said from the other side of my bed, and Nightingale’s head shot up as I turned to look at her. She was rather underdressed, for her, in a black t-shirt and jeans and, oddly enough, a ball of yarn with knitting needles stuck through it in her lap.
I peered at her, then at Nightingale. I was about to open my mouth and ask if he was really reading Pratchett to me, but then my memory returned and I remembered exactly what happened to land me in hospital.
As it turns out, being stabbed is not the sort of thing one forgets easily.
“Fuck me, I got stabbed,” I said aloud.
“Yes, and I would very much urge you not to do it again,” Nightingale said, rather tight-lipped.
I’d have pointed out that it wasn’t exactly like I’d gone looking to get stabbed, but there was another pressing concern at the moment. “Is the kid okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine,” Nightingale said, and Beverley interjected, “And you’ve got thirty stitches holding your guts together. Just in case you were wondering about that.”
It wasn’t quite thirty, as I found out later, but Bev wasn’t too far off the mark.
My head still felt muddled, so much so that I didn’t think of anything to say but, “They’d just thrown the kid off the roof, Bev. I had to take my shield off, otherwise I'd have never gotten to her in time.”
Bev stared at me for a moment, her mouth as tight and as unhappy as Nightingale’s, before she came in to gently sit at the edge of the bed next to me and leaned in close to whisper into my ear.
“If you ever get yourself stabbed again,” she said softly, her breath warm against my cheek, “I’ll throw the kind of fit that will make what I did at Covent Garden look like a leaking faucet, do you understand me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I hear you.”
Bev lifted her head to look me over, and then glanced over at Nightingale. “I’m not as bad as Thomas, though,” she said archly. “At least I wasn’t throwing fireballs around.”
“Only just the one,” Nightingale said, dry.
(I would later find out that one of the suspects--the one that had stabbed me--died via a fireball to the heart. The other one died thanks to a sudden and massive hemorrhage in his lungs, and Dr. Walid's autopsy report would pointedly note how it was as if the suspect had drowned in his own blood.)
My eyelids were growing heavy despite myself. “You’ve been reading Pratchett to me.”
“Yes, it’s not bad,” Nightingale said. “Judging from the condition of the book, I’m guessing it’s a particular favorite of yours.”
I hummed in agreement, and Bev laughed a little. “Don’t tell me--Sam Vimes is the reason you decided to join the Met. You read this book as a spotty teenager and thought the police force was the closest you'd ever get to fighting a dragon."
"It didn’t happen exactly like that. I'll tell you someday,” I promised her, and I would, because there would be time. With her, with Nightingale, countless more moments when I had the two of them on either side of me, where I was exactly where I wanted to be.
Minus the gaping stab wound, obviously.
I was on the verge of drifting back into sleep, and all of us knew it, but I managed to force my eyes open just long enough to say to Nightingale, “Keep reading. I like hearing your voice.”
Nightingale gave me the smile of his I liked best, soft and sweet, his eyes seeming to light up for just a moment. Then he turned back to the book and continued, “ _There was a groan from the watchers…_ ”
Bev’s hand slipped into mine as Nightingale continued to read.
I fell asleep long before Vimes and Carrot arrested the dragon, but that was all right. I knew how the story went, anyway. |
f98211b1fc7d4fcfa8db69f2feb82e58 | ['1786c65a77af46d086813525ee1edc90'] | When he heard the voice that had said those words, Kanji fell his blood freezing.
«Oh! You’re prince is here, Tatsumi!»
One of the thugs, with which the boy was having a fight, immediately commented on the arrival of the girl, without wasting time.
But Kanji ignored him.
He had to find a way to take the detective away.
The same guy who had talked grabbed Naoto’s wrist and Kanji jerked forward, ready to save her.
But, when the girl punched him in the face, making the thug lose his balance, Kanji couldn’t help but remain open-mouthed.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
43. #43
Naoto had never celebrate her birthday.
Since when she was a child, she had spent that day like the others, with the only difference of the cake that was served during the dinner.
Then, when her parents died, even the few celebrations she was forced to participate in disappeared and the girl stopped thinking about it, leaving the her grandfather the only person that made her birthday wishes.
But, when at midnight her phone rang and she saw that was a message of birthday wishes from Kanji, Naoto couldn’t hold back the tears of happiness that came from her eyes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
44. #44
It had been years since Kanji had had a fever.
Not that he was so sick to tell the truth but, when his mother had seen him in those conditions, she had prevented him from going to school.
Annoyed, the boy had tried to sew something, but his head hurt so badly that he had been forced to return to bed.
Because of this, now he was under the blanket, without nothing to do.
But, when Naoto entered his room, saying that she had come to keep him company, Kanji thought that he could stay in bed for another week.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
45. #45
If she was in Hell, it was exactly like Naoto thought it would have been.
Her head hurt so bad that it was like someone was beating it from the inside.
«Naoto? Are ya feelin’ better?»
A voice arrived from her side and she tried to focus on who had spoken, even if she knew who it was.
She tried to speak, but it was like she had a lump in her throat.
«Don’t force yourself, go back to sleep. I’m here with you.»
When Kanji whispered those words, laying a hand on her head, she closed her eyes again.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
46. #46
Kanji remembered very well his first encounter with Naoto.
How could he even think of forget it?
It was as if that scene was repeated every time his eyes met hers.
The boy didn’t know how to explain it, but every time that he looked at those dark and deep eyes, he felt a very strong sensation in his chest and it was as if someone was starting to make his heart pound.
And this had always happened, since their first meeting.
It was like that was a remainder: something that remembered him that he was irredeemably fallen for her.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
47. #47
If someone had asked her when she had fallen in love with Kanji, Naoto would have been in difficulty.
Even she didn’t know when that feeling, that now was part of her life, was born inside her.
To tell the truth, it seemed impossible that there had been a "before", a time in which they did not know each other and in which she didn’t think of him at least 90% of her time.
But, after all, it didn’t matter when it all started: the important thing for her was to continue to stay by his side until the end.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
48. #48
«What had gotten into ya?!»
Naoto winced.
«Do ya know that I’m stronger than ya! Why did ya protect me in that way?!»
«You were hurt, it could have been dangerous...» she whispered.
«It was dangerous for you too, Naoto!»
Kanji was right: shielding him and taking damage in that way wasn’t one of her best ideas.
Suddenly the boy pulled her to him, holding her in his arms.
«Please.– his voice was now flickering and his screams from before had become almost whispering –D-don't ever do it again.»
Naoto nodded and brought her arms around his body, hugging him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
49. #49
When Naoto had been kidnapped by the killer, she never thought that Kanji would react in that way.
Although a long time had passed since then, the girl could never forgot the way he had scolded her for that reckless gesture, while he was hugging her strongly, as if he was afraid she might disappear.
To tell the truth, even she didn’t know why she kept thinking about it.
The only thing she was aware of was that, even though he was scolding her, she had felt a feeling of happiness and affection that that she had seldom felt before.
**Notes for the Chapter:** | 7daa073a440c4f1a8d205df57723f773 | ['1786c65a77af46d086813525ee1edc90'] | For this, Naoto loved the moments they spent together, sitting
next to each other, exchanging messages that were only their and that the rest of the world could never understand.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
27. #27
Kanji didn’t know how he ended up in that situation.
Sitting on one of the chair of his class, the boy couldn’t help but look at Naoto that, only a few inches from him, was putting make up on his face for the beauty pageant to which the girl had registered them.
But, if before that wasn’t a thing that worried him, now that she was so close Kanji was really on the edge of madness.
«Kanji-kun? Why are you looking at me like that?»
The answer was obvious, even if he couldn’t said it out loud.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
28. #28
Naoto was in trouble.
In front of her school locker, the shoes still in her hands, she was completely motionless, looking at where Kanji was chatting with Naoki.
The detective knew it had been to long since she had started looking at him.
Her crush was becoming too apparent and the giggles of the students around her confirmed her suspicions.
She had to stop it, immediately.
But when Kanji turned to face her and smiled at her, Naoto couldn’t hide the blush that spread over her face, while also her lips also bend into a shy and too explicit smile.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
29. #29
«Should we dance?»
Even she didn’t know why she had made him that question, but, when she had seen him that was looking at her from a corner of the room, her legs had moved on their own and had taken her to him.
«W-What?»
«Everyone is dancing.– Naoto said, pointing at the others that were following the music of the club –I thought you wanted to try too.»
Only in that moment the girl thought that maybe she had misunderstood the look he had given her.
But, when she was about to leave, after apologizing, Kanji accepted her request.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
30. #30
Until that moment, Kanji didn’t think that such boring movies could exist.
He had been in that cinema for about two hours now, trying to understand the logic behind a movie whose title had already confused him.
He didn’t even know why he agreed to see something like that.
The only thing that was in it were talks.
No action, no fighting.
Only theories about who the murder could be.
But, when he looked at the girl sat next to him and saw how her eyes lit up while she was watching the screen, Kanji thought it was worth it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
31. #31
Naoto didn’t know how it was possible, but, every time she was stuck in a dead end, Kanji was always ready to help her.
Whatever the boy said or did, while she was fumbling for the answer to any question, it became the key to understanding the problem she had to solve.
It was like their mind were linked in a way that she can’t even imagine,
It was like he always exactly knew what she needed.
And, for this reason, the detective couldn’t help but think that that boy was one of the most important person in her life.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
32. #32
Kanji’d lost his favorite sweatshirt.
He had started looking for it for almost in his room two hours now, trying to understand where he could have hidden it a few days before, when he had tidy his closet.
But, at the moment, it was nowhere to be found.
The only explanation was that someone of the team had taken it the night before when they had gathered in his room.
He couldn’t forget something like that.
But, when Naoto went to him wearing his sweatshirt, apologizing to have taken it without permission, Kanji thought that it was not so unforgivable.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
33. #33
«This “-kun” thing is too damn formal. Why don’t ya call me only by my name?»
When Kanji said those words, all of Naoto’s movements froze and her face started to burn.
No-one had ever said something like that to her before and, from all the people she knew, she didn’t expect him to propose it to her.
Seeing her reaction, Kanji immediately tried to save the situation, saying that he wasn’t serious and that he was only joking.
But, when she open her lips and whispered his name without any honorific, a huge smile appeared on the boy’s face.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Remember to follow my Facebook page if you want to see WIP, notice about updates and more.
