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3923d608153f487da38d849ea521fbd4 | ['20f0551c8e9644f09cdae26b37875977'] | His mother nodded and stood up. 'Yes, by the time the teachers arrived with help at the hole you fell into, you were found unconscious at the bottom of the hole. It took some time to get your body out of the hole because you were knocked out. And I am still wondering why you even collasped. I am super duper sure you were born healthly, and your father said he tested his sperm and blood for any diseases and other germs. Or maybe he lied...' His mother rambled at a rapid speed, until someone walked in.
'Kushina, you need to breathe or you will suffocate on your tongue!' The stranger said chuckling, identified as Senju Tsunade.
Tsunade was a blonde woman in her late forties and known for being a great doctor pretty much everywhere. She was a good friend of the family and even delivered Naruto at his birth. The blonde doctor also had a reputation of being short tempered (don't tell her) and having bad luck at gambling.
'Oh, Tsunade! Did you get any details of my baby's condition?' Kushina turned around immediatly at the sight of the blonde doctor's statement, she could hear Naruto moaning at his mother's nickname for him.
Tsunade ignored the young teen and shudded her head. 'Not really.. We didn't found any clues about Naruto collapsing down the hole, but I suspect that it was just some slight oxygen deficiency because the air hole was not really big and his panicked state of falling down so hard.' She looked at the red head and her son.
Kushina nodded too. 'Yes, I think I get that! But what I don't get is why no one stayed with my son while someone else went to get help!' Not noticing her son shrinking a little bit back into the white hospital sheets.
'That's something I wondered too...' The doctor said thoughtfully. 'But anyway, since Naruto is awake we can run some tests to make sure he is healthly and to see if he can go home!'
After some little tests the young blonde was deemed fit enough to leave the hospital and go home. Before they left Tsunade assigned some medicine and some eating advice. The trip home was a quiet one, except that Kushina kept fussing over him while driving the car, almost hitting a stray dog because she didn't kept her eyes on the road.
When they got home his mother immediatly put him in bed and cooked up some soup, which he ate up very quickly when he realized he was very hungry.
When his mother left his room he began to feel tired and drifted into a deep sleep of unconsciousness.
However he did not fall asleep when he heard a drip. He quickly opened his eyes, wondering if there was a leak in his room. But when he looked around he was not in his bedroom, but it looked like a sewer and it was leaking. The water was to his ankles and he could hear the water falling.
_Drip...Drip...Drip..._
How the hell did he ended up in a sewer?
He opened his mouth. 'What the hell...?'
4. Chapter 4
The bell rang through the classroom. It was Friday and one break and period to go before the weekend started. Naruto sighed deeply and packed his stuff, he'd gotten three warnings already for not paying attention to the lectures today. He tried to pay attention, but he just couldn't keep his attention on school, well... less than usual, because he always had trouble paying attention to his classes. If it wasn't for his parents tutoring he would've had much more trouble keeping attention and keeping his grades to a decent level.
Although what happend in his dream was really weird and while he tried to push the thoughts at the back of his mind, they seemed to pull him to the back of his mind.
_When he opened his eyes he was not in his room, the place looked like a sewer. It did not stink or anything, but it was really weird. He looked around the place, it was a dark and long corridor with pipes that seemed to glow softly in the dark place._
_The water that leaked out of the pipes glowed with a soft teal blue colour onto the already wet floor. The weird water-ish fluid flowed through the pipes all to the same direction._
_Naruto frowned confused and walked further into the sewer-like corridor, following the the glowing pipes as it seemed to get darker the further he walked through the strange place. It became slightly lighter as he came into a bigger room. There was a gigantic door before him. The blonde looked marveled at the symbols on the door, though the longer he stared at it, the more it began to look like a cage. So he deceided to call it a cage._
_He recogonized some kanji and hiragana through the symbols, while he could recognize some, others were completely gibberish to him. As he came closer to the cage, the blonde saw somethig inside the cage. Hiding in the shadows there was a huge silouette, a beast bigger than any thing he had seen. All at the sudden it's eyes snapped open, blood red eyes stared at the blonde boy, menacing red glowing slitted eyes stared silently at the small human behind the bars. Then, then it roared just as loud as in his dream._
After that he was rudely awoken by the sound of his alarm. All day long he kept thinking about his dream absent minded. He suspected that his parents knew there was something up, but he denied that. Something he had to deal with after school.
Sighing he walked down the corridor to his locker to grab his books for his last period after lunch time. He joined his friends at their table and started eating silently. | d422775a32b74de49c6d4b7fab1223f2 | ['20f0551c8e9644f09cdae26b37875977'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hey! You can find the fic also on wattpad and fanfiction under the same name and same author
**Chapter 1: Prologue**
* * *
Naruto and Sasuke stood, on the now destroyed and barren cliffs of the Valley of the End, both were panting both were almost out of chakra. They had been fighting for the last few hours and were both exhausted.
**'Oi, Naruto.'** A large booming voice called out to the blonde.
'What is it Kurama?'
**'I'm giving you the last of my remaining chakra, don't let him drain anymore of your chakra. After that I'll fall asleep for a while. So DON'T overuse it on your technique!'**
'I won't you furball!' Naruto grinned as he started molding his chakra into one of his signature jutus, the Rasengan.
Sasuke was doing the same as Naruto as the pushed the last of his chakra into his Chidori, as the whistling sound of one thousand birds started filling the air.
They both started to charge at each other, the waterfall roaring beneath them, as their respective techniques came to life.
'RASENGAN'
'CHIDORI'
Both techniques collided together and then there was a huge flash of bright light that lighted up the whole valley, what could have been seen all the way to Suna, if the whole world wasn't in an infinite Tsukuyomi trapped.
Somewere further in the valley the light also reached Sakura and Kakashi's eyes.
'NARUTO!!! SASUKE-KUN!!!!' Sakura cried out as they ran towards the blinding light.
* * *
Somewhere else in the past a 9 year old Naruto woke up sweating and frightened from a nightmare.
2. Chapter 2: The first vision
Naruto woke up panting and scared of a nightmare which he couldn't recall clearly, the only thing he did remember was slaughter and blood... a lot of blood. Which was quite frightening for a nine year old that also didn't have parents to calm him down.
He looked for the time on his alarm, it was 6:56 AM. He frowned it was way too early to be waking up. It almost never happened that he would wake up early. Well.... Only if his alarm wasn't out of battery.
But then he looked better at his alarm, it was not ticking. He quickly looked at his clock in the kitchen, it was 10:06 AM. And the academy started at 8:30 AM
'AHH CRAP I'M SOOOOOOO LATE!' he yelled to himself. 'No time to shower, I'll do that after school.' He added mentally.
He ran towards his closet and tried to jump into his orange hoodie and grey pants, failing miserably as he fell on his face. He jumped up and threw on his clothes and quickly adjusted his green goggles and jumped out of his window, obviously forgetting to lock it.
* * *
Naruto ran on the street towards the academy while ignoring the cold looks of the villagers of Konoha. While he was running his thoughts trailed away from his nightmare from the last night.
What he didn't noticed was that there was a tall man in his way. He crashed right into the man and fell on his butt.
'WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING YOU SCRUM!!' the man immediately raged angry towards the poor boy.
'Sorry sir, I didn't see you..' Naruto tried apologizing.
'NO YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE YOU DEMON!!'
Naruto sighed sadly it was one of those days again, he started to walk away.
'HEY COME BACK HERE YOU DEMON!!' the man yelled.
'I'M NOT A DEMON, I'M THE FUTURE HOKAGE UZUMAKI NARUTO DATTEBAYO!! AND WHEN I'M HOKAGE YOU SHALL RESPECT ME!!' Naruto yelled back as he started running again towards the academy.
* * *
By the time Naruto arrived at the academy it was almost half past ten.
'NARUTO YOU ARE LATE!' Iruka-sensei said sighing, it was common for Naruto to be late. But still....
'Sorry Iruka-sensei, my alarm clock ran out of battery..' Said Naruto, scratching the back of his head.
Iruka sighed, 'Was that boy ever going to be fine? 'It's fine Naruto just go and take your seat. We were just starting on the history of the past four hokages.'
The rest of the hour was boring with the lectures of the scarred chunin except the fact that naruto was pestering Sakura with dates which she replied with a punch on his head.
'Okay, class who can tell me what made the Yondaime Hokage special?' Iruka looked around in the classroom searching for vingers. 'Yes, Sakura?'
'It was because he killed the kyuubi 9 years ago was it?' the rosette answered.
'Actually no Sakura. He was famous because he used a special jutsu that enabled him to teleport to a place instantly, it was invented by the second hokage Senju Tobirama.' He explained. 'Does anyone know what the jutsu is called, it is not that I don't expect it that anyone knows it. Anyone?'
Naruto who was half asleep suddenly raised his hand up.
'Yes, Naruto?'
'Hirashin no Jutsu!' he replied, while he thought _'huh, how did I know that?'_
The class was shocked, that was the first time the dead last answered a question correctly.
'Errr.. that was correct Naruto, good job!' Praised Iruka. 'How did you know that, we never?'
'Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.......... it actually just popped into my head. Ehehehe...' said Naruto thinking.
'It's fine Naruto.' Iruka looked at the clock. 'Alright class it seems it is time to our daily sparring session. Follow me to the sparring area outside the building.'
Half of the class groaned while the other half cheered at the thought of showing their skills of, like a certain whiskered blonde.
* * *
'Alright the first spar is...' Iruka-sensei looked on the clipboard he had in his hands. 'Haruno Sakura VS Hyuuga Hinata, come forwards please.'
She shy blue haired girl eeped forward on the field so did the pink haired. |
f2933e64449841a49551eea25fc54ad4 | ['20f51aea322844e29b96fde9b58caaed'] | „Where the hell are you? Don’t you dare tell me that you are still at the practice room, cause I’m gonna slap you so hard that your brain will fly out of your skull.” He could’t help but laugh at Jimin’s threat. His angry voice sounded funny and it even got funnier when he heard Jimin’s whine. Although he stopped laughing when he heard that Jimin wasn’t whining. He was crying. „Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon! Did you just got home? Go to sleep!” Hoseok tried to sound sympathetic. His heart broke when he heard the quiet whimpers coming out from him. He wanted to go home to him, to be there with him, because it was a hard time for him, but he couldn’t. He needed to practice.
„ My I’ll-be-home-soon ass. We both know, you won’t come home soon. You will just overwork yourself and I will have to get your fainted ass home, as always. I need my best friend, Hoseok. I need you. Please come home.” Jimin was crying so hard now, that Hoseok almost couldn’t hear the end of the sentence. But just almost. He heard it and he can’t say no to Jimin. „Okay.” Hoseok said quietly and hung up. He packed his things and headed home. To Jimin.
When Hoseok opened the door, he found a curled up Jimin in the living room. He was laying in the couch, breathing quietly. Boxes were all over around him, and that furniture he was laying on was one of the few things that was already unpacked.
He grabbed a blanket and put it over Jimin, so he wouldn’t get sick. As he stepped back from the sleeping boy, he saw dried tears on his cheeks. He felt awful for not being there for Jimin when he needed him, so he gently hugged him, making sure to not wake him up.
He went to the bathroom, skipping the kitchen, cause he didn’t have appetite, even tho he hadn’t eaten anything all day.
He took off all of his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water was cold but he was grateful for it. It took him 1 minute before he broke down. He sat down, drew up his legs, his hands were clasped around his knees.
It started as a quiet sob. He didn’t want to accidentally wake up Jimin, so he tried to stop himself from crying. But he couldn’t stop by then.
He had been feeling this for a week now, since Jimin left. He had hoped it will go away once the boy was here with him again, but it just made everything worse.
This week, his mind told him that he was not strong, not a good dancer, not a good friend, not good enough. The last time he felt like this was years ago. And now it was happening again. But it was just so much worse. Years ago he had Jimin helping him. Making sure he was okay, he was not a burden, he was loved. This time he did not want to bother Jimin. He also had his problems, and he knew the boy would be there for him. But he couldn’t make himself asking for help, when his mother just died.
He stood up, turned off the water and started searching for a thing. When he found said thing he was glad they had set up the bathroom already.
He put the blade across his wrist. He hesitated a second. 'What if Jimin founds out? He is already sad and this would make things worse. He would panic and would try everything to make me feel better.'
But what if he doesn’t find out? He doesn’t care about you. He won’t care if you do this. So why shouldn’t you, just. Make it happen?
He kinda missed the little voice in his head.
He dragged the blade across his skin, leaving cuts.
„They were laying on the ground in a field, watching the sky. It was dark and the stars were shining so brightly and the moon was so gorgeous. The two boys weren’t saying a word, only admiring the beautiful scenery.
„It will be better, you know?” one of the boys said quietly.
„What are you talking about?”
The boy ignored the question, and instead started talking. „ Remember when we first met? We were in in the playground of the kindergarten. You came to me and asked to play together.”
„Yeah, Jimin, I know. Why are you bringing it up?”
„You told me that you have to smile a lot, to make people happy and you brought up the sun as an explanation. You told me you will be my sunshine.”
„Yes, but what are you trying to say with this now?”
„You know, even the sunshine needs someone. They can also get sad sometimes and on those days they need someone to lead them.” Jimin took Hoseok’s hand, carefully, not to hurt the cuts on it. „You are my sunshine Hoseok, but I’ll be your moonlight.”
[J]
When Jimin woke up, to a loud noise, he was a bit confused when he found a blanket on himself, because he remembered that he had fallen asleep without it. A moment later he realized that it was probably Hoseok who put it on him, not wanting him to catch a cold.
He felt that his throat was dry so he stood up to get water. While he was walking to the kitchen he heard the bathroom’s door opening and saw a tired looking Hoseok there.
„Hoseok?”
„Sorry, did I wake you up?” he asked and Jimin was concerned cause he hadn’t seen Hoseok like this for ages. He had dark (and deep) circles under his eyes. His hear was messy and greasy and he just simply looked tired. Exhausted. Jimin could see in his eyes that he was guilty, probably thinking that he had woken him up. | 275bf6572fe849c1a94d57121b227873 | ['20f51aea322844e29b96fde9b58caaed'] | „Mommommom, I want my mooom!” Jimin was crying. It was the first time that he was away from his mother. He was 6 years old and went on his first trip with his class. It was night and there was a huge storm. Earlier he had climbed into Hoseok’s bed, and he was currently attached to him as he was crying. Hoseok tried his best to get him to calm down but nothing was helping. All of the teachers were away and he was too scared to leave Jimin alone. He started to sing a song his mother used to sing to him, when he wasn’t feeling well or when he was scared.
’The Sun is shining brightly
Making everyone happy
And even when you can’t see it
It’s there, In an other person
In yourself
The Sun is shining brightly
It’s so beautiful and confident
Just like you
So focus on the sunshine
Even if you are feeling scared.’”
When Hoseok woken up he felt Jimin’s head on his thighs. He smiled when he saw his sleeping friend, happy that he had gotten some rest. He checked the time and he realized that he should had been practicing for a hour. The competition was in 4 days and he still needed to perfect some parts.
He gently stood up, not waking Jimin up, and he left to the practice room after he had changed into his dancing clothes.
When he arrived he didn’t warm up. He needed to start to practice as fast as possible.
He was glad that no one was there with him, so he could fully concentrate on his routine.
He was 2 hours into it, when he had fallen. He was on the ground, just like last time, but this time he felt pain in his ankle. 'Fuckfuckfuck, not now. Not now, not now, not now. This can’t be happening, right?' He thought, as he tried to stand up, nut had fallen miserably to the ground. He gave up after 15 minutes. He was laying on the floor, covered in sweat, and was trying hard to stay awake.
His last memory was that the phone started to ring.
[J]
Jimin woke up feeling cold. He looked around and saw that Hoseok had disappeared. He checked the time on his phone (ignoring the messages) and saw that it had passed 9. He groaned and started to search after his friend. He looked for him everywhere, but he couldn’t find him. He searched for him in every room, but he was nowhere. Jimin sweared under his nose. He knew one more place where he could find Hoseok, and he really didn’t want to find him there. The accident from the last time was still hunted him.
He called Hoseok multiple times but he wasn’t answering it. Jimin was angry and worried at the same time as he quickly grabbed something on himself and headed to the practice room.
Jimin was running as fast as he could, but he felt like the time had stopped. He imagined getting there seeing a half-dead, or even worse a dead Hoseok there. All he saw was blood and a broken boy. He started to run faster.
When he got to the entrance, he was heading to the room where he knew Hoseok will be. When he opened (almost ripped the door out of its place) door he saw a boy. And then Hoseok. He was laying on the stranger’s lap. The unknown boy was holding a cold towel towards Hoseok’s forehead.
„Who are you?” Jimin asked. He saw that the stranger was surprised when he saw him, clearly not noticing him before.
„My name is Jackson. I wanted to practice today but I found him on the floor and he wasn’t waking up. I already called an ambulance. They should be here soon. Do you know him?” The boy quickly explained everything.
„Yes. He is, he is my best friend.”
„Well then, I will leave you alone with him and will wait for the doctors outside.” Jackson said as he gently put a sweater under Hoseok’s head.