> Link: https://www.facebook.com/SofyTrancy/
34. #34
Naoto hated thunders.
Even she didn’t know why they had that effect to her, but, even if she knew it was totally irrational, the girl couldn’t suppress the fear that invade her when she heard them.
But, since she started to date Kanji, things were different. |
9d33bb895285486fab44aae4421e32d4 | ['179afce60ca2439cbc43296f68ab63f6'] |
Queen of the Ashes
Dany sits atop Drogon. The realization that she's won settling in slowly and she can't quite believe it-- she won with barely any casualties, and now King's Landing is hers for the taking, _the Iron Throne _is hers for the taking.__
__It's been years. For so long she's dreamed of this day, a reality that had seemed so far away, but was now just within her grasp. Dany wants to cry, wants to feel elated, wants to feel _something _, but she just feels numb.___ _
____She stares down at the people of King's Landing, so small and insignificant and weak as they run around in a panic, tripping over one another and trampling each other underfoot, she can't help but wonder why she'd even cared for them in the first place. These people hated her-- feared her even. Despite everything she'd done for them, all the wars and battles she'd won and fought and clawed her way out of through blood and fire and tears, just so she could save these pitiful creatures._ _ _ _
____The bells ring and Dany remembers Tyrion's warning, but those words seem hollow and pointless and fake. Everyone around her is fake and untrustworthy and she doesn't know how she's supposed to rule without being able to trust anyone except Greyworm. She begins to wonder if maybe this is how her father had felt-- a caged dragon backed into a corner with nowhere to go and no one to trust._ _ _ _
____The people cry out, joyous at the surrender, but all Dany can hear is the sound of Viserion screeching in pain as he falls to the icy ground. All she can smell is the death and decay surrounding her as she clutches at Jorah and begs him not to go. All she can feel is every single bolted arrow that rips Rhaegal apart before he falls into the watery depths of the ocean. All she can see is Missandei in chains as she stares down at Dany and says, "Dracarys" before her head is severed from her body_ _ _ _
____Was it worth it? She doesn't know. But in that moment, she feels nothing other than a cold, dark grief that threatens to overwhelm her entirely. It hurts to breathe, and a part of Dany wants nothing more than to see the world burn-- if only to pay it back an ounce of her grief._ _ _ _
____Drogon rises up and takes flight, sensing her intentions even before she herself can fully grasp them. Those damn bells are still ringing in her ears and she wants it to stop-- she wants everything to stop. Missandei's voice rings clear in her mind over the chaotic symphony of bells and screams._ _ _ _
____Dracarys_ _ _ _
_____Dracarys ____ _ _ _
______**Dracarys ******_ _ _ _ _ _
______Drogon swoops low and opens his mouth-- fire broiling in his chest and rumbling up through his throat, and it's almost like Dany doesn't realize what's happening. People are scattering underneath her, soldiers and civilians alike scrambling away from her in fear. Dany feels as if she's watching everything from very far away-- as if this is a dream and she's floating far above Drogon and the panicked masses beneath him._ _ _ _ _ _
_______You have a gentle heart ____ _ _ _ _ _
________Jorah's words seem to call out to her from somewhere far beyond the plane of the living and Dany draws back as if struck. Drogon makes a screeching noise of confusion as he pulls back-- a second away from burning hundreds of thousands of innocents. Dany is close enough now to see the faces of the men, women, and even _children _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
__________Small, chubby hands grasp at their mothers' dresses as they stare up at Drogon in awe and wonder. Dany feels a rush of shame that threatens to overwhelm her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
__________Was it worth it? She still doesn't know. But these people-- these children don't deserve a fiery death at the hands of Drogo's fire. That much Dany realizes. Even if they don't love her-- even if they fear her, Dany has chosen them. To care for them, nurture them, lead them, and break them free from this game of thrones that has caused so much suffering and anguish._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
__________At the moment however, Dany does not quite trust herself to be around them. With the reminder of all that she'd lost flooding her senses, she'd been on the verge of something terrible and devastating. Something she'd have no way of coming back from._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
__________Dany wonders again if this is how her father had felt in his mad delusions, a second away from burning the city to ashes, but Dany is not here to be Queen of the Ashes. With that in mind, Dany has Drogon flying far, far away from the burning temptation that makes her feel not quite like herself. She'll return once she's in a clearer state of mind, but for now her heart longs to see once again the plains that birthed her children, and buried her son._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
**Author's Note:**
> @ DnD, see? it wasn't that hard now, was it? Now if only I had the time and energy to fix what they did to Jaime, because that was a fucking tragedy as well.
>
> Edit: the second dracarys is supposed to be in italics, as well as Jorah's words. But I've edited this fic like 10 times and still haven't figured out how to make it work despite being able to italicize in other parts of the fic, so I'm basically giving up on having it italicized for now lmao | 1ded579815b94f71b62c8c38c2ce35ad | ['179afce60ca2439cbc43296f68ab63f6'] | So caught up in being tortured, Hana doesn’t notice when Yuna looks up at the commotion and grimaces.
Ji-hae does though, catching her eye from where they are settled on top of Hana. Yuna looks away. The lapse in concentration is long enough for Hana to shove them off of her.
“I hate you.” Hana says, wiping tears from her eyes. Hana had laughed so hard she’d cried.
“Love you too~”Ji-hae replies cheekily. Yuna sits up at that and Hana watches her leave without a single word or glance back at them.
Hana sighs, leaning back into the couch dejectedly, “We must have been too loud.”
“Mm, probably.” Ji-hae agrees, but it seems like their mind is elsewhere. Hana sighs and turns back to the game she’d been playing before Yuna had entered and stolen all her attention.
It was rare of Yuna to be around her, and Hana had been very happy, something that she tried not to examine too closely. Hana had thought that maybe she'd be able to approach Yuna and talk to her like a normal human being and clear any misunderstandings between them, but in the end, Hana hadn't been able to work up the courage to approach her.
“What am I going to do?” Hana asks after a few minutes of silence. Ji-hae shrugs.
“What do you mean?”
“About Yuna!”
“What did Yuna do to you?”
“Nothing! She’s done nothing!”
Ji-hae stares at her quizzically. “So, basically. You’re frustrated that she’s not being friendly with you? Don’t you have a lot of unfriendly rivals with how famous your are? What’s so special about her?”
Hana doesn’t answer for a moment. And then she mumbles something so quiet, Ji-hae has to lean forward a bit and ask, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I- I dunno.” Hana says, sincere and sounding a little lost. “I just, I really wanna be her friend?”
It’s a very weak explanation, but Ji-hae doesn’t reply. Instead, they’re looking towards the hallway behind them, as if someone is there.
Hana looks back towards where they're looking. The hallway is suspiciously, normally empty. She turns back to see Ji-hae staring at her with a mischievous grin, like they know something she doesn't.
Hana does not trust it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the lack of updates. College midterms are killing my soul x-x'
**Author's Note:**
> I'll attempt to update somewhat regularly but school and life in general can be a bitch sometimes. Regardless, I hope ya'll enjoy this fic as much as i enjoy writing it. |
59cb9e884563423695d5406d67d041d4 | ['17a751f836f94c6bb5fd6f093513ee00'] | On Sam’s twentieth birthday he wakes up next to Jess. Her hand cards through his hair as she watches him. Jess gently takes his hand in hers and turns it over. On Sammy’s palm is the word ‘Jerk’ written out in Dean’s handwriting. His face drops and he feels as if his heart has simultaneously stopped and started rushing in one moment. A tear falls down his cheek and soon enough he is bawling into Jessica’s shirt.
“You know who it is? Don’t you?” She whispers to him. Her voice is accepting, but low, and her eyes don’t shine the way they usually do when she looks at Sam.
He doesn’t lie to her. He doesn’t lie about this. “Yes.”
“Are you leaving?” Jess questions as she looks away from him.
“Not unless he comes here. Not unless he wants me.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Sam looks up sharply at her.
“You could have everything you ever wanted but you are going to throw it away out of cowardice. I know you love me, but sometimes you look at me and see someone else. You would be content with me, happy even, but you would always want more. Call him. He wants you. He would have to be an idiot not to.” Jess pick up Sam’s phone from the nightstand but he pushes it away. “Sam, call him.”
“I will but he won’t recognize that number.” Sam stands up and walks towards the closet. There is a small black duffle that she has never seen before and he pulls out an outdated cell and flips it open. Sam looks over at Jess. “Don’t hate me,” he mumbles just load enough for her to hear before punching in a number.
…
Dean stares as the tattoo on his palm as the phone rings. The elegantly scripted ‘Bitch’ inscribed there makes him want to cry. Sam left him and now it turns out they are soulmates. The phone rings again and Dean almost throws it against the wall but stops when he sees the caller id: SAMMY.
When he answers the line is silent for a moment. “Sam?” Dean asks.
“I’m here. Sorry, I don’t know what to say.” Sam’s voice is so low and Dean can hear the short breaths from his panicked brother.
Dean doesn’t even have to specify when he asks, “What does yours say?"
“Jerk.”
Dean’s lip quirks up with a small smile. "Bitch."
…
Jess left that morning and didn’t come back. She knows that Sam will drop out and that she won’t see him again. It’s time for her to look for her own soulmate anyway.
…
Their first meeting as soulmates doesn’t start with a fairytale kiss, though it does come later. It doesn’t even start with a hug. Instead it starts with a longing look and a realization that they don’t need to be apart ever again.
Few words are spoken on the drive out of Palo Alto and neither of them mention their clasped hands. | 152409897b104f9682dab496a0f989bb | ['17a751f836f94c6bb5fd6f093513ee00'] | "We tried calling you Bells, we tried finding you but you were gone. You shouldn't have done it Bells. We tried to find a way out of it for you. Why did you leave us Bells?" This was the first time in a while that I heard my big brother cry. In fact, he was almost hysterical.
"I had to save Sammy. I couldn't live without you two. I left because I knew you would try to find a way out and the demon said that if I tried Sammy would die again."
"Where are you Bells? I want to see you."
"I can hear them Sam… I'm in Forks living with Charlie. I was finishing up high school a few years too late, aren't you proud of me, Sam? Dad and Dean were so proud when I dropped out and got my GED so I could hunt more but you thought I should finish school, get a real job."
"I'm real proud of you Bells. I just wanted you to be happy though, I only ever wanted you to be happy and safe."