„Thank you. For looking after him and everything.” Jimin told him and the boy smiled at him before leaving the room.
Jimin slowly walked and kneelt next to Hoseok. He stroked his hair and started to cry. He only just noticed now how bad Hoseok actually looked. He was pale and sweaty. You could see his bones under his sweater.
„I’m so sorry baby. I should have been here with you, I should have been there for you. I know I was a shitty friend but please be okay so I can be a better friend for you. Please forgive me.” Jimin was holding Hoseok’s hand (which was wet because of Jimin’s tears) as the doctors walked in. They brought Jimin away so they could examine Hoseok properly. Jimin was standing next to Jackson (who refused to leave before making sure that Hoseok was alright).
„We are taking him to the hospital. One of you can ride with him.” One of the doctors said.
„I think I should go now. Please let me know how is he.” Jackson said as he handed his number to Jimin.
„Of course. Thank you for everything. I really am glad that you were here with him, until I got here.” Jimin thanked him as he left the room to go to the hospital with Hoseok.
[H]
Hoseok felt nothing and it was the best feeling he had ever felt. Unfortunately it only lasted for a second before the pain came. His head hurt, his arms hurt, his legs hurt. He tried to open his eyes but it was too bright. He heard a quiet voice but couldn’t recognize it. All he could recognize was the pain. From a moment to another everything went black. |
d6f57a64049f44cabfe786fdaae31820 | ['20fb66fc0bd94eb0a256dff38718a406'] |
No Matter What
**Author's Note:**
> Sorry its so short!! X
Louis's P.O.V.
I raised my black tee shirt over my head, looking at myself in my full length mirror. I don't understand how anyone could love me. I'm hideous. I studied myself for a good twenty minutes. I need to lose weight. My thighs are too big, and my stomach has a pooch. All the other boys are fit and toned, espesially my boyfriend. I have been to the weight room countless times at five a.m. helping Harry work out. By 'helping' I mean kissing him every time his finishes a workout. He has asked me if I wanted to join him, but I said no. But recently, I my self confidence has hit rock bottom. Everything about me I hate. I'm usually not like this, but when I am I feel like dying.
I squeezed the fat on my stomach once again, then I grabbed the fat on one of my thighs, releasing it watching it jiggle back into place. Hot tears found their way down my face. Why am I so fat? I don't even know why Harry is still with me. I'm a bloody disgrace to mankind.
"Babe?" My head snapped up and I turned to see Harry, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt. I quickly pulled my shirt back on. I could tell Harry was working out because he was shirtless, and he had drops of sweat on his face and on his chest.
"Did you not want me to go with you this morning?" I questioned, walking over to him. He placed his hands on my hips, grinning slightly.
"You were fast asleep and I didn't want to wake you." He responded, I tensed up to his hands touching my 'fat' body.
"You always wake me up." I said
"I'm sorry Boobear, I was just in a hurry." He replied, 'oh' he didn't want me there.
"It's fine." I said removing his hands, walking away from him.
"Are you really mad about this?" He said, following me.
"No Harry." I snapped.
"Then what's wrong?" He asked
"Nothing, sod off." I replied, walking towards the door. He grabbed my wrist, yanking me back making me hit his chest.
"Louis. What's wrong." He demanded. I looked down, my eyes filling with tears again. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can't see me cry. "Louis, look at me babe." I shook my head keeping my head down.
"I told you Harry, there's nothing wrong." I said, desperately trying to get rid of the tears without wiping them.
"Then look at me."
"No." He took his finger and tilted my chin up to face him.
"Why are you crying?" He asked, suddenly worried.
"Get off!!" I shoved him hard before running out of the room and dashing through our house, and out the door. I had to get away from there.
________________________________________________________________________________
Harry's P.O.V.
What. The. Fuck. I scratched my head, what was wrong with him? I glanced around the room, where I found a small black notebook. Curious, I flipped it open, it was pages and pages of measurements. The dates dating back to last year. The newest one was today, why would he measure himself? I flipped the page all that was written was "FAT." I dropped the book onto the ground. Louis thought he was fat?! That's why he quickly put on a shirt. Oh my God.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Louis's P.O.V.
I came back four hours later. It was one o' clock. I opened the door and when up to Harry and I's room. He was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, walking over and climbing into bed with him. "I had a bad night, didn't get much sleep." When he didn't reply, I scooted closer to him cuddling into his side, moving his arm so It was around me, and I laid my head on his firm chest. "Are you mad at me?" I asked, looking up at him, his gaze still on the ceiling. "Harry."
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly as I saw a stray tear leave his left eye.
"What are you talking about?" He jumped up and out of the bed, grabbing something and throwing at me. My notebook.
"You had NO right to read this!!" I screamed, standing up.
"Maybe not, but when my boyfriend is starving himself I think I should know!" He yelled. I gulped, my eyes watering.
"I'm not." I managed to squeak.
"BULLSHIT, LOUIS!" He screamed, the vein on his neck popping out. I couldn't reply, I started crying, hard. "Damn it." He rushed over to me, collecting me in his arms. AS much as I wanted to shove him, I didn't, I hugged his chest, getting tears all over his shirt.
"I-I'm s-sorry." I cried, hugging him tighter. He let go of me, looking into my eyes, taking my hands in his, I saw he was crying as well.
"Baby, I can't lose you. I can't live without you. Your everything to me. I have loved you since the X-Factor, when you had lesbian hair, which I admit was adorable. What on God's green Earth makes you think I won't love you now? Your not fat. At all. But even if you weighed five hundred pounds, I'd still love you. Your mine, I want you no matter what. I will never let you go. I meant what I said three years ago, when I looked you in the eyes and told you that I loved you. I still mean it. I love you, Louis Tomlinson." He finished.
"Really?" I asked, staring into his emerald eyes.
"Of course." He responded, I smiled before standing on my tip toes, and pressing my lips to his. He wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning down so I didn't have to stand on my toes. I pulled away after a while, looking at his swollen lips.
"I love you too, Harry Styles." | 280dd4b96e2d4101a5b8ca95c522248f | ['20fb66fc0bd94eb0a256dff38718a406'] | "Ash." I turned to look at him. "Please don't tell me that you-"
"No, babe. I'm perfectly fine." I yanked my wrist back.
"Ashton." He grabbed my wrist yet again, I bit my lip hard. I felt blood on my mouth. "I think we need I talk."
"I don't think so." I knew what was gonna happen.
"I really have to tell you something." He replied. My heart sunk. Oh dear god. He's breaking up with me. " I think that recently-" Before he got anymore words out I was in tears.
"No. Luke, please I'll do anything. Please don't do this." I pleaded, my vision blurring. Suddenly I felt weak, but I shook it off. "I need you. I need you. You'll all I have." I couldn't read his expression before I dashed off into the bathroom. Collapsing into the cold floor, crying my eyes out.
"Ash. Come on." I heard him on the outside of the door. He swung open the door beige kneeling beside me. "What's going on with you?"
"With m-me?" I yelled. "Your my b-boyfriend but you don't l-love me. You act like I d-don't exist. Maybe you'd be happier with Cal." I mumbled getting off the ground and heading out of the door.
"What!" He grabbed my hips turning me around to face him. "Ashton. Look at me." I shook my head. "Ash." He raised my chin up to look at him. "Baby I love you. I don't want Calum. I want you. That's why I asked you to date me. I thought you were going to break up with me, since you were hanging out with Gemma. That's why I was hanging out with Cal. I love you so much. I don't want to break up with you. Back there I was just going to tell you that I was sorry for not paying as much attention to you."
"Really?" I mumbled, smiling slightly.
"Yes really, I think you are perfect, by the way." He took my hand, removing the bracelets. I attempted to yank my hand away but he just held it tighter. Once he bracelets were all off he flipped my arm over to the cuts. He kissed each one, the old ones and new ones. Once he was done he looked down at me. "I love you." He said. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his.
"Not more than I love you." I said, kissing him again. He pulled away looked at me.
"I want you to stop." He said looking into my glossy eyes.
"I-I don't know if I can." I said as a tear escaped my eyes.
"I need you here, Ashton." He said, meeting my stare.
"No yo-" I started.
"No. I fucking love you. I can't live without you. So." He took my hands in his intertwining out fingers, "If you go I go." My eyes widen.
"Luke that's preposterous."
"It's the way it's gonna be. If you leave me here. I'm going with you."
"Baby."
"That's a promise."
"Fine." He smiled leaning down capturing my lips in his, releasing my fingers moving his hands to my face, cupping it.
"When I said I loved you, I meant it Ashton." He said, I chuckled at his puffy lips.
"I meant it when I said I loved you too, Luke." I replied staring at him.
"Forever?" He held out his pinky, chuckling I did the same.
"Forever. |
aa24180ff22342e9ba45c5d78bb2b896 | ['2105da19cf8f45778fead4e788120823'] |
Liquor Lips
Cas stumbled in the motel room, his senses a bit shaken for the alcohol he had consumed. He needed more control of his surroundings, Dean will notice.
Dean looked at him and arched a brow.
Crap, here we go
"are you drunk? shit, Cas, how the hell did you manage to get drunk you're an angel" Dean had walked mid sentence to where Cas was standing, stepping for a moment in the angel's personal space and checking for any injury.
"Imma fine Dean" the vocals carried slightly as he moved forward, stumbling with his own foot and being catch by Dean.
Dean walked backwards, planning on leaving Cas in the bed to sleep his drunken state, but Cas noticed movement and tried to move, causing them fall in the bed, Cas on top of a flushing Dean.
He stood there, dazed by the blue of Cas eyes, his gaze skipping to the angels lips.
"Cas?" the hunter asked nervously, fidgeting with the covers underneath him, as the angel keep staring at him, hungry gaze piercing through Dean, forearms framing his head, straddling his hips.
The angel hummed and then he was leaning to catch Dean lips, soft kiss, Dean made a surprised sound in the back of his throat but kissed back eagerly, tasting the alcohol in Castiel's mouth. His hands flied to grab at the angels shoulders. Nothing mattered now. Suddenly all the alcohol was out of his system.
"Dean, get tour clothes off, now" Cas growled as he stood and quickly removed his trenchcoat and the jacket of his suit. His shirt quicker untucked and unbuttoned. And then he was staring at Dean.
Dean looked down at him, his clothes still on.
"oh, yes, yes" he tore his shirt and t-shirt over his head fumbling with his jeans, watching hungrily as Cas took off his shirt and unfastened his trousers, letting them pool at his ankles, toeing his shoes off at the same time that Dean untied his boots and kicked them off, finally getting off his jeans.
They stood in front of the other, breaths raged, admiring the body in front of them.
Dean took initiative and pulled Cas by the waist, getting their bodies pressed up, and he leaned down to kiss the angel.
Castiel grabbed him by his thighs and moved them to the bed again, his body pushing down Dean's, his hand brushing so soft, almost afraid over Dean's bulge.
Dean bucked up and gasped, feeling how hard the angel was, but Cas, the growl he let out made Dean whine under his breath. Damn if that wasn't one of the hottest things he had heard ever.
Cas, seeing that the friction generated such a beautiful response in the hunter, tried his hips down, drawing more moans from Dean, making them louder when he started biting and kissing at the hunter's neck, tasting the salty yet sweet of Dean's skin.
"Cas, i-if you keep it like this I-I'm gonna come in my pants like a frigging teenager, I don't think we want that, do we?" Dean breathed out, sighing in relief as Cas stopped his movements, giving him time to crawl away from the edge. He had been so close, so fucking close. He had no idea how this had started, but he was certain how wanted this to end.
"Cas, I want you to fuck me, please?" he sounded so needy and Cas just breather heavier.
But Cas nodded, and after pulling his and Dean boxers down mojoed a bottle of lube.
Eyes fixed on Dean, he coated his fingers, moving them down Dean's dick, admiring when he twitcked and moaned. As he finally reached his entrance, Cas looked up, seeking for permission.
Dean nodded eagerly, waiting for the pressure.
The first finger curled slowly inside, probing, feeling the heat.
Dean curled his hands in the sheets. He needed to calm down or he would blow right now.
Cas used his free hand to caress his thighs a and belly, feeling how the muscles rippled under his touch. Trying to distract Dean.
The second finger, drawn a moan from the back of Dean's throat, so deep that Cas growled back, thrusting harder with his digits.
"Cas, more, please" the hunter pleaded when the fingera brushed over his prostate and Cas, watched as the third finger slipped in.
Dean's hips slammed back, trying to get the fingers deeper, moaning. He wanted it, he needed it so bad.
Cas looked up at Dean eyes and his blue orbs swallowed the whole beauty of the debauched body of Dean Winchester. Lips red and swollen, dick leaking and making a mess of himself, and an angel, between his legs, making him shiver and thrust up in pleasure.
Cas pulled away, coated his length as Dean half whined in protest but then protest died and turned in a content moan when he noticed what's coming next.
Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean at the same time he slowly eased in the hunter's body, grunting low for the pressure, enjoying the tightness and the small moans that scaped of Dean's mouth.
Dean was impossibly tight and Cas had to give himself sometime for walking back from the edge. Just circling his hips, pushing forward in the slightest bit, and pulling back.
"Cas, move" Dean moaned and grabbed harder the angel's shoulders and pressed him down, chest against chest, heat radiating from one to other.
Castiel got it up for real, quickly slamming his hips forward barely giving Dean time to think what's going on before the pleasure took over every unnecessary function and made out of him a moaning mess, that could only manage out pleas and needy sounds.
"Dean" Cas growled "so good for me, so pretty, whining all wantonly, for me" Cas snapped his hips, looking for a deeper spot in Dean.
The blond didn't knew from where all that shit came but it was damn hot.
Dean gasped and reached for Cas' hair, pulling him down for a kiss as he reached the edge, falling over it, long moan of Castiel's full name.
The angel reacted wildly at the mention of his full name, speeding the pace, thrusting with abandon in the hunter, several ins-outs later he was coming too.
Deep gravelly voice letting out the hunter's name before he stopped, or more like slowed down through all the orgasm.
Cas carefully slid out, dropping his body half on Dean, half on the mattress.
"we gotta do this again, you hear me?" | 07e964a987a74f108a726b0275401b88 | ['2105da19cf8f45778fead4e788120823'] | Pull me Closer and Kiss me Hard
A short man was running down the street, he was starting to hate this weather. He stopped.
He tried to even his breath, resting his back on a tree.
Chuck breathed out, watching as the air materialized in a small fog that floated up quickly dissipating. His gloved hands fixed the woolen hat in his head and tightened the scarf around his neck. He decided of walking away from the little shelter that a big tree provided and rushed to his boyfriend's threshold. He was just two houses away from the tree.
He knocked quick. Footsteps sounded through the wood of the door and stopped in front of it. Chuck could tell he has looking at him trough the peephole, he waved a hand and flashed a smile.
The door bursted open and he was being shoved inside, tripping on the carpet and nearly flinching as the door slammed behind his back.
"Hi Luce" he smiled against his boyfriend's neck, and his boyfriend pulled him away enough to have a clear focus of his face.
The blonde man looked at him with worried eyes, a paler shade than his own. Chuck didn't even properly had greeted him when Lucifer began taking of his clothes. He huffed out a protest for his clothes but died immediately as Lucifer stole him a quick kiss.
Chuck was pushed to the couch in the living room meanwhile his gloves, his hat, his scarf and his big fluffy parka where throw to the hall floor.
Lucifer had a nice fire cracking in his dark fireplace and as soon as Chuck was on the couch Lucifer had him on his lap, flying a fluffy blanket over Chuck shoulders, pulling him closer. Occasionally kissing Chuck's nose in a cute attempt to warm it.
The always impossibly cold body of Lucifer seemed to radiate heat now and within a few minutes Chuck cheeks were flushed. He shimmied a bit to fit himself better in Lucifer's embrace.
"thank you" Chuck muttered against Luci's neck, nosing against it, inhaling his scent.
"uh, its not a problem, though I'm not used to comfort someone" Lucifer talked on his low always seductive tone, but now sounded apologetic, like if he thought he wasn't doing something right.
"its fine Luce" he smiled, his hands cupped the blond cheeks " I enjoyed pretty much being warmed up by you, besides, you can be almost all muscle but you are very comfortable" he smiled a bit uncomfortable because Lucifer was all muscle and he was a marshmallow-human hybrid.
Lucifer laughed.
"I'm not all muscle, luckily a 40 percent, and don't give me that smile of 'you are muscle, I'm marshmallow' because that only gives me a great desire of eating you up, shoes included" Lucifer used his most seductive voice and as if to empathize his words he nibbled at Chuck's neck. Then he tickled down his sides.
They both laughed now, Chuck loosing a bit of concentration in holding himself upright.
Lucifer used the opportunity and leaned Chuck in the couch, leaning over him, smirking as his hand held Chuck's hip.
"I already was wondering when I'll got you all over me" he cracked a smile and brushed Lucifer's stubble.
"I'm not all over you, and the day's mood is more quiet, more like kisses and cuddles" He frowned as if he was analyzing something " if you are ok with that, of course" his eyes shinned with determination.
Chuck smiled wider and pulled Lucifer down for a chaste kiss.
"it's perfect, Luce"
Lucifer leaned down again, pushing a bit, deepening the kiss, smirking in the same when his tongue met Chuck's and the shorter man moaned softly. They pulled apart for a heartbeat and with their lips brushing and breathing the other's air they smiled.
"you gotta loose some clothes, sunshine" Lucifer's low nearly growl made Chuck want to melt. But he obliged, dragging up his sweater and for the first time noticing that his boyfriend was just with boxers and a tee.
Chuck pushed up at Lucifer lightly, he stood and pushed down his jeans and kicked off his boots. Bravely he pushed Lucifer down and jumped on him.
"someone's grabbing confidence" he grinned and pulled Chuck down for a kiss "but I'm still pinning you down" he rolled Chuck and now he was again pressed on the couch.
Lucifer trailed kisses down Chuck's neck, tugging at the collar of his shirt to kiss at his clavicle, lapping and nibbling at the soft skin, hands roaming down Chuck sides, drawing soft moans from his throat.
Their lips met again, Chuck's hands curling on the soft blonde hair of his boyfriend, pulling him down, deepening the kiss even more.
Lucifer pulled away and kissed Chuck's cheeks and brushed his hands in his hair, smiling fondly.
"you know I love you, right?" Lucifer whispered leaning over again and kissing softly Chuck's lips.
"yeah, and I love you too" he pulled Lucifer down and hugged him. They stood like this for several minutes, until Lucifer pulled his headaway from its resting place on Chuck's chest.
"honey, I love everything that I do with you but I'd really like to go back to kissing"
Chuck smiled and kissed Lucifer again and sighed when Lucifer's tongue framed his lips and made a contented noise when it brushed against his.
They eventually stopped kissing and just held the other until they both had fell asleep, sharing their warmth.
**Author's Note:**
> thanks for reading :3 |
1996e68c888f459595498c8c9b1f4b0f | ['211aae5d8b214486ba227018b45b3eae'] | Dean’s voice was wrecked but Sam’s wasn’t much better. He pushed his brother onto his back and lowered himself on top of him. Sam’s hard body aligned with Dean’s and their moans were swallowed into harsh kisses.
Dean pulled his head back and looked at Sam. His brother’s eyes were almost all pupil and his lips were red and swollen. Dean swelled with pride at the evidence of him all over his brother’s body and his cock twitched as Sam stared up at him with his bright eyes and flushed cheeks.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, kiddo”
Dean groaned out his words as he lowered himself back down on his brother and attached his mouth to Sam’s neck. As Sam bucked up against him and moaned oh so prettily, Dean figured he could die quite happy.
Dean knew it would be a different story in the morning and they were far from rainbows and sunshine but with his brother writhing underneath him and with his name coming from Sam’s lips, Dean was happy and in the morning when shit hit the fan he would blame the whisky and lack of sleep.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Omg so I suck at updating but here we go chapter 9! First time actually writing some smut so if it sucked I'm so very sorry! As always let me know if you want more :) xx
10. Chapter 10
Sam was burning.
There was a fire inside of him, burning through his veins and curling in his stomach. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was burning, burning alive and nothing could stop it. His skin felt too tight for his body, a thin sheet pulled taught over his bones. Sam’s fingers curled around burning flesh, but it wasn’t his own. He wasn’t burning alone.
Sam lay on a bed and let the fire consume him, felt the flames lick at his skin. Hands rough with callouses pulled at him, gripped him tight, hands that Sam knew anywhere. They were the hands that held him when he was scared, pushed the sweaty hair back from his head when he was sick, the hands that had always brought him home when he was gone away too long.
“Sam, my Sammy”
Sam felt the air leave his lungs as his brother spoke. His back arched and Dean was there, pulling at his body, bringing him closer. Dean was burning too. They were burning together.
“Dean. De, _please_ ”
Sam didn’t recognise his own voice; it was needy and broke when he said his brother’s name. He didn’t know what he was asking for, maybe for the burning to stop, maybe for it to never end. Dean would know though, Dean always knew what Sam needed.
Dean’s answer was an honest to god growl and the burning in Sam’s stomach rivalled the heat of a thousand suns. Dean pulled away and a whine dragged its way from Sam’s throat. Maybe he should be embarrassed by his own neediness, ashamed by his want.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart”
Sam’s body jerked upwards without thought. _Sweetheart_. He liked Dean calling him that. In the shitty motel room where Sam was burning alive, he was Dean’s sweetheart.
Dean pulled of Sam’s shirt and stared at him. Sam squirmed under his brother’s gaze, his fingers clenching with the sudden need to cover up and to hide. His hands gripped at the bed sheet as his eyes focused on a small stain on the far wall
“You’re perfect, you know that?”
Sam looked up at Dean almost expecting to see a smirk, for Dean to laugh at him and call him a girl. But instead worried green eyes stared back at him, his brother’s mouth was pulled down into a frown and Sam had the insane urge to kiss it away.
“You’re beautiful”
Sam dropped his eyes down, unable to cope with the unwavering gaze of his brother. He had never seen Dean look so serious, so utterly sincere. Dean thought Sam was beautiful. And perfect.
“Look at me. Sammy, please”
Sam couldn’t look at Dean. He just couldn’t. Dean _was_ beautiful and perfect, with his pretty eyes and soft lips, sculpted chest and chiselled jaw. He was heartbreakingly beautiful and Sam was just _Sam_. Nothing special, nothing pretty.
“Baby, look at me. _Sam!_ ”
Sam had barely lifted his head before his lips were captured by his brother and his mouth was being claimed once again. And just like before a fire burned through him within seconds of Dean’s mouth touching his own.
“I’ll show you. Show you, how – _fuck!_ -gorgeous you are”
Dean’s words were punctuated with kisses and nips of his teeth against Sam’s lips and Sam was becoming lost to the flames again, lost to his brother. Sam wanted to stop time and just live forever like this, just him and Dean.
The harsh material of Dean’s jeans rubbed against Sam’s bare legs, the denim chafing his thighs. He knew that soon the skin would be red raw but Sam could no longer control his own hips and he continued to rub himself over Dean. He felt like a bitch in heat and with the feeling of shame bubbling in him he wondered what he must look like to Dean. His brother didn’t seem to care though if his loud groans and sharp breaths were anything to go by.
“So, good. So good for me”
Sam’s body suddenly seemed overly sensitive and every touch was sending him into overdrive. His hands grabbed onto his brother, his dull nails scratching at Dean’s back. He needed Dean, all of Dean. His brother seemed to know that as his hands disappeared from Sam’s skin and started hastily twisting at his own belt. Dean kicked his jeans off and in seconds was back on Sam, his hands gripping at Sam’s hips pulling him ever closer. | cfc64a667cc04d29ac29d91b76205b38 | ['211aae5d8b214486ba227018b45b3eae'] | Dean’s heart thumped painfully against his chest, he was pretty sure his lungs had given up on him long ago. His eyes followed the slightly erratic rise and fall of Sam’s chest and he watched the growing blush spread across his brother’s cheeks. Sam’s shoulders quivered slightly and Dean’s big brother instinct took over him, before he fully registered his own actions he had shut the door and strode half way across the room, stopping at the foot of the bed.
Sam stared at him in that way that made Dean feel funny all over and Dean stared back. He wasn’t sure what he should say. Apologise for leaving him? Thank him for still being in the room? Ask if Bobby had called? Dean didn’t know what he could say, didn’t know if Sam even wanted to listen. When Dean had hightailed it out of the bar and drove down to the motel he had half expected it to be empty, for Sam to have been long gone. Dean didn’t think that Sam would have stayed, not for him anyway. Maybe Bobby hadn’t called yet. That meant that no one had tried to talk any sense into Sam yet, convinced him to leave Dean. So, Dean could maybe make him stay, tell Sam that he was sorry, promise to never mention how he felt or touch him. Dean could that; he would do it, for Sam. Dean could do anything for Sam.
But Sam was still staring and no one had said anything yet and Dean’s head was blurry and confused with lack of sleep and whisky. Maybe, when shit hits the fan he could blame the alcohol and tiredness and maybe, just maybe, Sam would forgive him. Sam craned his neck to look up at him and Dean couldn’t tell was Sam was thinking. His brother looked almost calm despite his audible breathing and the way his fingers clenched and unclenched around his knees.
“Hey, Dean”
Sam’s voice was soft and quiet but it shattered the silence of the room and caused Dean’s heart to increase tenfold.
“Hey there, Sammy”
His own voiced sounded hoarse and slurred. Dean coughed, trying to clear his throat. Sam continued to look up at him, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth allowing a hint of dimples to be seen his cheeks. Dean didn’t know how Sam could be so beautiful and get his dick harder than a rock in less than ten seconds and still to be the cutest thing that Dean had ever seen.
Dean suddenly felt too far away from his brother, like the short distance between them had stretched impossibly within mere seconds. Something must have changed in Dean’s face because he saw Sam’s own expression change, his little smile faltered and his eyes grew sad. Dean hated Sam’s sad face, it was worse than anything else in this world. Dean would be more than content with his impending fate if he lived the rest of life without ever looking into those sad eyes. Sam’s large doe-like eyes never failed to stir up the big brother in him, to make him almost ache in his need to see the light come back in his brother’s eyes, to be the one to destroy whatever had caused his Sammy to be sad. But as of late, it had been Dean that had caused the sadness. It had been Dean who hurt Sam, long before he made the deal. Dean always made Sam sad, and it broke Dean’s fucking heart every time.
“I’m sorry, y’know, for everything”
Dean whispered his apology, barely able to meet Sam’s eyes. The guilt was bubbling up inside him, threatening to consume him. Why couldn’t be the man Sam needed him to be?
“It doesn’t have to change anything, we can still be us. If you want or I could drop you off at Bobby’s or something or did you want to go to California or…”
Dean was rambling, he knew he was rambling. But he needed Sam to know that he could leave him alone if that’s what he wanted, he could still be his big brother. Dean needed to still be Sam’s big brother; it was all he knew how to do. Yeah, he had been doing a piss poor job of it lately but it was still his job.
“Dean. Dean, listen to me. _Dean!_ ”
Dean stopped talking and looked at Sam, his Sam. Dean simply looked at his beautiful, stubborn bitch of a brother with his bright eyes and soft smiles, bright eyes and soft smiles that were currently directed at him. Dean felt a rush of warmth as Sam looked at him, he almost always did but this time his heart hammered against his ribs and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Dean would walk straight into hell with a spring in his step if Sam always looked at him like this.
“Maybe, I want it to change things”
Dean’s heart stopped. Dean’s heart _actually_ stopped, he was sure of it. Did Sam mean what he thought he meant? The hope swirling inside him was reaching breaking point and Dean suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. He was completely at Sam’s mercy and a few choice words from his brother and he’d be broken beyond repair.
“Sammy…”
Dean’s voice broke as he whispered his brother’s name. He was breaking, drowning in his own head.
“Dean”
Sam was still staring, he was still sat on the shitty bed with his legs curled underneath him and he was everything that Dean called home. Dean needed this to be real, needed this not to be some left over hallucination from the dream root or a whisky fuelled dream. He wouldn’t be able to cope if he suddenly woke up slumped over on a sticky bar, he needed this like the air he breathed, needed Sam. |
1852e12e01a24632b0059ba6b3d1ca56 | ['2126f647097d4518bbdde7f181bec4b5'] | With a final roar, Diva’s body started to disintegrate as his soul and power were sucked into the Puzzle, the Millennium Ring falling uselessly to the ground. As Yugi began to feel a tug on his own soul, he also felt the strange sensation of something frantically pushing against it, as if trying to stop the ritual currently taking place, accompanied by feelings of fear and desperation. Believing it to be Diva trying to escape, Yugi forcefully shoved back with his own will. The sensation vanished, and Yugi’s body rapidly disintegrated into light. As the last of his body vanished and the rest of his soul sealed within the Puzzle, Yugi’s final thought was, strangely enough, ‘I hope Kaiba leaves the Puzzle _alone_ this time.’
With the King of Games and Plana fully imprisoned, the Millennium Puzzle shone brilliantly like a miniature sun. And as the damage done from the Plana was reversed due to its disappearance, the Puzzle shattered, its sealed power so great that it cast its pieces into the horizon and across the globe.
* * *
The Millennium Puzzle was shattered, most of the pieces were missing, and Yugi was gone. That was the first thing Seto Kaiba realized when he woke up and found a judgmental golden eye staring coldly at him. The second thing was that Diva was also gone and everything was restored. _But_ _the Millennium Puzzle was shattered, most of the pieces were missing, and Yugi was gone._ Yugi was supposed summon the Pharaoh and bring him back to Earth. Instead, Kaiba found himself lacking not just one rival, but _two._ The third thing he realized was that Yugi had vanished during a highly publicized event of his own making, and that both he and his company would be held responsible for the loss of the King of Games in the public eye.
The fourth was that this wasn’t nearly as gut wrenching as hearing Mokuba brokenly ask, “Where’s Yugi, Seto? Where did he go?”
* * *
Somewhere in the world, a trio of siblings, former tomb keepers, shed tears over their failure as guardians, and for the innocent soul who unjustly sentenced himself to a fate worse than death. And while the youngest among them screamed out curses and bloodied his fist against an abused wall, the other two could only look forlornly at each other and wonder:
_How would they ever be able to explain this to their Pharaoh?_
* * *
_In a plane of existence beyond the mortal realm, where the golden sands of Kemet danced and its empire reigned eternally, a howl of despair and anguish shook the land, a sorrow so deep and powerful that it could be felt by all who heard it. And those who heard it knew:_
_Part of their beloved Pharaoh’s heart had been lost._
**Author's Note:**
> This fic was based on a tumblr post which asked, "What if Yugi couldn't defeat Diva and had to seal them both away in the puzzle, causing the pieces to scatter across the world, and when Kaiba woke up, all he found was the puzzle's eye piece?"
>
> I don't know if I'll write more of this AU, as this was always intended to be a one-shot. | b56e11c9c97e457f90b9cd078898d94f | ['2126f647097d4518bbdde7f181bec4b5'] |
Autonomy
**Author's Note:**
> This was just an idea I had about why Darkpath!Honey Lemon doesn't cut her hair.
“Come _on_ , Hiro! If you would just _take care_ of it yourself I wouldn’t have to be doing this!”
Tadashi struggled to run the brush through the disgruntled teen’s hair. Said teen was making it his mission to be as difficult as possible by squirming and occasionally thrashing in Wasabi’s strong arms.
“Why do you care?! My hair’s always messy! You’d _know_ that if you hadn’t-”
Tadashi cut Hiro off before they retread _that_ muddy road again.
“I’m not _trying_ to make it neat, I’m just keeping the knots out of it so it won’t get matted!”
“It doesn’t matter if I always have it tied up!”
“Yes it _does_ , because you don’t brush it after you wash it and it _will_ get noticeable even if it _is_ always tied up!”
“I don’t know, man,” Wasabi grunted as he held Hiro as still as he could. “Maybe we should look into getting it trimmed, at least-”
“ _No!_ I’m _not_ cutting my hair!”
“Hiro, you may not have a choice-”
“I’m not letting you cut it, asshole! LET GO OF ME! _LET GO!_ ”
Hiro resumed violently thrashing in earnest, making Tadashi pause while Wasabi was forced to hold on as tightly as he could. Eventually, Hiro tired himself out, and after several more minutes of brushing and frustrated growling on both ends, Tadashi was finally satisfied that Hiro’s bird’s nest would remain knot free for a while. Wasabi released Hiro, immediately jumping back as he did so; half expecting the teen to lash out at him in retaliation for holding him (it wouldn’t have been the first time), he was relieved when Hiro only sprinted to his room with an angry “I fucking _hate you!_ ”. He slumped into a chair, exhausted.
“Maybe we _should_ cut his hair,” Tadashi said, exasperated. “Would certainly be easier in the long run.”
“And how would you do it? You’re not honestly suggesting we let a pair of scissors anywhere _near_ him, are you?”
“I don’t know, okay? I just don’t think we can keep this up.”
They both stayed silent for a minute, before Wasabi spoke up again.
“Maybe you could ask Honey? I’m sure she could help.”
“… Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t hurt. Hold on, I’ll give her a call.”
Tadashi walked into the next room, pulling out his cell phone and bringing up Honey’s number. He thought for a second before calling it. He was about to hang up after four rings when the call was finally answered.
“Tadashi, hi! How are you? How’s Wasabi? Is Hiro okay?”
Tadashi chuckled into the phone.
“Hello, fine, fine, and as okay as he can be given the circumstances.”
“Is he still really angry all the time?”
“Yep. Should’ve seen us just now, trying to brush that mop of his.”
“Aww, Hiro’s hair is always messy. It makes him adorable.”
“Yeah, when he’s not screaming and trying to break everything in throwing distance,” Tadashi grumbled. “Anyway, his hair is why I’m calling you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you could help cut it? It would make things easier for everyone, I think.”
“I think I could try.”
“We’ll need to find some way to restrain him or calm him or something, though. He’s probably gonna try to fight.”