"We're not going to make it Bells; we're across the country… I don't know if I'll be able to do it Bells, I don't know if I'll be able to burn you."
"I don't care about a hunter's funeral. You can bury me in Bobby's backyard for all I care. Just please promise not to do what I did."
"You know we can't do that Bella. You mean the world to us."
"Tell me a story, a good one, not a hunt."
Dean thought for a moment, and then: "The Christmas where you and Sam were eight, Dad wasn't there and you guys were so upset that he was missing it. When you guys went to sleep that night I snuck out of the motel room we were renting and stole a little Christmas tree and two presents from some rich persons house, one who wouldn't notice it missing. I set up the tree and presents and when you woke up I told you that Dad came during the night and handed you each a present, which turned out to be Barbie dolls. Anyway that didn't matter so much as the present you gave me, you and Sam handed me a little gift wrapped in newspaper saying it was intended for Dad but you wanted _ME_ to have it. I opened it and there was a necklace with a little golden amulet on it… I haven't taken it off since."
"Your turn Sam."
Sam was ready with: "Fourth of July, we were thirteen, Dad was gone and Dean bought a box of firecrackers and fireworks. That was the first time we ever saw them. We went into a field in the middle of nowhere and you and I danced under the sparks while Dean lit one after another with a smile on his face, the biggest smile he had worn in years. You were wearing your only dress, the blue one that Dean and I bought you for your birthday that year."
"I remember that. After the fireworks were gone we sat on the hood of the Impala and watched the stars and the sun rise. You are still driving the Impala right Dean? You didn't get rid of our baby did you?"
"You're about to be ripped to shreds by hellhounds and we are talking about my car."
"We care, talking about my home Dean. We grew up in that car. It still has blocks in the radiator, an army man stuck in the ashtray, and our initials carved under the formats. She is more than just a car. She is a fucking '67 Chevy Impala and she is my home and if you screw her up I will kill you. Or torture you in Hell when you get there since this whole family is going. I… they're coming."
"I love you Bells."
"I love you too Sammy."
"I love you so much Bella even if I've never said it."
"I know Dean. I've never said it either but I love you too. Play Hells Bells when you bury me. That was always my song."
That's when the hellhounds broke through the door and attacked me. I screamed, as much as I fought not to, as their claws tore into me and their teeth sank into my flesh. One ripped into my throat and I was done.
**Author's Note:**
> I posted this almost 3 years ago on fanfiction.net and thought that as my most popular work to date it should also be posted here. |
eab0eb98ed124a3082328f6c6679e808 | ['17cdfd6885114343876ed0f74dbd29c8'] | your loved
Veronica sighed as she looked for new farmers, she kept seeing that each one had no interest in farming. The farmers that Oak Tree Town already had were Elise, Fritz, Eda, and Giorgio. Veronica wished that one or more people would have interest in farming, then she saw two people that had volunteered for farming. Johnny and Annie. Smiling as she wrote to them, she couldn't wait for them to arrived.
Almost a month before Johnny and Annie arrived, and Veronica was more than happy.
Veronica: "You two finally arrived!"
Johnny: "Yup. Sorry for the wait miss."
Annie: "We only got the letter a week ago."
Veronica: "Well, my name is Veronica."
Johnny: "Nice to meet you Veronica, I'm Johnny. And this is Annie."
Annie: "We're not siblings though. We're only childhood friends."
Veronica: "Well, let me show you were both of you can learn about farming."
Veronica lead the two to a farm where an old lady was watching her animals. Veronica told them that Eda was the oldest farmer around in Oak Tree Town, Johnny and Annie got along great with Eda great. Soon enough they were laughing at some jokes Eda told them about.
Johnny: "Glad we made the choice of coming here."
Annie: "Yea, if we didn't, then we wouldn't have met Eda."
Johnny: "Or Veronica."
Eda: "Such sweethearts. I'll go make some cookies for us."
Johnny: "Sweet!"
Annie: "Thanks!"
Johnny watched as each animal Eda owned, gazed and sat in the sun. Soon, he would have a farm of his very own. Annie, got up and went to Hanako. They both were fond of the cow, and Eda was more than happy to let them see her and take care of her.
Johnny: "More days of practicing farming gets more easy and somethings more harder."
Annie: "Yea...But it's worth it."
After an hour, Eda returned with some cookies. The three sat down by the water and talked. Johnny remarked about how cool Oak Tree Town looked when he and Annie first arrived here, and soon when both of them knew that they were going to be awesome farmers, they thanked Eda.
Johnny: "Pretty sure that once we're farming, we're going to be awesome!"
Annie: "Never know right?"
Eda: "That's right. You never know."
Johnny thought about everything that happened, meeting Veronica and Eda, learning about farming with Annie, just everything was perfect for him. Annie never thought about starting a farm life with Johnny, even for that matter, at all. Yet it was nice to know, everything was perfect right now.
Johnny: 'One day, I'm going to make everyone in Oak Tree Town proud! Not even other farmers can beat me!'
Annie: 'I hope that one day, everything will be perfect like this.'
Or that's what they thought. | 3322f16ecd6e4f2fb3537bc54542b0e4 | ['17cdfd6885114343876ed0f74dbd29c8'] | Rafiki-"For one, it makes anyone who uses it into a sleep so deep. And the memories are sometimes so strong and painful that the user gets tried of them and of life, so the user decides to stay in the memories until the user dies. Also, the user can die of starvation."
Simba-"Wow, but I can handle it! Please Rafiki, make the potion for me!"
Rafiki-(Mufasa, you have one strong cub.) Alright. But what about Nala and the cubs? Do they know about this?"
Simba-"No. And I plan to keep it that way. Only tell them about this, if something happens to me. Got it?"
Rafiki-"Yes. Okay, I'll make the potion."
Simba-'Brother, I can't wait to see what your life was like.'
Rafiki was thinking about the young cub that had meet a sad fate. He was in the middle of completing the potion when, Mufasa had put something on a drawing. And Rafiki noticed that it was a drawing of young prince Kion, Simba's son, the lion guard leader.
Rafiki-"Wha?"
Mufasa-Make sure Kiara, Kion, and Nala knows about Simba's brother.
Rafiki-'Won't Kion be confused then?'
Simba-"Rafiki! What's taking so long?"
Rafiki-"Almost done Simba!"
After Rafiki had the potion done, he went down to Simba and gave him the potion. But he wanted to know what the first memory Simba had of his brother.
Rafiki-"Simba, what was the first memory of your brother?"
Simba-"My father showed me the memory of when he was born and spending time with m-....our parents."
Simba couldn't say his parents, not now. He had a brother that shared parents with him. And he wanted to see his brother's life and love for him. He wasn't letting this go, not after hearing he had a older brother. Rafiki sighed, and told Simba to open up his mouth. He poured the potion into Simba's mouth, making Simba drink it.
Simba layed down and started to close his eyes. This was it, it was time for Simba to see his brother's life and what he meant to him. Rafiki went back up into his tree and grab his stick. He made sure that Simba was covered enough to be shaded from the sun light. Once that was done, he headed off to priderock, to tell Kiara, Kion, and Nala about the once older brother Simba had.
Nala and her cubs were taking a day off. Kion nuzzled up to his mother, Kiara did the same expect on the other side of Nala. Nala noticed Rafiki, and smiled. But that smile would be runed once the news was out.
Nala-"Rafiki, nice to see you."
Rafiki-"There's something that Mufasa wanted the three of you to know..."
Kiara-'Huh? Grandpa Mufasa? I wonder what Kion's thinking about this?"
Kion-'......What does grandpa want us to know?'
\----------------------------
Simba saw his brother running around trying to catch Zazu, their father was laughing. Simba felt kinda sad and happy at the same time. But he knew that they couldn't hear him, nor see him. Simba left a little sad that he never knew his brother, but at least he could see what he looked like.
Mufasa-"Kion, want the next lesson?"
Kion-"Yea sure."
Mufasa-"Okay. Well-"
Zazu-"Sire, the elephants needs to talk with you."
Mufasa-"About what?"
Zazu-"About the problem with the hyenas."
Mufasa-"Alright. Want to come Kion?"
Kion-"Sure."
Simba followed his father and brother. And saw that Kion was friends with some elephants. Just like his own son. Simba watched as his father showed Kion the circle and where each animal lived. And soon the sun started to set. Mufasa took Kion under the stars and told him about the kings of the past.
Kion-"Really? Grandpa and grandma's up there?"
Mufasa-"Yes, they are."
Kion-"Cool."
Mufasa-"So whenever you feel alone, just remember that they'll always be there to guid you and so will I."
Kion-"I'll remember that."
Simba-'........Kion.....Dad....'
After Mufasa took Kion home, Simba looked at the sky. Thinking about the warning Rafiki gave him, but he needed to do this. So he waited until morning. Then Simba thought he might go see Scar, and what he though of Kion.
Finding Scar wasn't hard, Simba saw another lion he didn't know about. The lion had a brown mane and green eyes. Simba started to get worried, but he calmed himself down. He listened for clues about who the lion was and what would happen.
????-"Scar, you know that runt took your place for the throne."
Scar(Good)-"So? I love my nephew. Honestly Chike, I don't what your so worried about."
Chike-"Scar think about it, without that runt, your first in line for the throne. The one that Mufasa took from you."
Scar-".....Don't...."
Chike-"Don't what Scar? You it's true."
Simba-'Who? Chike? He better not hurt my brother!'
Scar-".....What do you want to do?"
Chike-"Simple, kill the runt."
Scar-"NO! I'm not killing him! I would be exiled."
Chike-"Then we'll blame the death on another lion. And I'll kill him."
Scar(Evil now)-"Perfect."
Simba was shocked. Scar was nice back then, and now all thanks to Chike, he was evil. Simba wanted to tell his father, but he wouldn't be heard. Simba saw the sun start to rise and he didn't know that time went so fast. He rushed to find his brother and Adia playing.
Kion-"Hey Adia, who's that lion with the brown mane?"
Adia-"My father, his name is Chike."
Kion-"Is that why you have a nose like uncle Scar?"
Adia-"I guess. My mom says he's the nice lion she'd met."
Kion-"Heh, kinda like my father and mother."
Adia-"Yea."
Simba smiled. Kion really did look like their father. And that meant he always would be there for him, or at least he thought. Plus the memories aren't that painful or strong, he wouldn't want to die. Rafiki was worried about nothing. Simba watched his brother play and soon their father came to get them....and that was it for that memory.
\-------------
Kiara and Kion watched the sun go down, Rafiki didn't them much. All he told them was that thier father was out at another kingdom helping. Nala was coming out of the cave with a smile, and watched her cubs. Kion yawned and went back in the cave, Kiara soon followed. Nala looked up at the sky and sighed. Her father would've been proud and happy to have grandcubs. Her mother was very happy.
Nala-'Father, wherever you are, please look after Simba.'
Kion-"Mom?"
Nala-"Yes Kion?"
Kion-"When will dad be back?"
Nala-"I don't know. Hopefully soon."
Kion-"Okay."
The two went back inside, not knowing that Rafiki was watching them talk. He felt bad for lying to the family, but it needed to be done. Soon, Simba would return hopefully. The future was still unknown. |
877cd62ec6524317908e65089c93a9b6 | ['17e4e9a9040644c0bd2cd4fc75a9e7c0'] | When you spend half your time in another person’s mind, you get to know them fairly well. Martin could tell when Jefferson was upset. As both of them were oft saying, they have a freaking psychic connection. (Not exactly true, not exactly that. Not the point).
Jefferson was upset. Quiet, closed off. Making an effort to mute his emotions, hide them from Martin. They never hid anything from each other, it was objectively impossible. Jefferson was hiding, not just emotionally but physically. Rather quickly, Martin found his other half buried in the depth of the Waverider’s heart, almost hidden from sight under a complex structure of pipes.
“Jefferson,” Martin said, out of manners rather than introduction. They didn’t need words to know the other was there. (Nor sound, nor sight, nor… you get the point).
“Hmphh. Grey.”
“You know why I’m here.”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Jefferson, there is no point in hiding!”
“Hmphhh.”
“Jefferson, please.”
Finally, the younger man emerged from hiding. Weary and sweat streaked, Jefferson stood and glared at Martin.
“Fine, if you really want to do this. I just found out my high school boyfriend- person- whatever it was undefined- got married.”
Jax looked uncomfortable at admitting this, which bewildered Martin. He knew his younger half had something of an unlucky streak in love, but what Jefferson was feeling, what Martin also felt, was not jealousy or heartache.
“And?” Jax glared at him, tightly crossing his arms across his chest.
“That’s all, okay? I gotta get back to fixing this.” He started to turn around, but Martin laid a hand on his tense shoulder.
“I think I understand. This young man you are referring to is Jason, is it not?” Jason, Martin had heard of him. Jefferson’s closest friend through childhood. Yet he had never been referred to as Jefferson’s boyfriend. But there it was, the same surge of emotions that accompanied Jason’s name at the mention of this mysterious and now married ex.
Jax closed his eyes, mouth drawn tight.
“Yeah,” he let out a breath, “my mom got the invitation last week.” Martin’s hand was still on his shoulder, warm, there.
“After the explosion, after my time in the hospital, you know how angry I was then. Jason wanted to be by my side, but I pushed him away. I pushed all of them away except my mom. I said stuff I regret, stuff I half meant half didn’t. He never forgave me, I wouldn’t have forgiven me. The invitation was addressed to my mom, from his. Everyone I knew back in Central thinks I moved to Canada. Lord know why Canada of all places, it’s not like my mom said anything. Some rando just assumed Canada. Who the fuck moves to Canada? I…” Jax stopped. He could feel the anger simmering under Martin’s silence.
“Grey?” The older man had a fierce glint in his eyes.
“You did not,” he began, voice low and steely, “you did not deserve that unpardonable behavior, Jefferson. Especially not from the one who claimed to love you.”
(Between them, connected by hand, blood, fire, thought, an ease, a loosening of tightened muscles).
“Thanks, Martin.” The older half removed his hand to adjust his glasses, anger sinking back under his skin.
“I only told you the truth Jefferson. You were in incredible pain and had just experienced a great loss, that sort of trauma can cause a person to say words that they only thought they meant.”
“Still, thanks.”
“Of course.”
The easy and bright trademark Jackson smile eased its way back onto Jax’s face.
“Let’s see what Ray’s made for lunch.”
“After you, Firestorm,” said Martin with a flourish of his hand.
“Thanks, Firestorm.” The pair (the one, the two) left the heart of the ship and walked towards the kitchen in companionable silence. | b36084ae043846aba03f62b272407eaa | ['17e4e9a9040644c0bd2cd4fc75a9e7c0'] | 1. Morning Call
Kendra woke up in a panic. There was a weight on her chest, oh god-
“I made coffee. And a-“
The weight was her awful, no good girlfriend straddling her hips while still wearing her sweat encrusted jogging shorts. And nothing else. Okay, so this wasn’t the worst way to be woken up. Hands moved to a bare waist, and Kate the godawful no good girlfriend smirked.
“Oh see something you like, birdgirl?” she taunted as she let herself sink further into the mattress.
“I heard something about coffee?” replied Kendra, studiously looking only at Kate’s face; two could play at this game.
At that, Kate rocked her body slightly forward eliciting a groan from her trapped girlfriend. She kept leaning forward till her face was flush with Kendra’s, and let her lips graze over her forehead.
“Wanna take this to the shower?” she whispered.
“Fuck you, Bishop.”
“Be my guest, Ms. Saunders.”
The coffee went cold in the kitchen, but Kendra and Kate stayed quite warm.
2. Betting Time
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Kate wins fifty bucks. Clint regrets their friendship.
“Well I just won fifty bucks.”
Clint groaned and pulled the covers over his head, and next to him, Carter looked disinterested as he sipped his tea. Kate felt very pleased with herself.
“There are bets about my sex life?” Clint mumbled from his hiding place.
“Barton, be assured that at any given time there is at least one bet going on about the stupid shit you do. In this case Carter,” she glanced at the shirtless man, “no offense.”
He smirked,
“None taken.”
Clint groaned some more.
“Girly, please stop just waltzing into my room without knocking,” he finally said, pulling his head out of the sheets.
“Hah,” was all Kate had to say to that.
“Kendra around?” asked Carter.
“Yeah, she’s playing with Lucky in the kitchen,” answered Kate. The man put down his drink and slid out of bed to go find Kendra. Clint’s no good, terrible friend let out a long whistle.
Carter hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes.
She gave Barton a not so subtle thumbs up, and turned her head to watch Carter walk out the room.
“Damn.”
“I hate you,” he replied.
“Wait, who did you win fifty from? Please tell me-“
“Wade," she chirped, "it was his life savings!”
Clint looked disappointed, he had been hoping it was Tony.
“Up and adam, stud, we got work to do!”
Clint groaned a bit more, just to get it out of his system before following his partner out to the kitchen. |
0e524f8dbd8c463f8cf82985ecf9304e | ['17e94d14619a4cc498975656b8d252c3'] | Seven hours later, Keith is awoken to the sound of thunder. It takes him a full minute to realize that the sound is not actually coming from outside his window, but his front door. He pulls on a shirt and stumbles out of bed. He smells like a bar.
"I'm coming," he slurs as the person on the other side starts to knock again. He hopes that it's just an impatient, horny-as-fuck Kitamori because he isn't planning on being pleasant for anyone else.
" _What_?" He growls as he opens the door. It's not Kitamori. It's Mook.
"Get dressed. We have to leave. Now," she says bluntly.
"You know, the last time you showed up at my place at this time of night, you were saying the opposite of 'Get dressed'," he slurs.
"Are you drunk?" She hisses.
"It's Saturday night. I can do what I want."
"It's Thursday," Mook corrects him. "Merlin's beard, Bandit! Sober up and get dressed. Pegasus is calling us in."
"What the fuck does Pegasus want with us at two in the fucking morning?" Keith grumbles.
"Something escaped from the Archives," she says and Keith immediately straightens.
"What?" That's impossible. There's down there with a conscience.
"That's not the weirdest part either. No one can remember anything except Cyril Weller - and he isn't talking."
"Why not?"
"He _can't_."
"What the hell happened?" He yells and regrets it as soon as he does. His head is spinning.
"I don't know. But fifteen aurors are in the hospital, the entirety of the Ministry's lobby has been turned into a desert, there's fiendfyre blocking the main entrance, and there are _dragon prints_ outside in plain view of muggles. We have to go. Now."
11. Cause and Effect
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> “I’ll be heading to the Minister’s office. When you’re done here, come find me and we’ll discuss what should and shouldn’t be made public,” the man says and hands Keith several chains with tiny hourglasses attached to them. “Five minute intervals should do it.”
>
> Then Pegasus turns and walks away. Keith looks at his team, “You heard the man. Time-Turners on. Let’s get going.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Disclaimer (1): Yu-gi-oh! Duel Monsters is owned by Kazuki Takahashi, Studio Gallop, Nihon Ad Systems, and TV Tokyo. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Arthur A. Levine Books, and Warner Bros. Please support the official releases.
>
> Disclaimer (2): Army of Darkness is produced by Dino De Laurentis Communications and Renaissance Pictures. The Remington Arms Company, LLC is owned by Remington Outdoors Group and Cerberus Capital Management.
>
> Warning: Mentions of alcoholism.
**Chapter 10: Cause and Effect**
Keith and Mook arrive at the Ministry three minute after he’d put on a shirt. He’s pretty sure that Mook can smell the alcohol on his breath, but she makes no comment and that’s all he can ask for.
Scott stands at the entrance to the Ministry, gazing down into a paw print that is as long as he is tall. Keith silently thanks whoever the Department has in charge of controlling the muggles in the area; there isn’t a single one in sight.
“Report,” Keith barks.
“There was a dragon here,” the Plant answers.
“No shit, Sherlock,” he snaps. “What kind?”
“A European breed. Perhaps a Common Welsh Green,” Scott looks up. “You are intoxicated.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up about it,” Keith growls, ignoring the way Mook tenses up.
“Working under the influence will decrease your proficiency by--”
“Don’t make me order you,” he tells him. Scott’s jaw shuts with a click.
There are a pair of cracks behind them as Lew and Kitamori appear. They jog across the grass to join the group. The five of them move inside of the Ministry and find Coppermine standing in front of a wall of fiendfyre.
“Hey,” he waves as they approach.
“Pete,” Kitamori grins at him, friendly as ever. Keith feels a twinge of jealousy in his stomach and nearly laughs at himself for being ridiculous.