“Wait, you mean he doesn’t want his hair cut?”
“He flipped at the mere suggestion of it.”
“… Don’t do it.”
Tadashi paused in confusion, briefly pulling the phone away and looking at it.
“What?”
“Don’t make him cut his hair if he doesn’t want to.”
“Honey, he’s not taking care of it.”
“I don’t care, just – You can’t do this. I won’t help you with it.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t … .” There was a sigh from her end. “Do you remember what my hair looked like when I was … with Hiro?”
Tadashi couldn’t forget. He remembered seeing old photos of her before the fire and how beautiful she’d looked, how long and full her hair was. And he remembered how she looked during their confrontations; dull, sad eyes, chemically burned fingers, and most noticeably, singed, tattered hair.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I could’ve had it cut, you know. At any point during those two years. But I was determined to never cut my hair as long as I was working for Hiro. My hair was _my_ decision, and mine alone. I lived with the horror of knowing that I could and _would_ lose control over my own body at a moment’s notice, forced to do things I’d never do willingly. But my hair was the one thing I had complete control over, and _no one_ would be taking that away from me. And so, no matter how ratty it got, I kept it exactly how it was.”
“But wouldn’t that have been the case even if you decided to cut it? I don’t understand.”
“I think I just needed them to know. It became a statement, really; the worse it got, the more obvious it was that I was making the conscious decision to keep it that way, and that nobody was going to make me change it. I was the one in control of it. And to be perfectly honest, cutting it would’ve felt like giving in to the situation, like I was accepting it. It would’ve been like admitting defeat.”
“Yeah, that … that makes sense. Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay! There’s a point to all this! What I’m trying to say, Tadashi, is that Hiro probably feels the same way about his own hair now, since … since everything ended. I imagine he doesn’t have much control over anything now, right?” |
4540621bb24848bfb1ecec1a60f25f2f | ['2147aa82272b477da2fccdf815b2e99e'] | He doesn't answer, opting to look outside at the rain filled night. But you pry his head back toward yours, "You are not weak for it Quinlan." Placing a kiss along his palm, "Let me take your fear, just for a little while."
After a moment Quinlan relaxes against your chest, and you hold him. Allowing him a sense of peace if only for a moment.
* * *
Quinlan told you of his plan that night, and the inevitability of losing him devastated you. You had sent him away because you needed time to process the loss. Days later led you to your current situation. Covered in Strigioi blood and curled up on the couch with a cup of stale coffee. Gazing at the wall with anger.
You sigh at the heavy steps of the hybrid. Relief burns in your throat as you turn to him. You were glad he was alive. That he was still _breathing_. He sets his sword against the wall, nose lifting onto the air before moving to your side. "You went hunting alone?"
Setting your cup down, you ignore his question. He already knew the answer.
He stands and turns to leave. "Please don't leave," you whisper, "Don't leave it like this."
Quinlan turns to look into your eyes, pressing a gentle hand onto your face. He helps you strip out of the bloody clothes in silence. But you can't help but feel the loss of him, even when he's right in front of you. "I feel such pain, I feel your loss. But you are right here," you shove your hands into his chest.
He grips them gently, placing a kiss onto your palms before lifting you into his arms. "I must kill the master," he states, teeth gritting against each other.
But you plead with him, "Don't make me watch you die."
“You know I must do this.” Quinlan dips his head into the crook of your neck. Scenting you while his lips brush across your skin. Both of you knew this would probably be the last time you would see each other.
“When the time comes, know that you own my heart. And with my last breathe, I will think only of you.” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.
You begin to cry at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. In that moment you knew he would die for you, and you in turn would die with him. | a8d2b69d326747ada17e51b421ba70c5 | ['2147aa82272b477da2fccdf815b2e99e'] | Suddenly he strode to her, her back pressing against the wall and she stared at him confused, “What-”
His lips pressed against hers in a rough kiss, a moan escaping her as his tongue slid into her mouth.
He pulled back, making her growl as she searched for his lips again, but was met with his large hand slamming her hip back against the wall. A wild look flashed in his eyes when he picked her up roughly, depositing her onto the bed. Her hands tangled in his hair as their lips met once again, pulling at his blonde locks to ask for more. He replied with a growl, reaching up to pull her head back, letting his fangs graze her bare skin.
She gasped, grinding her hips up against his. Heat pooling between her thighs, she had wanted him for so long. The desperation in him made her ache, “You are mine.” He moaned, fangs sinking into her skin.
Stars floated in her vision, a moan escaping her lips as he lifts her arms s above her head, holding them together with one of his hands. Ripping at her shirt, his eyes slowly taking in his prey. Her breathing deepened as his hand trailed down her breasts, to her hip, down between her legs. Moaning as he cupped her pussy, he slid a thick finger inside. He curled it inside her, letting it stroke against her g- spot, keeping a rhythm until she was almost bucking her hips against his finger.
Pulling it out, he looked into her eyes, whilst he began to undress. Watching with intrigue as he removed his shirt.
She definitely had looked at his body before, but never quite noticed the power his form displayed. Licking her lips, his hands moved to his jeans, pulling them down in one fluid motion.
Her pussy started throbbing as she saw his thick cock spring free, sliding his hand down to his length, he stroked gently. He raised an eyebrow as she bit her lip, pulling her up, he let one foot step on the bed, whilst the other kept him standing. She was on the edge of the bed, his cock now level with her face.
“Taste me Pet.” He commanded, and she obeyed.
Taking his head into her mouth, licking the underside while she let her teeth gently graze the sensitive skin. When he moaned she took more of his length into her mouth, letting her head start to bob back and forth, her face almost meeting his thick blonde wisps of hair along his dick.
His eyes closed as she continued, his balls were growing heavier and she could tell he was close to cumming. His eyes opened in surprise, his hand gripping her long hair, removing her mouth from his cock.
He shoved her onto the bed, her back hitting the comforter as Dio crawled on top of her, lifting her legs over his shoulders. She knew this would open up a few of her stitches, but didn’t give two fucks.All she wanted was him inside her.
She bit her lip, waiting for his thick member to thrust inside her. But all she felt was his soft cock rubbing against her clit, moaning she whined, “Dio?!”
He laughed, “Yes pet, what do you need?” Continuing to slide it against her slit in teasing movements, she growled, “Please FUCK ME!”
He slid inside her with a rough thrust, her body shuddering with pleasure. _‘Finally.’_ she thought. Smirking in satisfaction as Dios face morphed into almost a pained face. “Your so fucking tight.”
Pulling out slowly, cock plunging back inside her, keeping up the quick thrusts into her core. Hurt toes curling, mind turning to mush as her orgasm began to roll through her. She tightened around him, making him grunt. His movements became uneven, hips rocking against hers one last time. Eyes rolling back as he began to cum.
His taut body was sweaty as he released her legs, kissing her gently. For a few moments they both stayed silent, taking in each other. Her question had been nagging at her, and she finally worked up the courage. “Dio?” She asked.
Laying his head on her chest he, he curled on top of her. “Hm?” She bit her lip, _‘Just ask Umbra, you just had sex for fucks sake.’_
“Why did you do that for me.. Why did you risk your life?” She looked down at him, waiting. Almost regretting asking when he didn’t answer for a moment.
“I wanted to free you from your pain.” He explained.
Her heart warmed, finally she let tears she had been holding in for so long fall. “Dio, will you stay with me?” His large blonde head lifted, a sincere look in his eyes.
“I will stay with you until the light fades from my eyes Umbra.” His soft lips met hers again, kissing her tears away. |
b9e110fa418c405f83669977dff9be31 | ['214cd2c40b784f32ad173097cbae053f'] | lets end it
**Author's Note:**
> vent fic um
Donghyuck let out a big fat sigh, he was sat criss cross on his bed texting his boyfriends, about the events that had just happened. Donghyuck was sure he was overreacting so he reread the conversation multiple times. Everything was seemingly just fine? To him at least, but then Jaemin had snapped, he texted after Hyuck had said something about killing himself _"Reconsidering my complaints about you not answering"_ Yup. It was there and he was hurt. Sure yeah Jaemin could've said way worse but the truth is he wasnt always the kindest. He made not only him but Jeno and Renjun feel like shit too,multiple times. At that point Donghyuck had had enough. Nevertheless hed slept on it, just to make sure he was sure.
As morning came it was on Donghyucks mind. Donghyuck still felt bad, he was still hurt. He had decided. They were done. No he didnt mean he was breaking up with Renjun or Jeno just, Jaemin. Jaemin was in a different time zone and on vacation and luckily for hyuck when he was awake Jaemin was. So he did what he'd planned.
Donghyuck opened whatsapp scrolling to find Jaemin. They didn't text one on one much they had the groupchat and Jaemin didnt particularly,,,favor Hyuck. It was Jeno, Jaemin was soley theyre for Jeno and Donghyuck knew it. But Hyuck pushed that thought aside and texted Jaemin. Hyuck sat there for a second thinking of what to type and what he meant to say.
Hyuck decided to be simple and say" _Hey jaem, lets end it"_ Hyuck pressed send then sat his phone down thinking about what he'd just done.After what felt like forever his phone buzzed, Jaemin had replied. It was a big long message that hyuck didnt wanna read word for word but hed looked at the key ones. It was a mess of it wont happen again,i tried to change but i wont, and ive done so much for you and Donghyuck didnt wanna hear it he was DONE. He didnt want to date him anymore ,he hurt him he hurt Renjun and hed hurt Jeno.
Hyuck replied with _"Please let's just end it you didnt care for me anyway. You change for people you care for."_ Donghyuck was immediately bombarded with messages of Jaemin saying he was leaving him because of his mental issues and that "he kneeew this was coming" Donghyuck was annoyed and he HOPED it came through in his messages.
_"Look Jaemin. We're done. Nothing you say will change it. And no im not leaving you for your mental issues i have my own i dont care about that. you hurt me you hurt renjun and you hurt jeno. Its over between me and you, you jeno and jun can still date but, me and you, we're over"_ Donghyuck was so ready to just take a nap and forget about it. He decided to the stereotypical dumb break up thing and deleted the jaemins contact as well as their whatsapp history. He let out a breath of relief he assumed and took a big fat nap, feeling he deserved it after that mess.
**Author's Note:**
> based off a few of my breakups lmao | a8f26e11161142aa9805c39ee60c93b4 | ['214cd2c40b784f32ad173097cbae053f'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> extremeee tw :(
Chenle was sat on his bathroom floor, eyes puffy with tears rolling down his cheeks. Chenle didn't have the energy to cry out how he really felt he just let his tears fall, thinking about how he got there, _well, rather who pushed him to that point._
Chenle blinks hard and gets on his knees. He shoves his fingers down his throat, close his eyes tighter each time.Once he was done and cleaned himself up and looked in the mirror. He examined himself his eyes were red, his nose was running, _Im a fucking mess_ , he thought _this is for you Jisung. maybe you wont mind me if I was pretty._
Chenle had always known Jisung wasnt fond of him. Chenle knew their bond had gone sour over the years, at first Chenle didn't think much of it he'd just stop cuddling up to Jisung or whatver it would be easy. It was all good until Jisung was just rude, different than the regular teasing it was constant on and off camera. It had gotten to the point where Chenle couldnt just brush it off. Hed tried to tell Jisung but he got the worst response, "Maybe if you weren't such a dumb crybaby this wouldn't be happening now would it?" _Well hes not wrong,_ Chenle thought to himself, _I wish I could just...stop feeling its not helping anyone._
Out of his daze Chenle put his hands to his face trying to find a way to look cute or feel good about himself. Chenle uttered "fuck" under his breath and looked for the only thing that could make him happy. He grabbed his joint as well as his lighter from his little jewlery box.
He turned on the shower and made it hot so the smell would be less obvious and smoke would make sense. Chenle inhaled the smoke held it in his mouth thinking about anything everything and everything and exhaled closing his eyes and rocking his head back. Chenle sat himself on the toilet and rested his head on his hand. Chenle began to think (probably the worst thing he could do at this moment) He thought about his fans he thought about how theyd react if they saw him like this. Chenle let out a slight chuckle of sorrow, and tapped his joint into the sink. Chenle stood up and looked in the medicine cabinet, _hydrocodone? oh,for jaemin._ Chenle looked up to the ceiling hoping for some sign from god or someone not to do it.
Chenle looked at the pill bottle, then to the mirror. He let out a heavy breath and turned off the shower and sprayed some cologne to mask the smell. Chenle opened the pill bottle. Chenle whispered to himself "heh what a way to go out, high and by my own hand. finally, i can go." Chenle poured about 16 pills until his hands and swallowed them all, dry. Chenle laid down on the bathroom floor letting it all hit him while letting everything go at the same time.
2. realization.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> jisung didn't understand his actions mattered until it was too late.
Jisung was awoken by a call from his manager. He was confused, as the last time he received a call from them it was when he was told Jaemin wouldn't be participating in the next comeback.
Nevertheless Jisung answered, still a bit confused.
_"Jisung, why haven't you been answering my texts I've been trying to get to you all day?? This isn't a joke get to the hospital now."_
Jisung was still confused, he didn't know what what his manager was talking about.
_"W-what are you talking about? I just woke up I didn't see your messages,"_ Jisung stammered _._
_"I'll explain it to you when you get here Jisung you just need to be at the hospital. I don't how tired you are the press would be angry if you didn't show up."_
Jisung was annoyed. Was there a schedule at the hospital no one told him about?? Surely it wasn't serious enough to awake him?
Jisung called an uber and headed to the hospital, he didn't really know which one it was he just went to the nearest one and hoped it was the right one.
As Jisung's uber pulled into the parking lot Jisung was kind of in shock, there were alot of people there. People with cameras were asking him so many questions their words started to blend together.
When Jisung finally got inside he went to the lobby and texted his manager asking where he was. Not long after, his manager walked out and led him to the elevator.
_"Soo... what's all this about? Is it that serious haha?"_ Jisung asked nervously.
_"Yes, its that serious Jisung. Your band mates about to die and you're acting as if everything's a joke. For god's sake knetz are gonna think you're a brat what's that gonna do for sales-"_
_"Hold on what??? Who's about to die why didn't you tell me?"_ Jisung interrupted, he was kind of offended to be frank.
The elevator door opened before his question was answered and his manager angrily led him to a room.
As the door opened Jisung was completely shocked. It was Chenle. Jisung couldn't completely see him as his mom was hunched over his bed, sobbing.
_"What happened? Did he get into an accident? Why is he here?"_ Jisung asked.
_"He overdosed or some shit like that I dunno. The doctors think its an attempted suicide or something."_ The manager said, surprisingly nonchalantly.
Jisung looked around the room only to be even more upset when he saw Jaemin Jeno and Renjun visibly upset. He was kind of angry at Chenle. Could he not be considerate enough to fucking wait until him and the other members had a fight or something? |
d13b7a0b2418478fbedea7f99fd5cd28 | ['21548e47aa2a428685399e207617efa4'] | You give her a faint smile before heading upstairs. Opening the door to your bedroom, you place your rucksack by your desk and plop down on your bed. You stare up at the ceiling and wonder if your Grandmother will be all right. As much wish your Grandma would stop working and enjoy her retirement, you cant help but love the soft smile she has whenever she talks about the people she house-keeps for or how her eyes light up recounting the adventures and tales that her clients get up to. You can see that they make her feel young again in a way that you could only wish to and you would never want to take that away from her.
You sigh lightly, not wanting to leave the comfort of your warm bed but get up anyway and change into more causal house clothes. Sitting down at your desk you start to unpack your uni folders and curse your professor for giving you such a large project just as schools ending. Exams are completely over for you now, only small bits of coursework left to finish off. You were starting to wind down for the year but no! Your lousy economics teacher just had to decide that you needed a project to top the year off with.
Reaching into the depths of your bag, you pull out the white envelope your professor handed to you that you promptly stuffed into your bag at the end of class, not even looking at. You open it up and start to read the front page of the assignment paper.
“Year Long Business Management Placement and Report” you read out loud carefully, “Year long…?”
Your musings are interrupted by your mother calling your name from downstairs so you quickly stand up and without thinking you place the project in your bag again before slinging it over your shoulder and rushing downstairs to meet with the rest of your family. Sitting next to your younger sister in the car you drowned out her chattering about her favourite kpop group by wondering where you could get a yearlong management placement. Job-hunting was hard enough as it is without having to add in the expectation to get a senior position at 21 on top of it.
What a fun way to start the end of school break…
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So yeah, thank you for sticking with that and any comments/feedback are greatly appreciated!!
2. The Desicion
Arriving at the hospital, you all get out of the car and make your way into the visitors’ entrance. Your mother beelines for the welcome desk and calmly asks for your Grandmothers room before beckoning you to follow her as she makes her way down one of the corridors and down a long hallway.
As you pass room upon room, ward upon ward, you are relived when you arrive outside of an ordinary short-stay hospital room. As you enter you can see your Grandmother sitting upright and awake in the end bed. Your little sister runs forwards and attempts to launch herself upon the hospital bed (if not for your father catching her around the waist before she can and depositing her in a nearby chair). You perch on the windowsill and watch as your mother fusses over your Grandmother before finally sitting down and asking if there has been any more news from the doctors.
Your Grandma simply nods at this and explains, “It was just a common winter cold that brought me in. The doctor said that the affects had been heighted due to my age and physical exhaustion.”
“It’s all that housekeeping you insist on doing!” your mother exclaims, “You really should retire now. I’ve been saying this for years now and this is only a example of why!”
“Jiyeon, you always nag me about this everytime we speak,” your Grandmother sighs, “and I keep telling you, as soon as I find someone capable and willing to manage the business, I will willingly step down. Young people nowadays though, none are interested in housekeeping so it’s so hard to find a suitable successor.”
You hear an indignant scoff from beside you and glance across to see your little sister looking up from her phone where (yet another) kpop video is playing and staring intently at Grandma.
“That’s ridiculous!” she pouts, “Housekeeping is so cool. You always sound so happy when talking about your clients and you get to meet so many new and exciting people!”
Your Grandmother laughs heartily at this but stops when a coughing fit over comes her. After calming down she looks fondly at your younger sister and smiles softly at her, “If only there were people as enthusiastic about this career path as my two wonderful Grandchildren then the business would be safe but it doesn’t seem to be the case…”
You daze out of the conversation and focus blankly up at the clock on the opposite wall, skim reading all of the doctors and nurses names on duty before wandering your gaze across the rest of the mostly empty ward. There’s a cute older couple near the door completing a newspaper word-search together and a sleeping middle-aged man in the bed across from them but apart from that, nada.
Looking into your rucksack you grabbed, you try to find if you have any last bits of coursework to complete whilst your parents are still fussing over your Grandmother and talking to the doctors when you spy the open white envelope and the stapled project paper. Your previous worries come rushing back to you but this time you feel a eureka type moment go off inside your head.
“What if…” you start, “what if I look after the management side of Grandmas’ business whilst she’s recovering?”
You look across to your father, then your Grandma and then your mother. She looks slightly in shock that you would even suggest such a thing but quickly regains her composure. | a07b91a479fb4e358bfadaaef07e2dcb | ['21548e47aa2a428685399e207617efa4'] | “But what about school? You’re only just about to finish your second year, you can’t be thinking about dropping out are you?!” your mother cries out.
You quickly calm her down and pull out the project papers and hand them over.
“It’s a mandatory project that all Business Management students must complete between their second and third years of study.” You explain, “It states that we must take a year out in business at some sort of senior or management position. I’d completely forgotten about it until I opened the envelope.”
Your Grandmother nods along in agreement, “Whilst it’s mot under the best circumstances, this might work. If it’s a year that would give me time to recover, find a successor and finally retire.” She says the last part looking pointed at your mother who looks down at the papers in her hands sheepishly.
“Are you sure about this? Its awfully soon after getting the assignment, surely it would be best to wait and look at options before making your mind up,” your father pipes up, “maybe you should look at positions down the field that you want to pursue as a career, not just what’s convenient.”
Again your sister scoffs and you all look at her, “Nah, you just don’t want the hassle of job hunting do ya?” she says looking straight at you, sucking on a lollipop that she got from who knows where.
You feel flustered at being called out so frankly but cant help but laugh when your Grandma comments that she would have done the exact same thing. Feeling both relieved to have found a solution for both new problems (although temporary for one) you turn to look at your parents and confirm your wish before turning back to your Grandmother.
“I don’t know much about housekeeping but I will definitely be able to keep the management side of things running as smoothly as possible.” You state comfortably. Attending one of South Koreas top universities isn’t just for show, you know.
“Ah nonsense! You’ll pick up the finer details of the art in no time!” your Grandmother jokes.
With the whole group feeling much more relaxed about the upcoming prospects, your parents decide to scavenge the hospital canteen for a possible dinner as it was nearing 7pm, dragging your younger sister along with them. You decide to stay and ask your Grandma more about the business that you will be in charge of for the next year.
“Well not strictly in charge of you see. Your Great Uncle, my brother has been helping run the ship as well. Wouldn’t dare mention that to your mother though, my brother Juwon is even older than me!” your Grandma confides with a slight giggle. “You will just be helping him with admin type jobs as well as checking clients are happy with our service and refilling supplies, nothing too strenuous.”
You visibly relax at this and ask about the types of clients the service caters for. You can briefly remember your Grandmother mentioning something special about them but that’s slipped far into the depths of your memory. Something about them being confidential or high end customers…
“Ah yes,” your Grandma responds, “the customers that I personally house-kept for are well known is the pop culture currently. They felt more comfortable with me being a housekeeper for them rather than someone closer to their age that might turn out to be a crazed fan of some sort. If I remember correctly they are very close to your age, so I see them more of Grandkids than clients”
You laugh gently at the soft look that takes over your Grandmothers face. This is very typical of her, to view people as her own family and thus treat them with such fondness. Your Grandma suddenly looks at you with a curious expression.
“You’re not interested in pop culture are you?” she asks leaning forward towards you. You get slightly worried by the maniacal glint that’s appeared in her eyes. Stuttering out a confirmative response your start to fear for your future. Sighing in relief, your Grandmother relaxes back into her hospital bed and you start to believe that the storm is over before it’s even started.
“I’m going to speak to Juwon and ask him to add their housekeeping to your placement. Bit of work in the field wont do you any harm, ey?” She laughs at your startled expression before relaxing again. “Right that’s sorted then. I’ll email you all the details across when I can get my hands on my laptop and then you can start as soon as possible!”
Your Grandmother seems delighted at this idea but you can only wonder what the future can hold for you housekeeping for clients your age with no previous experience in the business…
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> As always, any comments or feedback are greatly appreciated!
**Author's Note:**
> So yeah, thank you for sticking with that and any comments/feedback are greatly appreciated!! |
3a9c08c9f4ed4d5f8c61e1cc816dfa85 | ['219b27b7fd6a44e4b77bcc4bbab2f942'] | “Give Victor back you crow!” Yurio growled.
“I won’t” Kraehe replied. “Also, Tutu isn’t the only one who has control over this stage.” Kraehe raised his hand horizontally with the surface of the lake.
“What are you-" Yurio asked, then fell, as Kraehe turned the lake back into water again. Then, Kraehe sent black feather daggers raining down upon Yurio.
“NO!” Tutu cried, tears dripping down his face as he saw a pool of red bloom from where Yurio had fallen. He couldn’t lose Yurio, he couldn’t do this without him.
Tutu heard a splash and looked up to see a hand gripping onto the shore. Slowly, Yurio crawled out of the water, his clothes torn to shreds and his body bleeding. He stood up, wobbling.
“I’m sorry Victor,” Yurio breathed. “But I can’t let you do that.” Yurio lifted his knife, and then brought it down on Victor’s sword as hard as he could, and Tutu heard a snap as Victor’s sword broke in two. The pieces of the sword turned into specks of light and then flew away, to who knows where.
Yurio’s eyes fluttered. “Sorry… Tutu,” he whispered and as if in slow motion, he fell backwards into the water, sinking into the depths.
Tutu sobbed, putting his hands over his mouth. He couldn’t do this alone… but he had to. He was the only hope to save Victor now. He had to figure out how to beat Kraehe. A way to tell Victor his feelings without actually saying anything.
Kraehe held out his hand to the heart shard. “Come on out now.” The shard glowed brightly and then the red figure of Victor appeared from it. The feeling of love. Tutu had to get it back.
“Time to speak your words of love to the shard, Tutu,” Kraehe said, smirking. “Now that you’ve found your resolve to vanish.”
“No,” Tutu replied. “I refuse to vanish.”
Tutu pirouetted, turning the lake back into it’s glass surface. Then silently, he stepped out, and began to dance.
“ _I cannot speak words of love to you Victor,”_ Tutu thought to himself as he danced. “ _But I can dance. Surely I can convey my feelings through that as well._ ”
Tutu danced like he never had before, trying to convey his huge feelings of love through his dance. He needed Victor to understand, he needed Victor see. Each step deliberately taken to convey all of the feelings he had to lock away in his heart. The emotions that threatened to spill out every time he looked at Victor.
“So, you mean to convey your feelings through dance to keep from disappearing?” Kraehe chuckled. “Clever of you.” Kraehe leapt down from the island he was standing on, and also began to dance. “Let’s see whose dance will entice the heart shard.”
Yuri almost didn’t notice Kraehe dancing next to him, for he was too lost in his own dance. Too lost in his own emotions, trying to figure out how best to convey them through his movements. However, he knew Kraehe must be giving it his all as well. Kraehe wasn’t really dancing for Victor’s heart like Tutu was. He was dancing just for Victor, for the right to protect him. For some reason, Kraehe wanted to stop the story from advancing, and it seemed as though the crow prince would do anything to get his way.
Tutu suddenly felt the brush of a feather against his arm, and his head whipped around to see that Kraehe had spun next to him.
“You know, you could never hope to win over the prince, you’re just borrowing the power of Prince Tutu. You’re just a sham of a prince, right Yuri?”
Tutu stumbled, falling to one knee. That’s right, he was just… just Yuri. Even more than that, he wasn’t even a boy. He was a piglet. A piglet trying to convince a beautiful prince that he was more than he was. Tutu tried to dance again, to put those thoughts from his mind, to remember why he was dancing, but now every movement he made seemed lost, less full of love and more full of confusion. Kraehe had been aiming to make Tutu falter, and it had worked. Darkness started to fill Tutu’s vision, and he heard Kraehe laugh. Tutu looked up and saw the spirit of the heart shard being drawn to Kraehe.
“Well, it seems as though the heart shard has made it’s choice,” Kraehe smirked, starting to slowly dance with the glowing figure.
“No,” Tutu grimaced. He couldn’t give up. Shaking his head, he stood, staring defiantly at Kraehe. “I won’t give up, because my feelings, are still my own! It doesn’t matter if I’m just using Tutu’s power, I know who I’m using this power for.”
Tutu stood alone, but after a few moments, he began to dance. Kraehe’s eyes widened as he saw just what Tutu was trying to do.
“A pas de deux?” Kraehe wondered, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “A solo pas de deux. How perfect for a wretch like you. I wonder what you’re going to do for the parts you can’t do alone.”
Tutu spun around, arms outstretched, as if reaching towards someone. As he danced, Kraehe’s eyes widened in surprise. It was almost as if… someone was dancing with Tutu. As Tutu moved through the steps of the dance, it was almost possible to see Victor dancing with him.
_“I want you to be here with me.”_
Every move Tutu made was graceful and perfect, his movements radiating his wish for Victor to be by his side, for Victor to dance with him.
_“I want you to smile, I want you to dance with me.”_
A soft smile on his face, Tutu danced, as if being led by someone else. He wasn’t dancing alone. Even though he wasn’t by his side, Tutu felt Victor with him.
“ _I want you to be strong and gentle in supporting me.”_ | 1424417694ac4be58bc8b95c815575ca | ['219b27b7fd6a44e4b77bcc4bbab2f942'] | Chris was suddenly startled by a loud tap at his window. He stood up warily and walked over to the location of the noise. Pulling back the curtain, he saw two let black crows sitting on his windowsill. Initially Chris recoiled back, almost in fear of the birds. However, as the birds kept tapping, Chris, in almost a trance, opened up the window and the two birds hopped into the room, transforming into two beautiful black ballet slippers. Chris, still entranced, stepped into each of the shoes, which quickly ensnared his feet. Like vines covered in thorns the ribbons of the shoes covered his body, wracking Chris in pain until suddenly the pain stopped, and Chris was no more.
“Well well Prince Tutu,” Kraehe muttered to himself. “Seems like you’ve found yourself another heart shard. We can’t have that now can we?” With a smirk Kraehe twirled, whipping up the winds around him and he flew out the window, to where he knew Tutu was waiting.
…
Yuri wiped the classroom window, listening to it squeak as he rubbed them clean. The rest of the day had been pretty uneventful. Ciao Ciao had come into the locker room and saw Chris having a crisis so the teacher had given Chris the day off. Yurio hadn’t shown up to practice either, so Phichit and Victor were the only ones in practice for the special class. At lunch, Phichit had relayed what had happened in practice.
“It was so weird,” Phichit said. “Like, I would say Victor and I are friends, but we don’t really spend time together unless I’m hanging out with Chris. You know me, I can pretty much make friends with anyone, but talking to Victor sometimes is like talking to a brick wall. He gets so focused that he blocks everything else out.”
Yuri finished cleaning the windows and grabbed all his stuff from the classroom to head back to his dorm. As he walked out of the dance building, he saw a boy sitting on a bench in front of the dance building with a large sketchbook. The boy seemed tall, with long arms and legs. He had shaggy light brown hair that stuck up around his face and lightly bobbed as the boy moved his head. Without thinking, Yuri wandered over to the artist. As he got closer the boy looked up and smiled brightly at Yuri.
“Hello there!” the boy said, waving at Yuri. “You’re a ballet student, right?”
“Um, yes,” Yuri replied. “How did you know?”
“I just saw you come out of the building,” the artist smiled, chuckling a bit. “But I’ve also seen you perform once. You were very good!”
“Oh, um, thank you,” Yuri said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Emil Nekola!” the boy said, smiling wide at Yuri. “I’m a student in the art division.”
“Nice to meet you,” Yuri replied. “So, what are you drawing?”
“Oh, well, sometimes I like to draw the ballet students,” the boy said. “Lately I’ve been drawing pictures of Christophe Giacometti from the special class. Do you know him?”
“Yeah, we’re actually friends,” Yuri replied.
“Really? That’s awesome, he’s an amazing dancer,” Emil replied. “If you’re interested, I could show you some of my paintings that I’ve been working on.”
“Oh, sure!” Yuri answered. “Like, now?”
“Why not? No time like the present,” Emil said. Emil quickly gathered up his art supplies and then led Yuri to the art building. Yuri had actually never been in the art building before. From the outside the building was plain brown brick that matched the rest of the school, but on the inside it was almost a different world. The hallways were covered in different paintings and drawings and as Emil led Yuri through the corridors he could see different classrooms filled with more paintings and sculptures and all sorts of art.
Emil finally came to the end of the hallway and opened a door. “This is my workspace! I share it with a few other students, but they have all probably gone home by now.”
Yuri followed Emil into the workroom and his mouth fell agape. The workroom was split into four sections, one per student Yuri guessed. Emil’s workspace was set in one corner of the room and it was covered in drawings and paintings. The space seemed like controlled chaos. All of the art was pristine and beautiful while the areas around them were kind of messy. The floor was covered with a paint spattered cloth. Jars were filled with water of all different colors after Emil had apparently washed them off. Art supplies were scattered all around. But Yuri almost didn’t notice because the art Emil made was beautiful… however, as Yuri looked, it was apparent that all of the art was of Chris. There were sketches and paintings all over the workspace, and they were all of Chris.
“You really like to draw Chris,” Yuri stated. “He’s a beautiful dancer so I can see why he’d make a good subject.”
Emil’s happy demeanor seemed to instantly vanish. He gripped the front of his shirt. “I… I can’t really explain it myself,” Emil said, looking almost in pain as he laid eyes upon his artwork. “I usually like to draw other things, like landscapes, or still life’s. Recently though, every time I try to draw something besides Chris it hurts me. I don’t know what to do.”
As if on cue, the pendant around Yuri’s neck glowed bright red. Yuri backed quickly into the hallway, and soon he was transformed into Prince Tutu. Tutu flitted into the workspace and beckoned to Emil.
“Please Emil, come dance with me,” Tutu requested.
Emil looked up at Tutu in shock. “W-who are you?”
“I am Prince Tutu,” he explained with a bow.
“Prince Tutu,” Emil breathed. He shook his head. “I can’t dance with you, I’m an artist not a dancer.” |
bec43a61dd6c4448b5f0cbc9feed658e | ['21a0b74062b444ea890156996881c18d'] | Youngjae scrambles up, not really off him, but enough to tug on his shirt and pants. It’s a combined effort to get them off, but afterwards Youngjae is right where he was again, straddling his thighs, now with no clothing in between their bare erections rubbing at one another and it’s just awesome. Jaebum heaves out a happy moan, curling his fingers around Youngjae’s waist to keep him there. And because he just doesn’t get to touch wherever he wants.
When Youngjae leans away to pull open the drawer on his nightstand and rummage through it, he takes the chance to stroke up his chest and tease a nipple, evoking his breath to stutter and hips to twitch. Something falls onto the pillow next to Jaebum’s head when Youngjae returns and urgently leans down for a rough kiss.
Jaebum groans into his mouth in frustration, once again restricted to wrap around his back. He runs his thumbs down his sides, down to his hipbones, feeling taught muscles underneath the soft layer of skin and flesh. Their chests are connected tightly, Youngjae without shame to lie on top of him with his full weight. There’s heat and pressure and he feels so _close_ . He just wishes he could do more.
Youngjae fumbles, shifts, they moan in unison. Jaebum hears the pop of the bottle cap right by his ear and it takes him a comically long time to process.