“Y-yeah, so,” Coppermine starts. “We’re gonna have to take a Portkey over - no apparition allowed, you know. Especially with this place still in lockdown.” He leads them over to where a Portkey station has been set up. As a very tired looking Ministry wizard casts a spell over a piece of driftwood, Coppermine continues on, “All of the aurors that were injured in whatever this is are at Buchanan Hospital. From what I’ve heard, most of them just have burns and smoke inhalation and will be fit for duty within the hour. There’s a witch with a broken wand hand. Her partner has a bullet wound in his shoulder--”
“A muggle weapon? But that’s impossible, isn’t it?” Mook frowns. “There are wards that prevent muggle technology from being used--”
“But only if it’s powered by electricity,” Coppermine points out. “Firearms aren’t. They’re all gunpowder and sparks and mechanical stuff.”
“How do you know that?”
“Back in Detroit, most of the werewolves couldn’t afford to buy new clothes, let alone wands. They had to protect their packs somehow between the full moons.”
“Your Portkey,” says the Ministry employee. The driftwood he’s holding looks just as tired as him. Keith reaches out to take out, but the man grabs his wrist first.
“You’re Unspeakables,” he hisses. “What did you… what was in there? What did you unleash?”
“Let go of me,” Keith growls.
“My brother is in the hospital because of you! And I can’t remember why!”
Keith rolls his eyes and wrenches his hand out of the man’s grasp. He steps forward to strike back, but Mook puts a firm hand on his shoulder before he can.
“Bandit,” she warns. | d4c38532f39741dbbf3d71020fc48529 | ['17e94d14619a4cc498975656b8d252c3'] | * Their children:
* Their son, **{HERIUS ZABINI}** ; (1914-1999)
* His wife, {CASSIOPEIA ZABINI nee Black}; (1915-2013)
* Their children:
* Their daughter, {LARTIA ZABINI}; (1938-2010)
* Her brother-husband, Minister of Magic **{CAIUS ZABINI}** ; (1940-2010)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{KAESO ZABINI}** ; (1981-1998)
* His sister-wife, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Their son, **{HARIUS ZABINI** }; (1983-1999)
* His sister-wife, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Their daughter, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{KAESO ZABINI}** ; (1981-1998)
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{HARIUS ZABINI}** ; (1983-1999)
* Her ex-husband, {GALLIO SEANUS}; (1988-2003)
* Her ex-husband, {LUCIUS SEANUS}; (1984-2006)
* Her ex-husband, {TIBERIUS PAPAS}; (1964-2008)
* Her ex-uncle-husband, {AGRIPPA ZABINI}; (1946-2009)
* Her ex-father-husband, Minister of Magic **{CAIUS ZABINI}** ; (1940-2010)
* Her lover, {EDWIN CARTER}; (1985-2000)
* Their child:
* Their bastard child, **BLAISE ZABINI** ; (2001-present)
* Their son, Minister of Magic **{CAIUS ZABINI}** ; (1940-2010)
* His sister-wife, {LARTIA ZABINI}; (1938-2010)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{KAESO ZABINI}** ; (1981-1998)
* His sister-wife, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Their son, **{HARIUS ZABINI** }; (1983-1999)
* His sister-wife, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Their daughter, **VIOLA ZABINI** ; (1985-present)
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{KAESO ZABINI}** ; (1981-1998)
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{HARIUS ZABINI}** ; (1983-1999)
* Her ex-husband, {GALLIO SEANUS}; (1988-2003)
* Her ex-husband, {LUCIUS SEANUS}; (1984-2006)
* Her ex-husband, {TIBERIUS PAPAS}; (1964-2008)
* Her ex-uncle-husband, {AGRIPPA ZABINI}; (1946-2009)
* Her ex-father-husband, Minister of Magic **{CAIUS ZABINI}** ; (1940-2010)
* Her lover, {EDWIN CARTER}; (1985-2000)
* Their child:
* Their bastard child, **BLAISE ZABINI** ; (2001-present)
* Their son, {AGRIPPA ZABINI}; (1946-2009)
* His ex-wife, {FAVONIA ZABINI nee Papas}; (1964-1982)
* Their children:
* Their son, {PAULUS ZABINI}; (1970-2008)
* His sister-wife, {AURIA ZABINI}; (1972-2003)
* Their child:
* Their daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ {ATRONIA ZABINI}; (1998-2013)
* His lover, {LARTIA SILIA}; (1969-1993)
* Their children:
* Their bastard daughter, _Vestal_ {AURIA SILIA}; (1991-2008)
* Their bastard daughter, _Vestal_ (FAVONIA SILIA}; (1993-2006)
* Their daughter, {AURIA ZABINI}; (1972-2003)
* Her brother-husband, {PAULUS ZABINI}; (1970-2008)
* Their child:
* Their daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ {ATRONIA ZABINI}; (1998-2013)
* Their daughter, {SENNIA SIDONIA nee Zabini}; (1926-1953)
* Her husband, {GNAEUS SIDONIA}; (1939-1968)
* For issue, see HOUSE SIDONIA
* Their daughter, {LUSIA SEANUS nee Zabini}; (1931-1988)
* Her husband, {COSSUS SEANUS}; (1969-2008)
* For issue, see HOUSE SEANUS
**House Sidonia**
**{SERVIUS SIDONIA}** ; (1915-1951)
* His wife, {AQUILLA SIDONIA nee Martyria}; (1913-1950)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{GNAEUS SIDONIA}** ; (1939-1968)
* His wife, {SENNIA SIDONIA nee Zabini}; (1926-1953)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{SEPTIMUS SIDONIA}** ; (1945-1990)
* His sister-wife, {CAESONIA SIDONIA}; (1950-1989)
* Their children:
* Their son, Minister of Magic **{TITUS SIDONIA}** ; (1979-2014)
* His wife, {POMPONIA SIDONIA nee Papas}; (1979-1995)
* Their child:
* Their son, Emperor **MARCELLOUS SIDONIA** ; (1995-present)
* His wife, Empress HOLLARIUS SIDONIA nee Hufflepuff; (970-present)
* His victim, {GABINIA FLAVINA nee Sonia}; (1981-2014)
* Their child:
* Their bastard daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ LUCCENIA SONIA; (2000-present)
* Their daughter, {NIGIDIA PAPAS nee Sidonia}; (1948-1996)
* Her husband, DECIMUS PAPAS; (1940-present)
* For issue, see HOUSE PAPAS
* Their daughter, {CAESONIA SIDONIA}; (1950-1989)
* Her brother-husband, **{SEPTIMUS SIDONIA}** ; (1945-1990)
* Their children:
* Their son, Minister of Magic **{TITUS SIDONIA}** ; (1979-2014)
* His wife, {POMPONIA SIDONIA nee Papas}; (1979-1995)
* Their child:
* Their son, Emperor **MARCELLOUS SIDONIA** ; (1995-present)
* His wife, Empress HOLLARIUS SIDONIA nee Hufflepuff; (970-present)
* His victim, {GABINIA FLAVINA nee Sonia}; (1981-2014)
* Their child:
* Their bastard daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ LUCCENIA SONIA; (2000-present)
* Their daughter, {GAVIA PAPAS nee Sidonia}; (1945-1983)
* Her husband, {CANUS PAPAS}, (1911-1972)
* For issue, see HOUSE PAPAS
* Their daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ {VOLUSENNA SIDONIA}; (1950-2009)
**House Seanus**
Minister of Magic **{AGRIPPA SEANUS}** ; (1890-1963)
* His sister-wife, {VELIA SEANUS}; (1874-1930)
* Their child:
* Their daughter, _Vestalis Maxima_ {POMPEIA SEANUS}; (1911-1968)
* Their son, **{GAIUS SEANUS}** ; (1912-1979)
* His wife, {DIDIA SEANUS nee Papas}; (1913-1969)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{LUCIUS SEANUS}** ; (1925-2000)
* His ex-wife, {SESTIA SEANUS nee Augustalis}; (1925-1956)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{VEL SEANUS}** ; (1946-2001)
* His sister-wife, {LAMPRONIA SEANUS}; (1956-2002)
* His lover, {LOREIA CORVINA}; (1950-1968)
* Their children:
* Their bastard son, Legion Commander KAESO CORVINA, (1968-present)
* Their son, **{TIBERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1954-2002)
* His sister-wife, {LAMPRONIA SEANUS}; (1956-2002)
* Their daughter, {LAMPRONIA SEANUS}; (1956-2002)
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{VEL SEANUS}** ; (1946-2001)
* Her husband, **{TIBERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1954-2002)
* His sister-wife, CAESIA SEANUS; (1958-present)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{TERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1983-2003)
* His sister-wife, OTACILIA SEANUS; (1989-present)
* Their daughter, {SOMATIA SEANUS}; (1985-2003)
* Her brother-husband, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* Their son, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* His ex-sister-wife, {SOMATIA SEANUS}; (1985-2003)
* His sister-wife, OTACILIA SEANUS; (1989-present)
* Their daughter, OTACILIA SEANUS
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{TERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1983-2003)
* Her brother-husband, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* Their son, {COSSUS SEANUS}; (1969-2008)
* His wife, {LUSIA SEANUS nee Zabini}; (1931-1988)
* Their children:
* Their son, {LUCIUS SEANUS}; (1984-2006)
* His wife, VIOLA ZABINI; (1985-present)
* Their son, {GALLIO SEANUS}; (1988-2003)
* His wife, VIOLA ZABINI; (1985-present)
* Their daughter, CAESIA SEANUS; (1958-present)
* * Her brother-husband, **{LUCIUS SEANUS}** ; (1925-2000)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{TERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1983-2003)
* His sister-wife, OTACILIA SEANUS; (1989-present)
* Their daughter, {SOMATIA SEANUS}; (1985-2003)
* Her brother-husband, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* Their son, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* His ex-sister-wife, {SOMATIA SEANUS}; (1985-2003)
* His sister-wife, OTACILIA SEANUS; (1989-present)
* Their daughter, OTACILIA SEANUS
* Her ex-brother-husband, **{TERIUS SEANUS}** ; (1983-2003)
* Her brother-husband, **QUINTUS SEANUS** ; (1987-present)
* Their daughter, _Vestal_ {ATRONIA SEANUS}; (1920-1982)
**House Papas**
**{DECIMUS PAPAS}** ; (1900-1958)
* His wife, {ACILIA PAPAS nee Serrana}; (1899-1950)
* Their children:
* Their son, **{CANUS PAPAS}** ; (1911-1972)
* His wife, {GAVIA PAPAS nee Sidonia}; (1935-1983)
* Their children:
* Their son, **DECIMUS PAPAS** ; (1940-present)
* His wife, {NIGIDIA PAPAS nee Sidonia}; (1948-1996)
* Their children: |
64c510ab9f3149308df7af953e96bfa9 | ['17f326c659a64b799bc7f1f2c04be230'] | An Invitation
Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time.