“No!” he gasps against Youngjae’s wet lips, distracted by how his tongue looks to play. “Let me.” He insists, blindly grasps for his hands. They make a mess. The lube smears everywhere when Jaebum attempts to scoop it onto his own fingers from Youngjae’s palm. He almost expects him to protest with how eager he seems to stay in charge, but he lets him.
Jaebum has to stretch his arm as far as he can to manage to get it down to his butt. Youngjae cooperates, scooting forward just so. Jaebum can trace his cock rubbing up his stomach as he does, his own still tightly confined with Youngjae’s balls dragging up the length. “Gosh, fuck…” He grumbles, searching jittery for Youngjae’s rim, everything just too tight and hot.
When Jaebum squeezes one plush cheek in his left hand the kiss finally breaks, if it can still be called a kiss, that sloppy mess of tongues and saliva. Wet breath hits his neck when Youngjae buries his face there, panting in his ear and arms stretching over their heads to leans against the headboard. It’s not necessary in this position that Jaebum spreads his cheeks, but he does it anyway, exposing all of Youngjae’s private parts even though nobody gets to see.
He rubs the slicked up fingers of his right hand over his hole, hearing and feeling how his breath hitches. “You’re so sensitive.” He murmurs, still in awe about it, relishing in the quiet whimpers. “And you sound so amazing…” Youngjae ruts his hips in response, muscles flexing.
Jaebum finally breaches his entrance with his middle finger, pushing inside as far as he can, which is not very far in this awkward angle. But that doesn’t matter, because Youngjae’s reaction is intense nonetheless, his moan loud so close to his hear and hole clenching around the intruder. “Jesus…” Jaebum mutters under his breath, adding the second finger immediately. He wonders if he forgot just how tight Youngjae is or if he wasn’t before, as his entrance encloses both his digits and he moans some more.
Jaebum is glad that Youngjae was so generous with the lube, his fingers slick enough to mimic a thrusting motion, even if shallow, but it’s enough. Enough for Youngjae to whine at his ear, wet lips grazing the skin and his restless hips rubbing forth and back, creating a friction that is the one thing keeping Jaebum sane.
“You’re so tight…” He sputters, voice raspy and fingers digging in and out the sweet heat with a slick noise. Youngjae tears his head away, just a notch, just enough to place his lips right against the shell of his ear and he gasps. “I didn’t…” He speaks, entirely out of breath and disrupted by lewd noises. “Since we dated… Didn’t ever…” Jaebum groans, fingers curling in, tightening against his will. If Youngjae really means what he…
“Nothin’ up there myself.” Youngjae moans. “Wanted to be tight for you.”
Jaebum’s eyes shut close and his body convulses. “Shit Youngjae…” He groans. “Don’t say that…” “Let me…” Youngjae breathes, skittling further up subtly, maybe unconsciously, giving Jaebum the chance to push his fingers a little deeper. “It’s my way to.. hnngh…” He tenses and gasps. “… to make you feel desired.” Jaebum. Can’t. Even.
He’s not sure how to handle all the strange quirks and changes in personality that Youngjae throws upon him. He doesn’t want Youngjae to put himself down like that, he really doesn’t, but he’s so turned on by now he’s beginning to lose any sense of propriety. “You don’t need to.” He answers and repeats it a couple of times, sliding his free hand up his back, never tired of feeling the silky skin under his fingertips and presses them together with the flat of his palm between his shoulders. It isn’t necessary, but he feels he needs to do his own part in keeping them close and tight.
“I want to.” Youngjae whispers in response, tongue darting out to lick at Jaebum’s ear and have him keen. He takes his arms back down, elbows dig into the pillow when he cradles Jaebum’s head and lifts it into a passionate kiss. His hips push back onto his fingers and down, squashing his achingly hard cock against his stomach, moans getting caught in their mouths and Jaebum doesn’t know whose they are. | b8d9f6d32ea544c1bd9a2b79bb2a5977 | ['21a0b74062b444ea890156996881c18d'] | J aebum is mad. Mostly, to be honest, he’s drunk. Like, really, shit-faced drunk. And it makes him angry. People do stupid things when they’re drunk and people do stupid things when they’re angry. It could be a catastrophe to be both. But to Jaebum’s luck his anger seems to cancel his intoxication out.
Now that he’s drunk and the atmosphere is so loose, so fun, so full of memories and past happiness it’s impossible to ignore the heat. Impossible to ignore Mark’s shining eyes and canine smile. Impossible to ignore how he leans on him when he laughs. How their skin connects and their souls reach out for one another. That’s the stupid thing people do when they’re drunk. Fuck their exes. Jaebum knows he shouldn’t, but that’s not the reason why he doesn’t. He wants to, he yearns, but he’s too angry.
Yes they’re having fun, yes they’re laughing and reminiscing and getting wasted like the teenagers they once were. But every time a particular name drops, Jaebum feels a terrible jab at his heart. Now, heartache would make you sad when you were sober, but he isn’t sober, so right then and there it just makes him angry. Because it doesn’t _have_ to be. The painful stabs could be avoided easily, if Youngjae was just there. The furious heat in his guts distracts him, as it grows, from Mark’s fleeting touches and heated looks.
When the bar closes and compliments them out, Jaebum makes sure to place all of his babies in a taxi, even Mark. He has that much left. There’s not resistance, no discussion. Jinyoung places his delirious boyfriend in the backseat. They take Bam Bam, too and Mark happily allows Jackson to pull him into the back of another taxi. They don’t live far from each other, Jackson promises and Jaebum insists that he’s fine on his own.
To Jaebum’s dismay, his intoxication can’t cancel out his anger in reverse. He fumbles around on his phone while walking down the street. Or maybe wobbling more than anything. But he still presses the call button and holds the phone to his ear. It’s the middle of the night and it’s not illogical that nobody picks up, but it makes him angrier. He calls again. Then again. He lets it ring until it goes to voicemail, then he hangs up and tries again. He doesn’t know how many times he tried, but at some point -Jaebum walked at least three blocks down the road- someone picks up on the other end. A sleepy voice sounds in his ear. “Huh?” It makes, simply.
“Oi, you!” Jaebum yells. “Where were you?!” “What?” The voice gives back sleepily. “You!” He scolds. “Listen, you lil’ shit! What ‘re you thinkin’?! Not showin’ upp to meet-t. Tch. Your friends, eh?” There’s some shuffling and grumbling. He thinks he hears a door, but it could be anything. Then. “Jaebum-Hyung?” Youngjae asks, more clearly now. “Well, duh!” Jaebum makes. “Where were you!” Youngjae ignores him. “Hyung, it’s four in the morning.” “Pffh.” Jaebum gives back. “Don’t care. You ain’t come. You said you come.” A sigh. “Are you drunk?” Jaebum snorts in response. “’f course.” “Hyung, let’s talk tomorrow when you’re sober.” Youngjae suggests. “Go to sleep now.”
Jaebum shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! I’m come now!” “What?” Youngjae asks and a less intoxicated person would hear the irritation in his voice. “Coming to you now.” Jaebum elaborates intelligently. “On my way.” “Hyung.” There’s a slight pause. “Where are you?” Jaebum ponders over that, just now realizing that he doesn’t really know. “Dunno.” He admits. “’m walking.” He should have taken a taxi, too, but he just now thinks about that. Another sigh. “Okay, stop now.” Jaebum does, halts mid-step and almost falls. “Stay right where you are and text me your location. I’ll pick you up.” That’s good. “Good.” Jaebum says, nodding and sinks down onto the curb. “Right. Good.”
There’s more rustling and Youngjae says “Stay there.” Again before he hangs up. Jaebum obediently sends his GPS location, then sets his phone onto his lap and waits. His world spins and there’s a humming in his ears that makes waiting hard. Hence he doesn’t know if it took long or not long at all for Youngjae to arrive. But he does and that’s the most important thing. He climbs out of his car in loose, shabby sweatpants and T-Shirt and Jaebum has never been more ecstatic about seeing someone before. He scrambles to his feet and falls into his arms.
Youngjae huffs. “You’re such an idiot, Hyung.” He scolds. “Gosh you’re drunk. Get in the car, I’ll drive you home.” Jaebum shakes his head. “No.” He adds for emphasis. “I’m coming to you.” He tugs at Youngjae’s sleeve. “Why?” His brows knit, visible even in the gloomy street lights. “You… I don’t know.” He really doesn’t know. “You didn’t came.” He tugs some more. “I need to scold you.” “Fine.” Youngjae surprisingly caves in. “Get in the car.”
Jaebum climbs onto the passengers’ seat and waits for Youngjae to start the engine and pull back into the street. He glances at him from the side, watches his eyes trained on the road. “Why didn’t you come?” He wants to know. “I’m here?” Youngjae answers absently. Jaebum huffs. “Earlier. To meet. With the others?” Youngjae glances at him for a second before looking away again. Then shrugs. “Couldn’t.” Jaebum’s jaw clenches in anger. Leftovers from before he called Youngjae. “What have I done wrong?!” He pushes out between his teeth. And receives no answer. |
941512f9b4d043799458b9b32546d3ab | ['21acc63337bf4120977da273da3b0405'] | It takes a bit effort for Roderich to open his eyes. It is not the Baroque ceiling that he thought he would see - just a plain white one. Turning his head around to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand, it shows six thirty in the morning. The white blinds reflect unpleasant white light into the room. He is underneath a blanket, wearing a blue button-up pajamas, and no pants for sure. He wants to get up, but he feels restricted.
Gilbert is still asleep and holding his hand.
Snuggling back into the blanket, he frowns and laughs silently to himself. It’s this dream again, getting more vivid each time he thinks of it, to the point he wishes the dream to last longer, so he get to see the grand future of Gilbert as his knight, the prosperity of a Habsburg-Hohenzollern Union, a revitalised Holy Roman Empire, a peacekeeping Central European dual hegemon…
Even if he has the opportunity to return to the past, to tell the eighteenth century self that it would be his best interest to marry Prussia, he will only be dismissed by his young prideful self as a lunatic clown for spreading rumours that a male heir is impossible, to be tried for advocating a dangerous agenda to advance Protestant interest…
If his modern mentality intervenes, this world will certainly have changed, into an unknown mess that Roderich can no longer predict its course.
But the neoclassical world was shaped that way - filled with religious bigots by modern standards, superstition, obsession with prestige and glory, fractions, cabinet wars. Given what was set during the time period, and given the same mindset - his eighteenth century self will repeatedly make the same choice that leads to what Gilbert and Roderich end up today.
They are now covered with scars that are caused by mutual stabbing. But they are also wrapped in a blanket, lying with each other on bed peacefully on a warm Sunday morning. There is nothing wrong with that.
**Author's Note:**
> As you can tell, “going back in time” means that Roderich is exploring the 18th Century with a modern mindset. That is why it appears like he knows everything, what will go on, what will happen in the future, with a not-as-zealously-Catholic-as-he-should-have-been mindset.
>
> The Habsburg court was enormous (often up to 1000 persons), and it doesn’t help that they loved heavy furniture, AND moving all around Austria throughout the year. There was special department just to move all the furniture, and as the monarchy collapsed in 1918, the excess of furniture in the court were occasionally sold, or to be kept in the Hofmobiliendepot, the court furniture museum (used to be a depot) on Mariahilferstraße. You literally can find furniture described in this fic in the museum. And it is true that civil servants in Austria really can rent out these furniture for a modest fee if they want! For rooms in Hofburg, most of them change in style over time. Nowadays… all you can see (as public) would be Sisi style rooms. After all, Hofburg is the official residence of the Austrian president, so there are tons of rooms not open to the public, and not to our knowledge.
>
> The accounts and the details of the birth day of Maria Theresa is accurate to the hour! Around 7:30am, the cannon blasted and the bells rang in Vienna to announce the birth of Maria Theresia, and at 8pm there was a christening in the temporarily transformed Rittersaal, where notabilities walked in train to see the heir apparent in the hands of her sponsor, which is the Pope (represented by proxy). The sentiment as well - no one was really happy about the baby not having something in between the thighs.
>
> The famous Michaelerplatz wasn’t there yet! So is Karlsplatz and other Baroque stuff. I had fun researching on the difference of geography between 1717 and 2014. The reason why Graben is “gentrifying” is because it used to be a marketplace, but as time moves on, the usage as a marketplace was limited by the court, and it gradually developed into a promenade filled with expensive shoppes.
>
> The kneeling part is just a headcanon of mine. It is symbolic to me that an embodiment absolutely cannot make themselves kneel in front of someone they don’t recognise as their overlord. I use that to deal with succession disputes.
>
> Roderich is really maxing out here, but thanks to future experience he knows how to max up himself. It takes about 7 hours (in a mild traffic) to drive from Vienna to Berlin (~60mph/90kph). Assume similar distance back in 18th century. A horse galloping max is around 30mph/45kph. There usually were coaching inns around 7~10 miles apart. Mathematically he can get there in around 15 hours, but there should be down time, so it is calculated at the conservative number of 20 hours.
>
> While geography in Vienna remains relatively unchanged (already a metropolitan city by then), Berlin still had to go through years of development. It wasn’t until 1701 that the City Palace of Berlin, located at the modern Museum Island of Cölln, was finally merged into Berlin. The Simultaneum refers to the (now closed) Friedrichswerder Church. Old Berlin is what we know as the eastern part of Berlin, while the affluent Charlottenburg district and Unter Der Linden and Friedrichstrasse and etc, the current expensive landmark in Berlin, weren’t even a thing in 1717. Berliner Dom was there, but I couldn’t mention it because it was behind the palace. It is great that the City Palace (which was demolished during World War II….they are trying to rebuild it for some reason) is along the embankment of River Spree, so it is relatively easy to find. What we consider as “Old Berlin” today really isn’t the Berlin back in the 18th CE. Just a very tiny, almost town-ish city.
>
> Because Saxony and Bohemia were sandwiched in the middle, their cities and towns have become what most battles occurred between Prussia and Austria. Silesia was part of Bohemia. And for the longest time Prussia wanted to annex Saxony (which had been quite neutral), but it couldn’t happen due to Austrian intervention.
>
> It was known that Little Fritz had a thing for playing drums when he was three to four years of age. Later he got mandated by his father to do military training, but that’s something happening in the future. Also in the future, Fritz did mention his intention to marry Mary Theresia, provided that he didn’t have to change his faith. Maria Theresia’s father, too, expressed his wish for his daughter to marry Fritz, but because of religious reasons, and Theresia’s love for Franz Stephan, the marriage couldn’t work out.
>
> That is why religion remains as part of the themes here. Given Roderich’s overly religious mindset, the marriage wouldn’t have happened anyway. Thus, this is my Roderich muse’s biggest regret - if he really can regret about it. | 2ab4a5e21054411ba447090dcfc1a8bf | ['21acc63337bf4120977da273da3b0405'] | Hof Hauptbahnhof
**Author's Note:**
> My first attempt at Bavaria x Saxony.
>
> As usual, Bavaria = Theodor (Theo), Saxony = Adalbert (Adal).
A dim late-Beidermeier style building can get rather eerie at night, Theo notes to himself. Lately, the main station has largely turned into a goods transit location despite being most DB train’s final stop. Yes - there are no services at night - but that should not be the major reason why the administration doesn’t care to make the place look a bit lighter. Theo wonders if the mechanics or the unfortunate passengers scare themselves periodically during their visit.
Not until some higher ups recently ordered the station to be fixed did the station manager bother to do anything about it. They also say the station is about to regain its former independence as a passenger transit station. Officials say a lot of things but they might not really mean it.
Ludwig called him up a few days ago that he wanted him tag along with the politicians on behalf of him tonight when the East German refugee train arrives at Hof Haupbahnhof. The train got delayed for a few days and that was about to ruin Ludwig’s perfectly and uncompromisingly packed schedule. He also demanded Theo to wear a tracht because it would make him look more…Bavarian.
"Heh," Theo snorted and gave out a good laugh, "not until you promise to-" and Ludwig hung up.
God damn little freaking brat-
Theo came to a conclusion that life in Bonn must be so boring that Ludwig’s sanity has blown away.
Finally, after all those days of delay - the train arrives and enters the southern halve of the main station. About eight thousand passengers flooded the station as soon as the police unlocked the sealed train, and as much as the station was enlarged previously, it is still difficult to absorb so many people at once. Some guy comes up with the smart idea to allow refugees to use the northern halve of the station as well. While that was a rather….symbolic move, at least the Bavarian-south platform is not as sickeningly crowded. Theo is now able to wave his hands like a mascot and look like… a Bavarian.
The West German authorities try to get a little festivity event going to greet the newcomers, but they apparently overestimate the size of the station, so it is hastily cancelled. Instead, the people are to be transferred to housing facilities for the night.
At the waiting room, formally the royal waiting chamber where the festivity is supposed to be held at, Theo stretches his shoulder and finds a seat. Inadvertently he leaks out a smile - the coat of arms of Bavaria and Saxony in the forecourt and in the main hall, the beaten-up storage sheds - those are relatively new but nostalgic things.
The sound of steps becomes rather obvious with no one but Theo in the waiting room. A few seconds later, there appears a solemn officer with blond, long hair in grey-green uniform walking towards the Bavarian.