* * *
Belle turned the engraved party invitation over in her hands, thinking. This, she decided, would take no small bit of doing.
-
Paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. Even with the curse being lifted, people still felt the need to send him rent, and still felt the need to come to him with their problems. A world without magic hadn’t changed that, merely made him more…accessible. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Rumple?”
Reflexively, he smiled. The one bright spot in an otherwise long and occasionally boring existence. “Yes, dear?”
“I need to ask you about something.”
What could the woman want now? “Then maybe you should ask, instead of making a crotchety old man wait.”
Her face peeked out from behind the office doors. “I don’t want you to say no.”
He felt the creeping edge of dread. “If this is about the magic-“
“Not that, silly. We’ve been over that.” She made a face at him. “Just…come out. Will you?”
He shuffled his papers and got up slowly, leaning on his cane for effect. “If you insist.”
“I do.” And the pixie-woman disappeared.
Beyond the door, there was nothing unusual, except an envelope on the coffee table. Belle was sitting on the sofa, beaming. “Open it.”
“And this couldn’t have been done at my desk?” he groused, but opened it. And looked up. “Out of the question.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Belle said calmly. “Your paperwork wasn’t more pressing than me, it isn’t more pressing than this.”
“It is a party full of people who want nothing to do with me, and I am sure I want nothing to do with them.” The minx. Some days, he thought her half-possessed.
“And that’s not what I heard you saying to Regina the other day.”
He hadn’t known she’d been there. “That’s not what I said.”
“Nonsense.” Belle folded her hands in her lap, primly. “You pointed out most unkindly that none of the people she’d attempted to murder and hunt down wanted to invite her to dinner, while neglecting to point out that none of them had invited you, either.” She gestured to the invitation. “This is your opportunity. Be an honored guest, instead of a skeleton at the feast.” She poked him, then. “You’re all skin and bones, anyways. It’ll do you some good to get out and eat some of Granny’s cooking.”
Rumplestiltskin knew he had agreed the moment he had set foot out of his office. “I am not skin and bones.”
“You are,” she said tartly, but not without some amusement. “I don’t believe you’ve been feeding yourself properly since I left. You don’t have magic as a fallback anymore, Rumplestiltskin, you can’t do that to yourself.”
He exhaled. “I’ll go, if you go.”
“Pick me up at seven,” Belle said promptly, leaning back into the sofa’s cushions. “And while we’re here, now?” | 357fdada281e4287a23721bc61a5cf6f | ['17f326c659a64b799bc7f1f2c04be230'] | Mal runs out of the hallway – man musta been working on one of the smuggling spots – down the stairs, and jumps to the infirmary. “I didn’t give you permission to get pregnant.”
“No, sir.” And gorram it all, she can’t stop the smile on her face.
-
It astounds her, how happy she feels. There’s still an ache. Wash should be here, Wash should see his child, Wash should be able to make mistakes and love and celebrate with her. Wash should be alive. But this way, there’s a part of him that lives on. Something he helped make. Something alive, not dead, for once.
Tonight’s for laughter and planning with Kaylee and Inara and River. Later’s for tears.
-
“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this, Wash. A child, in this world? I’ve gotta be some kind of crazy.”
“I know I married you. But that was something different.”
“I want this child. I want it so much, baby. And it won’t be as hard as it could be. I’ve got everybody here. But I’m still gonna be raising this child alone. I still miss you, Wash. I’m never going to stop.”
The silence answers back no questions.
-
It should feel stranger, to hold some small body inside your stomach. But there it is. Some days she holds its existence on faith, and hems maternity clothes. Other days she bends over the pull-out toilet and wonders why the kid has to put her through so much trouble before it’s even born.
Inara’s taken her place as second in the field. The Alliance has destroyed her career, but she still has usable skills. Zoe’s not going to be eligible for combat until this kid’s well and fully grown. She’ll raise it on a starship. She won’t risk the pea’s only parent any more than that.
So now she’s first mate, and second pilot, and one of her jobs is to keep herself safe. She does the math twice over, and she looks for jobs. She keeps herself occupied and the ship clean. Basically, she does most everything she did before, only more so. It’ll be harder once the baby comes.
-
There is some friction between Jayne and Inara and Mal – Jayne being a _pi gu_ and Inara and Mal being whatever they are to each other. Zoe doesn’t ask questions she doesn’t want to know the answers to. But they get over it, and Zoe sends River on enough missions with them that they finally get some sorta sense beaten into them. And Inara’s as good as she is at sizing up a situation and finding a conclusive solution. So there’s that.
“It’s not so easy, is it,” says Simon, with two cups of steaming tea. Kaylee musta kicked him out for some reason or another. They like to take advantage of the privacy when the others are out on mission, especially after that one time they caught River being River.
The tea is good, though, and she can afford to let her observation pass unspoken. The doc still has all of his upperclass modesty. “What’s not so easy?”
“Having to stay behind.” He stares at his tea, and grips the handle. “It’s hard enough for me just letting go of River. I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be harder for you to stop going out there. To stop being a soldier.”
It’s an interesting comment to make. But Simon doesn’t know her well. Now seems like a good opportunity. “Soldiering is a mindset, not a job. Could you stop being a doctor even if you don’t get paid for it?”
Simon smiles ruefully. “Well, I lost my license when I took River, so I suppose the answer’s no. I could never unlearn those skills.”
Zoe looks at him – all pale and skinny, from his head to his delicate doctor’s hands. She makes a decision. “You wanna learn a new skillset, doc?”
“Ah. What kind of skillset?”
She leans back. “Anyone ever taught you to shoot a gun?”
“I took the Hippocratic Oath, Zoe. I can’t break that.”
“Sure. Until you find you can save somebody’s life by shooting some bad people. Or why else did you come with us to rescue the Captain from Niska?” She switches the radio to broadcast to all speakers, then stands with her mug of tea. “C’mon, doc. It won’t bite.”
-
There was once a man that Zoe loved. He wasn’t the bravest or the smartest or the cleverest. She could’ve beaten him in an arm-wrestling contest any day of the week. But he was hers, and she was his, and that was enough. What they had, they had, and now it isn’t anymore.
Well? And who can’t say that, these days?
She’ll keep flying. |
e0b1331116e74a77b09a9e94b6e7a271 | ['180692979cf4439dbb22ab478610a2bd'] | Evelyn didn’t feel the need to pressure Leliana to talk, not like all the previous times Evelyn pestered Leliana to tell her a story. This was different.
“When I was a child,” Leliana started, still gazing towards the distant horizon, “I fell in love with the stories of heroes, adventure, romance, the whole spectacle of it. I was very much like you Inquisitor.”
“What changed?” Evelyn asked, keeping her voice polite and reserved.
“Life did. I grew up and learned life was not always like the stories I had read. Still, I couldn’t help but keep on believing in them. When Aayilah came, she brought my love of stories back and in the process, stole my heart. I have much to thank my love.” Leliana looked down at something her back obscured.
Leliana rotated to face Evelyn, resting her back against the stone railing. A beautiful white-gold necklace hung around Leliana’s neck. At the end of the chain was a gold ring with dark blue stripes. Leliana absent-mindely twirled it around her hand. She grinned at Eveyln, a real genuine smile.
“It’s beautiful,” Evelyn noted, pointing to the ring.
Leliana wrapped her slender fingers around the ring, melancholy in her eyes. “It is. A gift from my wife.” The revelation caused Evelyn to push herself off the archway in shock.
“Your wife?” Evelyn exclaimed, her eyes widening. “Oh I guess I didn’t realize, for some reason -, but it makes sense. Congrats,” Evelyn meekly finished.
Leliana chuckled. “Yes it is a secret I keep close to my heart. I trust you will keep it a secret as well, yes?” Leliana assumed the serious, dark look that Evelyn had grown used too. Evelyn wagered that the look was mostly a joke.
“I will. I promise,” Evelyn swore. Leliana nodded in approval.
Leliana tucked the necklace back under her chainmail and shirt. “I am telling you this because I want you to know that I have much to thank you for as well.”
“Thank me for? I mean I appreciate it, but I don’t think -” An irritated glance from Leliana shut Evelyn up. Pursing her lips, Evelyn waited to fully hear Leliana out.
When Leliana was sure that Evelyn would not interrupt further, Leliana continued. “When Aayilah left, I buried myself into my duties, thinking it would be enough to distract me from the absence of my love. But it didn’t. It made me cold and cruel, even towards the people closest to me.” Leliana paused, staring meaningfully at Evelyn.
“Thank you for being patient with me and,” Leliana paused once again, clearing her throat. “Thank you for forcing me to tell you stories of my love. It brought my love back to me, even if only temporarily. I needed it, more than I realized.” Leliana spoke with the same vulnerability as the day Evelyn brought up resenting the Hero of Ferelden.
“I hope my many stories managed to convey the wealth of compassion and kindness my love possess.” Evelyn nodded in confirmation. “I thought in order to do my job, I had to become cruel and refuse to follow my heart. I knew my love wouldn’t approve, but I felt as if I had no choice but to betray her. Her voice was always in the back of my head, always disappointed in the mercilessness I showed. I regretfully ignored it for far too long,” Leliana said, shifting in place, clearly uncomfortable. “But because of you, I realized there is always a choice. You showed me that in Valence. I know now I shouldn’t ignore my heart. Mercy is not always a weakness. That is more clear to me now than ever.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Evelyn tried her best to hide the tears of happiness on the edges of her eyes. This was everything she had been trying to work towards since her first conversation with Leliana. “Can I hug you?” Evelyn abruptly asked.
“Hug me?”
Evelyn looked away from Leliana in shame. “F -” Evelyn was cut off by the gentle arms of Leliana wrapping around her. Once the shock wore away, Evelyn returned the hug. Closing her eyes, Evelyn rested her head on Leliana’s shoulder, tears effortlessly flowing down her face. A gentle breeze blew in Leliana and her direction. It was nice.