Theo rolled his eyes, but it was soon replaced by a wiggling smirk. “Why the hell are you here? Get out, go back.”
The officer stops about few metres away, crossing his arm and tiled his head with a huge frown on his face. “Really.” He replies in Saxonian. “That is the first thing you say to me after all those years.”
"Yeah really, why not?" Theo leans back and laughs rather loudly. "I have said to you many things during all those years."
"I must have said to you that you look ridiculous in a tracht. Especially with your current body build."
"I must also have said to you that you look stupid in this police uniform. It’s green - not you. And that hat. What a waste of your hair."
"No, you haven’t said that to me before." The officer takes of his hat, and his emerging smile is confident. "I won."
The Bavarian snorts, getting up from his seat and walking forward with his head shaking in amusement disbelief. “Pst- Ah, you, pretending to be a police holding off the protesters at Dresden, and then run off like that.”
"What can I not do- except to make Gilbert work lesser?" The officer sighs in good relief, remaining at his current position. "I cannot allow that to happen."
"Well then, that’s my motto too, to make Ludwig work more than I do-" At least Ludwig did something good by forcing him to be the mascot for the night. With a grin, Theo closes up the distance and tugs him close, embracing the officer tightly with both arms.
"Oh you arsehole- Welcome back."
"It’s Adalbert you di-"
"It’s not much of a difference."
**Author's Note:**
> \- The town, Hof, is at the border of Bavaria, very close to Saxony. Hof the main station is the important final station of the old Saxon-Bavarian Railway.
>
> \- The Royal Saxon State Railways used to occupy the northern halve of the station, while the Royal Bavarian State Railways occupied the southern halve.
>
> \- On 21st October 1989, a group of East German citizens, who pleaded to go to West Germany at the FDR embassy in Prague, arrived at Hof in a sealed train. German politicians were there to welcome their arrival.
>
> \- There were about ten thousand protesters outside Dresden station trying to hop onto the train.
>
> \- Around that time, West Germans tried to cross the checkpoint to have a day trip at East Berlin. Aw, how adorable yet silly. Ludwig must be there. |
746f0aeda542418f81c0ebee994507be | ['21aebb9525554d728c1c63e4909f3795'] | Cassian raised a brow at that, turning to look at bull with a small smirk. Waiting. Waiting to see how Bull will react or if he will say something about that. Would he see it as disrespect? Arihris looked to Krem who didn’t even seemed phased by what he said. This was natural between them. Her thoughts were concluded when she heard it.
Bulls chuckle as Krem walked away, and Cassian only nodded then moved to sit next to Bull.
“So… you’ve seen us fight,” he started. “We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”
So blunt and forward with his words. Maybe he already knows that he will be hired? “How much is this going to cost me, exactly?” Cassian asked.
“Wouldn’t cost you anything personally. Unless you want to buy drinks later,” he winked at Cassian. Arihris looked to Vivienne who was shaking her head with a small scowl. “Your ambassador - err, what’s her name? - Josephine? We’d go through her and get the payments set up.” Cassian was debating it with a small shrug balancing the options. Bull cleared his throat. “The gold will take care of itself, don’t worry about that,” he reassured.
“All that matters is that we’re worth it.”
He leaned back crossing his arms as he looked over to Bulls army. He was nodding at his men. Arihris curiously looked over at them. They seemed capable. They were a sense of friendship among them, but something didn’t seem right. Bull.
“The Chargers seem like an excellent company,” Cassian said with a smile.
“They are,” Bull said proudly. “But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard? I’m your man. Whatever it is, demons, dragons… the bigger, the better.” Then the moment that they seemed to be waiting for. “And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Cassian tilt his head.
“It’s a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically.” He stumbled a bit like he was hesitating with telling him.. “Or well… we’re spies.”
“Wait, all of you work for these Ben-Hassrath guys?”
“No, just me.”
“Do they know you’re a Qunari spy?”
Arihris glared at Cassian, this wasn’t a good idea. She stepped over to Cassian looking he nodded up at her. Then looking to Bull, waiting for his answer.
“Yeah. It’s of no matter to them. Doesn’t interfere with what we do, or how good we are at it,” he shrugged like it wasn’t big deal.
“What do the Ben-Hassrath want?”
“They’re concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening.”
Arihris was in disbelief at how open he was about being a spy. Being spied on? Would that be all of them or just Cassian? What would get told and what would not? She glared at bull with a scowl. Looking to Cassian she wanted to ask if this was the best idea.
“So you want to get paid by the Inquisition, and spy on the Inquisition? How is that exactly going to work?” Cassian argued.
The damn manipulator was expecting his argument. “I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents from all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”
“You’re a qunari spy, and you just… told me? That’s not what a spy is supposed to do, is it?” Cassian added.
“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad,” he said grimly. “Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”
“You still could have hidden what you are,” Cassian shrugged as he countered.
“From something called the Inquisition?” he scoffed. “I’d have been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right upfront from me.”
“What would you send home in these reports of yours?” He asked suspiciously.
“Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that’ll compromise your operations,” he assured her. “The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart,” he continued, a tad bitterly. “You let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”
Hiring Iron Bull could potentially lead to a Qunari invasion. She glared at Cassian. This was not a good idea. Cassian shouldn’t hire this guy.
“What’s in these Ben-Hassrath reports you’re offering to share?” He asked. Doesn’t she remember the Qunari had tried taken over Kirkwall. What if they tried to launch a full-scale attack against Thedas?
“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything,” he replied. “Alone, they’re not much. But if your spymaster is worth a damn, she’ll put ‘em to good use.”
Cassian raised his brows catching on immediately. “She?” He questioned.
The Iron Bull chuckled tilting his head with a small smirk. “I did a little research. Plus, I’ve always had a weakness for redheads,” he mentioned, waggling his brows. What a dog.
“I see, well I declared you hired.”
“Wait... What?” Arihris whispered looking to Cassian pulling him aside. “Are you sure? You are putting all of us at risk. You don't even want to think this over?” She hissed.
“We would be getting information from them as well. It’s fair.”
She sighed looking to Bull, he gave her a quizzical look. She rolled her eyes looking to Cassian.
“If you think it’s best.”
Cassian stepped back to Bull extending his hand with a grin. “Excellent.” he said, and shook her hand. “Krem!” he boomed out. “Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!” He turned back to Cassian. “I’ll ride back with you, if that’s alright.” | 7f4c1a76d02645fc828bca734c9aaae8 | ['21aebb9525554d728c1c63e4909f3795'] | She nodded stepping up on her tiptoes she leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. A small smile on hers. “I will not lose this.” she promised.
“Tease.” he huffed, his cheeks turning a dark red.
She giggled moving over to sunbeam she turned placing one foot in the saddle. He moved over to help her onto the horse, shaking his head at her.
“You better come back from this trip able to mount and dismount your horse.” he laughed.
“No promises.” she winked.
“Lets move!” Cassian called out leading the way once again.
“Be safe Ser Barris.”
“You as well.”
She looked back at the village of Haven, Solas didn’t come say goodbye. She bit her lip a bit disheartened at that. He has been avoiding her at every chance he can. It hurt. Even in the fade he avoided her. The thought sadden her. She doesn’t know what she did to warrant such treatment.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So I based this off how I personally played Inquisition. I went to the storm coast before meeting with Fiona just cause i wanted to see the new area before Redcliff.
27. Unplanned Conversations
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Road trips always have the best conversations
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Enjoy <3
>
> Any Elven is in italics.
Clicking her tongue sunbeam followed behind Sera and Blackwall. She sighed pulling her hair back into a high ponytail, she didn’t have time this morning to braid it back properly. She stretched with a yawn as they rode.
She could hear Cassian and Sera from the back of the group. Loud and trading rogue stories that her elf ears caught in on. Something about a beehive, jar, and a party. That does not sound like a pleasant party she thought. Looking to Madame De Fer.
“Lady Vivienne.” she spoke getting her attention.
“Yes my dear?”
“You study as a Knight-enchanter correct?”
“What an interesting question. Yes, I do.”
“I am curious on the methods, a lot of it reminds me of Arcane Warriors. Elven Champions would be a common way to describe them. Do you know how the spells have been adapted from that?”
“I am surprised, not many draw the two parallels.”
“I am just curious on how one would learn.”
“I'm afraid learning might be lost on you my dear, training for that should start a bit younger.”
Ouch rude. Considering Knight-Enchanter was just a step down from the Arcane Warriors. She rolled her eyes with a small laugh.
“Underestimate much?” She said, her pride getting the best of her.
“Pardon?”
“I was only curious on how one would learn an art that has been lost. Though I suppose it’s close enough to the original art form, but it will always be a second rate imitation.”
Blackwall spoke up with a huff. “I hate not understanding Mages."
“I apologize Warden Blackwall, I wasn’t trying to exclude you.” She smiled at him.
He laughed it off shaking his head, raising his hand in apology.
“I just wish I could follow along so I know when an argument is taken place.”
“There was no argument, darling. She asked for advice in something that she has no skill for.” Vivienne dared to say.
That retort made her roll her eyes, laughing at the absurd tone she took with her. “Whatever you say, _ my dear _ .”
“Little does she know.” She looked to blackwall with a smirk and a wink.
“And do you have the skill for this knight-enchanter thingy?” He asked.
“Warden Blackwall my people invented it. I have more than skill for it. I have done it, I just wanted to know how the circle was teaching this... cheap copy.” Her smirk grew looking to him.
“Cheeky.”
“I have been told that. Tell me Warden Blackwall have you met Lyra? Sorry... She has a title now doesn’t she? Warden Commander.”
“The hero of Fereldan?”
“Yeah, I get you were in the woods training recruits, but from what Lyra told me in the past she would have had to be there for your... thing.” she smiled.
“I did not have the pleasure.”
“Shame... She would like you.” She shrugged.
There was a moment where he hesitated. "I do not think she would." he admitted. That made her look over at him, curious on why he would say something like that. The look in his eyes, wistful and a hint of something else. Shame.
They fell into silence, she was getting occasional glances from Blackwall or Cassian, even Sera. Vivienne kept to herself no doubt insulted by hearing what she said to Blackwall, she wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. She wasn’t an enchanter to the empress Celene, but she had knowledge to be one if she so chose.
Without realizing it she was riding next to Sera who looked to be ignoring her for the most part, which was fine with her. She didn’t much care for the twit. Though when it became too much she glared at the elf who only smirked at her.
“You know with that fancy hair of yours and staff you look like a dalish elf?” she chipped in.
Annoyance. She gripped tight on the reins. She wanted to ignore the elf, but the look on Cassian’s face pleaded with ‘just give her a chance’.
“Should I self cut my hair with a blunted knife and break my staff over my knee to impress you?”
“Would you do that?”
“Obviously not.”
“Bluffer. So you an that templar right? Any steamy bits?”
“Me and Ser Barris? Hardly.” She gasped
“Wait Ser Barris, I thought you were seeing scruffy Cullen?”
“Pardon?” She hissed.
“There’s been talk of you two arguing then silence. Almost like-”
“Absolutely not. How distasteful. There’s no steam of any kind and even if there was it wouldn’t be your damn business.” |
327a65c16cff4ad2be5c518fc38b1f07 | ['21d491fc06484605a47769021b40c0e8'] | “Be for me, like rain, the getting out of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-lust of intentional indifference.” Something inside of him froze and broke and set on fire all at once, and his hands went up to cover hers on his face, eyes trained on her, even as her thumb slid down to press into his lower lip.
“Be wet,” she said, “with a decent happiness.”
She waited for a heartbeat, and then two, and he realized she was done and starting to look nervous at his lack of reaction. So, as she started to pull away he pulled her in close, grabbed her, and kissed her soundly.
He kissed her to show her he understood, and he covered her like a rain cloud, praising her, licking her, covering every inch in honor of the closest thing he would ever get to a declaration out of her. He tugged her thighs apart and made several declarations of his own between them.
Saoirse would grow, become educated, date, and maybe marry one day.
Molly would never marry him, but she would stay at his side, like a deer beside a wolf, and as long as he didn’t snap his jaws too sharply, she wouldn’t bolt away into the deep, dark forest before him.
It wasn’t a perfect existence, it would need constant work and negotiating, but he would never, ever be lonely again.
As he buried himself, body and soul, inside of Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty found he wouldn't have it any other way.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you all so much for staying with me through this story! This is the biggest fic I've made to date, and the first large one that I've finished. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it and reading your lovely comments. Thank you all!
>
> PS- The poem Molly recites to Jim is one of my favorites: The Rain by Robert Creeley. Really lovely. | 2ee2af93a6c04867a838fe66b6bd445d | ['21d491fc06484605a47769021b40c0e8'] | Applying pressure to show her exactly what kind of person she was.
Even if he died now, it felt like that would be his final victory.
Laying him down on the floor, Molly felt exhaustion settle over her like a shroud. One more thing, because she couldn’t risk any kind of sleeping charm with the sleeping potion in his veins and the remains of a _Crucio_ running over his nerves.
Hating herself, she touched the tip of her wand to his collar, and then dragged a fine silver chain to the middle of the floor, where she used a sticking charm to hold it into place. Easily undone, but not by him. He’d rip up the floor before that chain would give. Making it long enough to let him get up and eat the food she’d left out, she added an unbreakable charm and a detection spell, to alert her when he woke up and started to move. The sleeping potion should keep him out for long enough for her to get a decent night’s sleep as well.
Molly grabbed herself a vial of Dreamless Sleep and trudged up to shower and bed, Toby silent as a shadow on her heels.
* * *
Her wand buzzed ten hours later, and Molly reached from under the covers to tap it, then quietly listened to the rustling from downstairs.
She heard the exact moment Moriarty realized how short the chain was, and his curse and thump as it pulled him down to the ground. She listened to the delicate sound of the chain as it was rattled, pulled and otherwise abused. Closing her eyes, she heard the scrape of china as he ate the food she’d left out yesterday.
She also heard the crash as he shattered the flatware against a wall.
He started shouting, “Molly Hooper! My little witch! Molly-my-Bell, I want to finish playing our game! Quid pro quo, remember? Don’t you want to find out what’s going to happen to the baby Watson? And since you have magic and all, is it alright if I just relieve myself on this nice couch I didn’t sleep on?”
Molly dragged herself out of bed and flew down the stairs, nightgown trailing after her.
Moriarty’s hand was on the zipper of his pants when she made it to the landing, his eyebrow quirked.
“Can I use the restroom, love? Maybe take a shower, freshen up. Make myself ready for another day of fun and games?”
Silently, Molly flicked her wand and the end of the chain flew from the floor to her hand. She fiddled with the end for a moment, then touched it to the tip of her wand. It stayed, and she gave it an experimental flick. The chain started shortening, withdrawing into her wand and forcing Moriarty to walk towards her.
When he got within arms reach, she flicked it again to stop it. He looked down at her, hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes hooded (pupils reactive, no longer bloodshot, his face seemed to be working just fine and his motor functions were back, if his gate was little uneven) and he whispered, “Have you always wanted me on a leash, little witch?”
Glaring at him, she turned on her heel and marched up the stairs, forcing him to keep pace or trip.
Once in the bathroom, she gestured to the toilet and crossed her arms.
He stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“If you think I’m turning my back on you for one second, you have another thing coming. If you have to go, then go. I’ve seen it before, remember? When you lied to me and I slept with you? Remember that, _Jim?_ I wasn’t impressed then and I’ll try to restrain myself this time.” Molly leaned back against the wall and rubbed her eyes.
“Little witch, if I remember correctly, I _impressed_ you three times in a row, but suit yourself,” whistling a jaunty tune, he turned around and used the facilities.
After washing his hands, he pointed at the shower. “I want to use that. I’m filthy and I hate it and you owe me for almost killing me and destroying my property.”
Well, she couldn’t argue there. “I would prefer you to smell a bit cleaner. Let me see what I have for you to wear.”
She started to walk and was pulled short by Moriarty planting his feet, a stubborn look crossing his face. “Magic, right? If I do recall, you can just flick your stick and make things nice and clean again, yes? Then be a doll and do my laundry, little witch.” His voice was absolutely poisonous.
Smiling sweetly, Molly deftly palmed the silver chain with one hand and pointed her wand at him with the other. “I’ll do one you one better,” and she sent a powerful cleaning charm over him. It burrowed under his clothes, scraped along his skin and got rid of sweat, blood and all manner of filth. Much like being licked by a large kneazle tongue. “There. Nice and fresh, no need for a shower. Gratitude would be nice, but I’ll settle for the continuation of our game. Come along, Jim.”
Tossing the end of the chain up and catching it with her wand, she dragged him downstairs.
* * *
Breakfast was a strangely domestic scene. The larder provided jam and toast, with soft boiled eggs in egg cups and a pot of fresh tea. |
054ea8ab0e40414bb78c97ded7625d86 | ['21dfc87e1e204f6b9e1251089206614f'] | “Now, as I asked, may I help you with anything?” (Y/N) asked and Edge stepped forwards.
“YES, YOU CAN MISS…?” Edge asked politely, seeing how the Lady in White reacted Raspberry. (Y/N) smiled at him as she twirled the parasol on her hands.