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading! Next story will probably either be centered on the Warden once again (this time in a less life and death situation) | 1426bec5ea974dc88839b9b069319150 | ['180692979cf4439dbb22ab478610a2bd'] | “Oh, did she now?” Aayilah said, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you sure she isn’t just my replacement? I mean we’re both mages and pretty fam-
“No! It’s no - noth - Evely - no…” Cullen sputtered haplessly. His face was becoming increasingly warm.
Aayilah bent forward, clutching her sides as she cried from laughter. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, in-between fits of laughter, “but your face. By the Maker, it was adorable!”
Cullen was too deeply embarrassed to pretend to be angry at her. In fact, he found her teasing slightly funny, not that he would admit it. He sighed, sulking as he waited for Aayilah to calm down.
It took far longer than he wanted, but when she finally did, she stated thoughtfully, “You really like her.”
Cullen simply nodded. He already wasn’t the best when it came to words, not like Josephine or even Aayilah, but he definitely knew that there weren’t words that could describe what Evelyn meant to him.
“I’m happy for you Cullen. You deserve it.” Deserve was a strong word. He didn’t think that was the case. But he definitely didn’t miss the irony of ending up with a mage. A few years ago, Cullen would have been aghast at the notion. But now he was simply happy that a mage could look past his crimes. _ Two mages, _ Cullen noted, his eyes darting at Aayilah.
_ Mages cannot be treated like people; they’re not like you and me. They’re _ ** _weapons_ ** _ , _ Cullen had once told the Champion of Kirkwall. It was so easy to believe that, with how Thedas treated mages. They were stolen from their families at a young age and confined into narrow tight corridors where their every move was watched. The minute they stepped out of line, they would either be killed or made tranquil. But maybe that was why Evelyn and Aayilah could look beyond his past. They were good people who had been ostracized and feared their entire lives, so they would never willingly force those emotions on anyone else. Mages should have never had to experience that in the first place. They were humans and elves, just like everyone us.
“This probably isn’t the best time to bring this up, but I found him,” Aayilah said, breaking the comforting silence between the two. Her head was tilted down, her silver bangs covering her eyes. She seemed more sheepish than usual.
“Found who?”
“Anders.”
Cullen froze in place. Of all the names, she could have said, he would have never predicted that one. He gave her utterly baffled expression. “What? How? Did -”
“Cullen,” Aayilah interrupted, her voice growing as serious as her speech earlier, “I’m telling you this because you are my friend and that you deserve to know, since you were at Kirkwall. But also as my friend, I am trusting you to not tell anyone. I know what he did was wrong,” Aayilah sighed, the type that seemed like she was angry with herself. “But I - he’s my friend. I can’t turn him in.” She was begging at this point, Cullen realized.
He looked into her eyes, Aayilah could probably see the uncertainty in his eyes. “What about those who died? Don’t they deserve justice?”
Aayilah hid her eyes behind her bangs again. “I know, but his death won’t and can’t bring them justice. It’s been too long and too much has changed.”
_ Because of Anders _ , Cullen thought. But was that even true? A Mage Rebellion had been stirring for years, it was inevitable that it would all blow over one day.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but please trust me. He won’t harm anyone else,” Aayilah begged.
“Ok,” Cullen agreed. Aayilah snapped her head up, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Ok?” she asked as if she wasn’t sure he actually meant what he said.
“I trust you,” Cullen explained. “We’re friends.” He was equally honored to call the Hero of Ferelden his friend. He didn’t know if he deserved her friendship, but he was going to try to live up to it. _ Be better _ , her words echoed in his mind. He would do that.
“Thank you,” Aayilah said, smiling light-heartedly at him.
He shook his head. “Thank you for believing I’ve changed.”
The two friends continued talking, drinking and of course, laughing well into the dead of night. They wouldn’t stop until the morning embers of the sun peered into the Herald’s Rest.
**Author's Note:**
> Above Quote is from Lion King
>
> I love Cullen! He's one of my favorite characters in all of Dragon Age, because of the journey he went through in all three games. I can't not want him to just be happy. I hope he plays a part in DA4.
Also, this an Spiritual Sequel to my other work, "Memories of the Ferelden Circle," but definitely not required to understand this story.
Thanks for reading! |
2c9589ef6adb44fe92a2037d173b9643 | ['1807cb407717489695e5d06e8236abc2'] |
Tyler Durden Is Asleep In The Room Across From Mine
**Author's Note:**
> So this is as PWP as it gets lol. Enjoy.
>
> 'Jack' is used as the Narrators name and Jack doesnt know that him and Tyler are the same person yet.
Jack's back hurt from the shitty bed, the shitty mattress, the shitty springs. The water that dripped endlessly by his right ear kept its pace, seemingly infinite; unlike Jack's sanity.
His eyes were as wide as they could be. He was awake. Tyler Durden was asleep.
Jack's left hand stretched up to his eye, rubbing at it until it became raw. Irritated. It was the only sensation he could feel other than the pain. Other than the slow passing of time around him.
His red eye circled the room frantically, looking for anything to catch on.
Jack's mind is running.
*A man in a tailored suit crashes through the front wall of his room. He's in slow motion, with an explosion going off behind him. He has two 9mm pistols in each hand. Rubble flies around him. He's a badass.*
*A girl sits in the corner to the left of him, far away. Shes wearing all black and she's crying; rocking forward and backward in the fetal position. Her head lifts slowly, revealing her dead eyes her large pointed teeth*.
*A woman walks through the door, dressed in white lace. See-through. Her steps are feeble but delicate. Beautiful. Her breasts are visible through her dress, as well as her dark pubic hair. She dances around Jack's room, singing a lullaby.*
Jack feels like his eyes are going to roll back into his head, and Tyler Durden is sleeping in the room across from his.
Jack can feel every gust of wind that finds its way through the cracks in the old wood, they keep him up. Mix that with the water dripping next to him, he would sometimes get a few drops landing on his face, or his arm. Cold as hell. Annoying as hell.
Jack can also feel the warmth of his blanket over him. The only comfort he gets in this house is when his blanket is pulled up to his neck and he is laying on his left side with his legs curled towards his stomach, on the brink of sleep.
And so he was. Except not the sleep part. In fact he didn't really know why he was so awake. Maybe it was the seven cups of coffee he'd had that morning. Or maybe it was the gash that had been taken out of his right side from a knarly scratch during Fight Club last Sunday. Who knows. Not Jack; and not Tyler Durden.
Jack's mind wandered as it always did. His left eye was fine now, but there was something else bothering him. A feeling. In his stomach, or rather, in his gut. To describe it would be futile. Maybe a yearning. An attempt at escape.
Fighting.
Jack's insides were fighting.
He hadn't jacked off since he'd gotten here, and that was a while ago. Fight Club made up for it. It gave him the release he needed. Jack forgot about his dick.
Jack's dick is sad.
Jack wants to help his dick be happy again.
A meager hand, tired from a days work makes its way to Jack's stomach. He lays it there for a minute, feeling the ba-dump ba-dump of his heart. He slides his finger under the hem of his briefs, feeling the radius of heat emanating from his dick.
Jack can tell he needs it. He's surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner.
The first of Jack's fingers reach his dick, and the release of a weight from his shoulders is immediate. He lets a small breath escape his mouth as he cricles his entire palm around the shaft.
He's completely dry and uncomfortable, but his hand pushes the taut foreskin down, bunching it up around the bottom before stretching it out again until it reaches the tippity top.
It feels good. Jack feels a kick in his gut like a pregnant woman. His mouth finds itself slack and open. His hand is moving at a slow pace. Approximately forty beats per minute.
Enough to give him satisfaction.
Even now Jack's thoughts roam. The boobs of a porn actress he'd seen in a magazine the other day. The ass of a girl he watched walk down the street that morning. The moaning of a girl from a porno he'd watched religiously, many years ago.
Tyler Durden.
Asleep in the room across from his.
"Pick up the pace."
Jack's hand moved quicker now. Forty-five beats per minute. His heart rate increases, and his elbow is hitting the gash on his right side with every move. The pain runs through his body like a catalyst, making him move faster.
Jack's eyes close as he feels the sensation of his movements. His.
Jack couldn't feel his hand moving.
Jack didn't open his eyes. He wouldn't.
He moaned as his hand flicked over the exposed tip of his dick.
"If you can't do it yourself I'll do it for you."
Tyler Durden was asleep in the room across from his.
Tyler Durden's hand was sliding over his dick.
Next: to his stomach. Tyler's fingers drag over his nipples and Jack's eyebrows knit together as he concentrates.
That girl's hot ass.
Tyler's hot breath on his neck.
Tyler's nails down his side.
Tyler Durden is asleep in the room across from his; and Jack is going to cum with Tyler's hand around his dick.
Jack turned from his left side onto his back. His eyes are still closed. His left arms is asleep now.
A weight lowers itself down on top of him. There is a leg on either side of his hip.
Jack opens his eyes.
Tyler Durden is most definitely not asleep in the room across from his. | 6d4432b9129244f9810c161121e9f9df | ['1807cb407717489695e5d06e8236abc2'] | Charlie started to move with Mac's pushes, fluxing his lips, squeezing them shut sometimes, and other times leaving them to ghost over Mac's tip as he gets pulled back; it felt good to be manhandled, to not have control over when he took a breath or when or how he would time his strokes. Mac's hand tightened a bit in Charlie's hair as Charlie used his tongue more, allowing it to roam free over the side of Mac's cock, twisting around the shaft as his head was yanked up and pushed down fervently.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum man."
Mac's voice was rough and full of lust. Charlie finally made a move to stop Mac, and Mac was resistant, but he let the man stop him, not wanting this to turn into anything more illegal than what it already was (well, bible wise).
"What? What's up?"
Mac's voice was breathy and sexy and Charlie motioned for the man to stand up. Moving back a little to allow room for him to stand, Charlie opened his mouth wide, tonsils pulsing hard in the back of his throat. Mac's eyes were filled with uncertainty at first, but they lidded over with lust almost immediately after realizing what Charlie was asking him to do. He took his cock in his hand, spit sliding down the base of it. It was slicked with enough of it that he could easily run his hand up and down the hard shaft, eyes locked (finally) with Charlie's blue ones.
Mac's breath started to come out in smaller, faster intervals with every pump of his cock. Charlie could tell Mac was close, his eyes were almost shut as he looked down at Charlie, who had only just decided to stick his tongue out too, letting his head sway forward a bit. By the time Charlie's tongue pushed at the slit of Mac's dick, he was panting like a mess and exclaiming profanity's into the wind.
"Ohhh, fuck Char I'm gonna' fucking cum."
Mac's voice was as low and lustful as Charlie had ever heard it; he loved it. Mac's hand flew back to Charlie's hair at this exact moment, pulling at it so that the man's face was more clearly viewed, mouth hanging open wantonly with his tongue sticking out, ready to catch any cum that came out of Mac's cock. God that was so fucking hot. Mac's face scrunched up as he gave his cock slow, hard pumps now, cum flying out of the tip at random intervals as Charlie jumped with every new piece that hit him. It landed in his mouth, on his cheek and on his forehead - and Mac was done.
He was panting like a mess and his hands were running through his messy hair. What Charlie wanted to do was stand and allow Mac to taste his own cum in Charlie's mouth. But he knew that wasn't going to be an option. There were boundaries, of course; but he still stood, risking a glance at Mac, who's chest was rising and falling wildly.
'That- That was hot, Charlie, thanks." He muttered, reaching down to pull his pants back up.
While he wasn't looking, Charlie risked a lick of Mac's cum off of his top lip. "Yeah, no problem, dude." |
527a7e810005400180c3fb7751424d9b | ['180c1163b450489d982b1a14a1e60c70'] |
Seasoned Gay
**Author's Note:**
> My take on a (sadly) common occurrence at gay bars. I went with the higher rating cause I feel like it was borderline T-Rated but didn't want to risk it.
>
> Oh and for everyone that wished me luck at my hearing yesterday, thank you! My name's been changed! :D
>
> Anyways, onto the story, hope you enjoy.
It’s Friday and Maggie is more than happy to spend the evening holed up in one of the local gay bars drinking scotch and enjoying the feeling of scantily clothed women pressing around her on the dance floor, feeling the pulsing music around her as she danced somewhat jerkily with some blonde girl that she’d bumped into shortly after making her way onto the dance floor, happily letting the rest of the week fall away.
Or it would be if she could focus on the girl in front of her (and how she was gonna get her home) and not the beautiful red head sitting slouched at the bar, cradling her drink in her hands and scanning the bar with a look of nervous excitement plastered across her face. _ Definitely a baby gay… And a cute one at that… And… That’s a dude… _
She watched as one of the straight guys that hung around the bar trying to pick up chicks approached the girl and started trying to talk her up. Maggie felt her body tense and she looked between her dancing partner and the girl at the bar and made a split second decision.
“Gotta go save the baby gay at the bar, dudebro’s hitting on her and she doesn’t seem to know what to do.” The blonde glanced towards the bar and after catching sight of the scene in front of her she scowled and shook her head.
“You have fun with that, try not to break his nose, I know it’s tempting.” And the girl’s already turned around and found some other girl to dance with and Maggie’s making her way towards the bar where the girl is leaning as far away from stereotypical surfer playboy as physically possible. Maggie got to the bar just in time to catch the tail end of what he was saying.
“...And I know I can show you a better time than any of these bull dykes could ever dream of. I’m pretty well endowed if you catch my drift.” He winked and none to discreetly pawed at his junk, causing both Maggie and the red head to scrunch their noses up in disgust at him.
“Yeah, I’m still good.” The other woman downed her shot and signaled the bartender for another one. The guy leered at her and scooted his stool closer to his so that their knees were touching as he moved his hand onto the girl’s thigh.
“Come on babe, seriously I’ll show you a better time than any dyke in this bar could possibly imagine.” Maggie half groaned before firmly inserting herself between the two, knocking the guy’s hand any and forcing him to pull back from the other woman.
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m fairly certain the lady already said no so if you’d kindly move along…” Maggie left the sentence hanging but makes sure to level her gaze at him so he wouldn’t take it as a sign of her feeling intimidated by him. He sneered down at her and tried unsuccessfully to brush her aside.
“Fuck off, she was just about to come home with me, weren’t you hot stuff?” Maggie glances behind her just in time to catch the girl roll her eyes at his question and take a long drink of her beer (the bartender still hadn’t refilled her shot glass).
“Yeah, only in your dreams.” Maggie gently reached behind her and placed a hand on the girl’s knee, she wasn’t sure how much of her couldn’t care less attitude was simply a front to make the guy leave her alone and she figured the comforting gesture might be appreciated.
“See? Now go find someone else to bother, fucking buzzkill.” The guy tried to move around her but Maggie stayed firmly in place between him and the girl (whose name she probably should figure out).
“And you’ve got one of the worst cases of selective hearing I’ve ever seen. Now why don’t you run back to your friends the lick your wounds and try hitting up a bar where the girls actually find your oppressive masculinity attractive and leave us all alone.” The guy scoffed and tried (for the third time) and failed to get her to move from between him and the other woman.
“You’re just jealous she’d rather go home with a real man like me instead of a midget like you. She knows I can fuck her real good, unlike you you little dyke, don’t you baby?” Maggie winced internally at the jib at her height, something she was still self conscious about even at the age of twenty two. She felt the woman behind her shift and somewhat tentatively run her fingers up her side, causing an unexpected shiver to run down Maggie’s spine.
“Oh no… She’s… Definitely the one I’m interested in.” He sputtered, finally hearing something she said for once. _ About time… _
“Why the hell would you be into the tiny lesbo over me? Have you seen my abs?” He lifts his shirt to show off what to most might seem like an impressive six pack, Maggie rolled her eyes but decided she wasn’t going to stoop to his level trying to engage in some display of dominance. The other woman scoffed out loud and glancing behind her Maggie realized that apparently she didn’t have any issues showing the guy up, cause her shirt was tugged up to just below her breasts and was showing off her own six pack with a challenging gleam in her own eyes. | be80d11deec94a2bbb7d8ac54913ad08 | ['180c1163b450489d982b1a14a1e60c70'] | “Where’re we going?” She asked tentatively, pulling the helmet on and gazing up at Alex from behind the visor, her eyes guarded, trying desperately to hide a somewhat hopeful glimmer that had appeared in them. Alex put on her own helmet before gently knocking their covered foreheads together.
“We are going to go grab some burgers and then we’re going to go down to the boardwalk and we’re going to eat our burgers and talk.” Maggie’s eyes widened and she stiffened and Alex immediately backtracked. “Not like that. Okay? We can talk about anything you want to okay? We can talk about that gun you keep trying to get your department to upgrade to or we can talk about your tiny tree collection or we can talk about the weather. Or we don’t have to talk at all, I’ll just hold you and we can watch the water all night if that’s what you need. Okay, Babygirl?” And Maggie nodded slightly before Alex climbed on the bike, Maggie following a couple seconds later, wrapping her arms carefully around Alex’s waist, leaving as much space between them as she could. But Alex quickly pulled her tighter against her back, making sure her arms were wrapped snugly around her waist before revving the engine and backing out of the garage and into the late evening traffic.
_ ~Sanvers~ _
Alex sat up against one of the many wooden poles sticking up out of the boardwalk. Maggie was nestled securely in her side, Alex having an arm slung around her shoulders to help keep her warm against the slight chill that’s in the air. Neither had spoken since arriving and the air was thick with unspoken words, not uncomfortably so, but the feeling still clung to them nonetheless. Alex took a sizable bite out of her burger as she gazed absent-mindedly out over the bay. Maggie shifted after a couple of minutes and glancing down Alex found her girlfriend staring up at her, a question burning in her eyes.
“Yeah?” Maggie blinked and bit her lip before responding.
“Why’re you here, Al? Most people… Hell, anyone else would have let me leave…” Alex tightened her grip around Maggie’s shoulders, pulling her closer.
“Because I care about you, Mags.” Alex pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her even closer until she was practically sitting in her lap. They lapsed back into silence while Alex began to gently run her finger through Maggie’s hair. Several minutes passed before she spoke again.
“When… When my father kicked me out I was devastated… I’d spent fourteen years being told that no matter what happened, he’d always love and support me… That no matter what stupid shit I might do I’d always be loved… And that went down the drain when he found out. He didn’t even try… When… When I got home from school, he was already furious, he broke my arm with a hot frying pan and left me with several serious oil burns along my side…” Alex couldn’t stop the tiny gasp that escaped her, she’d seen those burns several times, she’d touched and kissed and worshipped them alongside every other scar on her body. Maggie didn’t seem to notice Alex’s realization as she just continued on. “...Afterwards he gave me fifteen minutes to get my stuff, told me he never wanted to see me again… And if he did, he’d do a hell of a lot worse than a broken arm… I lived out in the woods for a couple of weeks before my aunt found me, I was about frozen to death, spent a week in the hospital getting pumped full of fluids and nutritional supplements while going through a set of antibiotics cause the burns got infected. Doctors said if I’d gotten there even two hours later I’d have probably died… I used to wish I had you know? I figured I should be dead, I mean… How could I be worth keeping around, be worth taking up a place in society… If my own family didn’t want anything to do with me…” Alex’s eyes had grown wide and she’d stopped breathing as she watched Maggie trying to nonchalantly tell her she had almost died as a teen after being outed.
“Mags… I…” Maggie shrugged her off.
“I mean… Plenty of other kids had it worse… It’s not like mine was that bad.” Alex took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves, but it only served to kindle the burning hatred that was slowly blossoming in her chest. And Alex pushed away from the pole she was leaning against, flipping them over so she was straddling Maggie’s thighs, pointedly ignoring the brief shocked gasp that came from the shorter woman as she gently cradled her face in her hands.
“Maggie… Just because someone went through something worse than you doesn’t mean your trauma was any less impactful, that you can’t feel the same or even more negative emotions from it than someone who went through something considered worse. Your emotions and reactions to them are just as valid as anyone else’s.” Alex wrapped her arms tightly around Maggie and held her close as the other woman seemed to finally fall apart beneath her, Alex felt as silent sobs tore through her girlfriend’s body as she quickly repositioned them so Maggie was once again curled up in her side. “There you go, Baby. I’ve got you.” Alex whispered gently in her ear as she rocked them slowly back and forth on the pier, running her fingers soothingly through Maggie’s hair. After several minutes of just sitting there, Maggie finally started to calm down again, her breathing coming back to something normal and her sobs dissipating.
“I’m sorry, Alex.” She mumbled, just barely loud enough for Alex to hear and quickly shush her. |
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