“(Y/N). Lady (Y/N) Blumwell. It’s a pleasure to meet you mister…?” the (blonde, brunette, etc.) curtseyed and asked, looking at the dark skeleton under her eyelashes. She offered her hand to him which he took, and like a gentleman, kissed the back of her gloved hand.
“EDGE. IT’S PLEASURE TO MEET YOU TOO LADY (Y/N)” the dark, edgy skeleton said and (Y/N) giggled slightly.
“AND AS FOR YOUR QUESTION, WE ARE LOOKING SOME… COUSINS OF OURS AND WE FOUND OUT THAT THEY ARE LIVING HERE” Edge said and (Y/N) smiled.
“Ah, are you the cousin's Sweets have been talking about? How wonderful!” (Y/N) said, smiling brightly.
“so they’re here?” the skeleton in an orange sweater. (Y/N) frowned slightly, how rude to butt in a conversation.
“Yes, they should be” the beautiful woman answered with a nod. Stretch nodded as Classic was still watching closely the woman. He remembered Mutt telling that he couldn’t CHECK (Y/N) but he wanted to be sure. So as discreetly as he could, Classic performed a CHECK. There was a moment of silence as nothing happened but then something appeared in front of Classic.
***Seems to be hiding something…**
It was a simple statement, but it just confirmed Classic’s suspicions. (Y/N) was dangerous and he’ll be damned to let him hurt Paps.
“Would you like to come in? I am sure Sweets would like to see you! Though I don’t know about the others…” (Y/N) muttered the last part and then waved the skeletons to follow her.
“May I know who you all are?” (Y/N) asked as they walked to the front door.
“I AM THE GREAT PAPS! AND THIS IS MY LAZY BROTHER CLASSIC. DON’T LISTEN TO HIS HORRIBLE JAPES” Paps said happily as he shook (Y/N)’s hand, noting her hand to be rather cold. Classic chuckled, seemingly calm and relaxed.
“nice to meet you, pal,” Classic said and (Y/N) smiled, nodding. She nodded to Edge and looked the smaller skeleton that looked like Axe next to him.
“nice ta meet ya, sweetheart, name’s red,” he said and offered his bony hand. (Y/N) shook it and didn’t even react when electricity runs through her. It tickled slightly.
“My my, a prankster? How fun” the (blonde, brunette, etc.) said and Red chuckled slightly.
“OH OH! YOU’RE THE LADY I BUMPED INTO! IT’S SO NICE TO MEET YOU AGAIN!” Blueberry yelled happily, stars in his eyes. (Y/N)’s smile tightened but she still shook his hand.
“Ah yes, it’s nice to meet you again. Blueberry was it?” she said and Blue happily nodded and turned to his brother.
“sup honey?” Stretch said and nodded towards her, quickly performing a CHECK on her.
*** She doesn’t trust you…**
Stretch lazily took a lollipop from his pocket since Blue had taken his cigarettes. He put it in his mouth and watched (Y/N) turned her head towards Raspberry and Mutt. It was unnerving to see how fluently the woman moved. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t summon her SOUL or even do a full CHECK on her.
“I AM THE MALEFICENT RASPBERRY BUT CALL ME RASP. IT’S… NICE TO MEET YOU” Raspberry said and shook firmly the ghost’s hand while Mutt carefully watched them.
“AND THIS IS MY BROTHER MUTT. MUTT GREET HER!” Raspberry said and Mutt stepped forwards and with such grace planted a kiss on the ghost’s hand.
“pleasure to meet you lady blumwell,” he said and (Y/N) smiled.
“Oh just call me (Y/N), Lady Blumwell is too… Formal. Especially since you’re Sweets and other cousins!” she said and opened the grand doors and walking inside.
…..
“WOWIE, THIS PLACE LOOKS AMAZING!” Paps said happily and (Y/N) was hit by a déjà vu when the other skeletons arrived here.
“THIS LOOKS VERY GRAND, VERY FIT FOR A PERSON LIKE YOU LADY (Y/N)” Edge said while Classic and Stretch looked around suspiciously.
“so, how exactly did ya manage ta get such a nice place? I’d imagine that this musta have cost a lot” Red said and (Y/N) looked at the entrance hall.
“Oh, my husband bought this house when we got married” (Y/N) said as she stared at the grand staircase. Stretch raised his brow; a husband?
“and where’s your husband now if i can ask?” he asked and (Y/N) scoffed.
“Hopefully six feet under, rotting and maggots eating him”. The skeleton group looked shocked by the sudden change of personality. They had never heard such bitterness and hatred coming from anyone’s mouth. Neither they had expected (Y/N) having such a bitter tone on her voice.
“oh wow, that’s rather dark…” Classic said, putting his hands into the hoodie pockets and Stretch nodded. Meanwhile Red started sweating slightly more, not liking the way atmosphere turned much colder.
“MISS (Y/N), YOU SHOULDN’T SAY SUCH THINGS!” Blue said and (Y/N) scoffed in annoyance. They had no idea what **he** had done to her! Though the ghost knew she was acting extremely unladylike but she couldn’t care less.
“I can say anything that I want of that slimy, disgusting bedswerver of a husband!” (Y/N) angrily yelled, her milky eyes sharp and cold as she thought of her ex-husband. **He** had hurt her. **He** had gouged out her eye. . **He** had made her fall down the stairs. **He had left her for dead!**
“w h a t t h e h e l l is g o i n g o n h e r e?” Suddenly (Y/N) was pulled away from the group to a protective hug by a certain black and white skeleton. (Y/N) snapped out from her slight panic attack to see her friends surrounding the two of them as Classic raised his arm as two skulls materialized out of nowhere.
….. | a0deece3bba7410aa8cb9c94ad892a4d | ['21dfc87e1e204f6b9e1251089206614f'] | **Notes for the Chapter:**
> Oh boy, it has been a long time since I've uploaded! For those who don't follow my LINK, I've been having issues with my mom and now because one thing leads to another, I've moved with my sister to a two-room apartment.
>
> Anyway, our dear Spooky Lady's death is revealed so here are some warnings; this chapter contains blood, violence, and death.
Now ever since the Cabin crew had appeared in (Y/N)’s life, her simple routine had changed. Usually (Y/N) walked around in deep thoughts or being alone in her room, hating her husband. It was a bland and boring life. But now… But now her life was exciting!
It had been a normal day to (Y/N); She had wandered the halls of her mansion at night, speaking couple times with Nightmare who had healed rather quickly. He had joined to her in her night walks and discreetly asked about her ghost status. Now (Y/N) didn’t mind musing about the fact _why_ she had become a ghost or how it had happened but when it came to her death, she didn’t really want to tell about it to her friends.
The ghost didn’t understand _why_ she didn’t want to tell her friends about it, after all, (Y/N) had been very open about the way she died and how she hated her good for nothing husband. But now… But now she was very anxious them finding out, what would her friends think about her after they would find the truth?
Would Axe find her untrustworthy?
Would Sweets look at her with scared expression?
Would Dust look at her with uncertainty, his knife pointed at her?
Would Phantom flinch when she would try to touch him?
Would Killer give her a cold shoulder?
Would Cross stop talking to her?
Would Xhara find her ugly when he would see her true form?
Would Nightmare try to stab her again, never to trust her again?
Would her friends leave immediately, leaving her alone once again?
(Y/N) had banished these thoughts very quickly, no, she wouldn’t doubt her friends. All of them had brought light to her life and she would be damned if something were to ruin it! They had given her more reasons to continue living as a ghost, they had given her more strength.
As the night sky started to turn into beautiful dawn, Nightmare retreated back to his room, the attic. (Y/N) had no idea why he wanted to live in the dusty room but it was rather dark so she could guess why that was.
So as Nightmare fled the burning rays of the sun, (Y/N) was left alone to walk in the garden. The gray ghost liked morning walks in the garden, it cleared her head and the sunrise was always so wonderful. The early morning fog made the mansion and the surrounding area look magnificent but perhaps a little haunted. But that was fine, it kept the trespassers out.
(Y/N) sighed happily as she touched one of the many roses planted in the garden. Speaking of the garden, it looked much better with shorter grass and clean bushes, the servants truly did a wonderful job keeping the garden in shape.
…..
Anyway, the next thing in the morning was to see if the fire was lit in the kitchen and do her usual cup of tea and some kind of breakfast. She usually sat in the dining room like a proper lady, waiting for her friends to wake up. Before the Cabin crew moved to the Estate, some of the ghosts would be wandering the halls, minding their own business while the ghosts that were once noble or high in the hierarchy, did these ‘morning meeting’ where they would gossip or reminisce their old lives and times well passed. While (Y/N) did sometimes go to these meetings, she didn’t find them intriguing. Perhaps the other ghosts did that to keep some sense of normality?
Talking about these morning meetings, (Y/N) hadn’t heard the usual chatter when she had arrived in the dining room. In fact, she hadn’t really seen any of the other noble ghosts around lately. Were they trying to avoid her friends? Tch, how normal of them. While others like Lady and Lord Avington, Miss Chamomile and the servants did interact with her monster and ghost friends, the others hadn’t been very active in talking or meeting them. In fact, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if the Cabin crew had even met _all_ of the ghosts in the Estate? Unlike some of the ghosts like Lady and Lord Avington, Miss Chamomile and the servants that interacted with her friends, the noble ghosts hadn’t talked the skeletons or the ghosts.
‘How rude of them…’ (Y/N) thought as she sat into the dining table, sipping her golden flower tea as she watched the garden, seeing the Sun making the fog glow. It was truly a beautiful sight.
\-----
(Y/N) usually waited for someone to wake up, which was usually Sweets or Cross, while Phantom usually came down around the same time. Cross usually went to train into the garden while Sweets came to the kitchen to cook breakfast for everyone while Phantom helped him with (Y/N)’s coaching. In fact, Phantom could keep a physical form for around five minutes while Xhara could keep in up for almost ten minutes, which impressed (Y/N).
‘Perhaps it was the magic monsters had? But then there’s Xhara…’ the gray ghost mused as she watched Sweets happily chatting with Phantom who is borrowing (Y/N)’s ring, careful not to drop the ring.
(Y/N) smiled gently as the two similar looking skeletons. It was quite odd, both of them looked very similar… But they _were_ skeletons. Perhaps there were two types of skeleton monsters in the Underground? Perhaps they are some distant cousins or something, they **act** like a family.
….. |
ee8184dfcf8247739ce394f553dd8af8 | ['220404f843454a35a621e716e553fe6e'] |
1. Unaware Feelings
**Author's Note:**
> This was sort of a spur-of-the-moment writing that I did briefly last year after a few people gave some helpful prompts I just ended up being stuck. I'm unsure of when I'll add more chapters.
>
> Also the ending of the first chapter is kind of meh, I was trying to get to 1k in words before I gave up.
Felix is in love with a oblivious, but lovable idiot. Could someone remind him why he was?
He's really unsure of how to approach with these feelings; opting to shove them painfully back down in fear and disbelief. He's broken out of his inner turmoil when his best friend and older sister comes up behind to hug him.
“Still pinning over Mr. Fruit Cake?” Amber commented, laughing from the way he grumbled. Her grip tightens to prevent escaping as she nuzzles his hair.
“Yes....”
She sighed and spun the smaller male around to examine him properly. “I'm going to help my little bro out, capeesh?” She declared; shushing him when he protested.
Felix pouted. He didn't really need her help! Actually, to be truthful, he did. Chan had many friends that he conversed with daily and Felix couldn't, wouldn't, insert himself into that circle without overwhelming guilt. He despised the negative thoughts that gathered each time he looked in that direction - overriding the positive thoughts.
He's drawn out of his depressing thoughts from his enhanced hearing picking up sounds of people making their way down the hallway. He panics, attempting to struggle out of his sister's grip, whining until she moved.
Amber's brow rose in question at his antics. Her attention is pulled elsewhere when loud chattering echoed in the hallway.
Felix tensed in her grip, twisting his body more in an attempt to flee. He's stopped by her warning growl; slumping with imaginary ears drooped. He buries face into her chest only to peer out – heart thumping hard.
Chan, with his glorious naturally curled blonde locks and gleaming bright brown eyes, came around the corner his wings aflutter. His wings bore a deep brown stripes matching eyes and stripes of an dark reddish hue spread outwards after each brown; white barely formed at the tips as if to spread further down to represent purity. Outfit matched wings with an white turtleneck sweater, not quite paw-worthy, and black jeans that are comfortable to move in.
Felix couldn't stop the noise that escaped after seeing Chan in all his glory and escaped from Amber's grip; sprinting down the opposite hallway away from his crush. This was going to be embarrassing to recall later but he had no intention to focus on that until he's far far away.
Amber watched in amusement and came out of the doorway to greet Chan. There's a calculating look in her eyes and she nearly collides with an smaller body; twisting out of the way.
“Woah! Sorry, guess I need to pay better attention.” She exclaimed with an apologetic bow.
Jisung, with his wide dark brown eyes and squirreled cheeks, looked up in surprise. Words come out a stutter as he formally bowed back, waving his hands.
“No, no! I ran ahead without checking.”
Her gaze flickers to Chan, still a distance away, and gets down to Jisung's level. “Hey, are you friends with the blonde dude over there? Mind introducing me to him?” She politely asked as scenarios ran through head.
“You mean Chan? Sure!” Jisung got off the floor and immediately goes to greet Chan; waving happily along with gesturing behind him.
Chan's brows furrowed as he peered around Jisung to see but Amber had vanished. He sighs and ruffles Jisung's hair.
“There's no one there, were you imagining them?” He questioned; yet knew Jisung wouldn't lie – he physically was unable to – as he watched the squirrel's face whiten.
“I saw her! I even talked to her! Chaaaaaan!” There's whining with a hint of fear in his words, had he met a ghost!? He didn't want to be haunted! Jisung continues his exclamation once they resumed walking.
Felix, after a brief thought, sprinted back down the hallway to physically drag Amber with him before there was any talking. He definitely did NOT need his big sister embarrassing him or encouraging Chan to discover his feeble existence.
OK, he might be overreacting but who doesn't around their crush? He's unaware that Chan caught sight of him dragging Amber away – merely curious of the siblings now.
Chan had been aware of Felix for a long time now but the feline always ran away when he caught their gaze. This made the fairy curious of his 'secret' admirer and filled him with amusement. Perhaps, this could be a game of cat and mouse.
That mere thought had his lips curling into a smile and Chan couldn't resist skipping down the hallway with ideas running a muck.
Jisung watched Chan curiously of what the fairy was thinking and the shudder up his spine told him he really didn't want to know. There's a distance thought that he almost felt sorry for whoever had Chan's attention as he scurried forward to catch up with Chan.
Felix froze in the hallway from the warning alarms going off, turning hackles raised for a threat. He instantly relaxed when not sensing any nearby-threat and resumed walking.
2. Discontinued/Up for adoption
Hey all, I apologize for this but unfortunately I don't have any motivation to write for this story anymore.
Recently, I've started feeling uncomfortable shipping real people together and it has caused me to stall in my writing abilities. However, if anyone wants to pick up this story - feel free! Just message me or somethin' then I'll link it here.
Thanks to everyone who read, kudos and all that I appreciate that! Perhaps I'll see you with my next work whenever I get the motivation!
Have a lovely day <3~. | e5c667b4dcd34afe83c23106386df55d | ['220404f843454a35a621e716e553fe6e'] | Echoing screams are what awoke him from a drugged slumber. The cold gripped his bones, set his skin on edge, and breath was mist each time he exhaled. His eyes flickered around the room constantly – seeking a explanation, a escape.
Slowly, desperation crawled in his veins and nerves set aflame with panic. His lungs felt constricted as if he was being choked. Hands attempting to claw his throat until realization.
He's chained to the wall. He can't see. He's on his tiptoes flat against the wall desperately trying to breathe properly but unable to grasp oxygen. Was this going to be his death? Suffocating?
A creak of a door make the chains loosen and drop him to the floor, gulping in fresh oxygen that developed into a coughing fit.
Bambam silently examined Felix; a dark glint in his eyes. Before Felix could look up, Bambam left the room – only for another to enter.
It's Bang Chan. There's a blank look in his eyes that fills with resignation upon seeing his group-mate. He kneels in front of Felix, jerking the younger male's head up.
“H...hyung?” Felix rasped.
“Felix.”
His voice is devoid of emotion as he brushed thumb over Felix's lips. He leaned forward for a kiss only to brush lips against Felix's jawline and worked his way to the jugular. Chan makes an humming noise within his throat in interest.
Felix feels as if he's going into sensory-overload, arching to get away from the older male until he registered warmth sliding down his neck, pain in his leg and a high-pitched scream fills the area.
His scream.
Chan sunk his sharpened teeth into Felix's jugular, ripped the flesh off, and nails tore into Felix's thigh. Blood spilled into his mouth, down his throat, and on the floor but there's no reaction from Chan besides tightened grip and hips jerked forward.
Shouldn't there be more pain? He can't think, he can't see, and he doesn't believe what's happening. Felix's mind is on the edge of losing its sanity, desperate for this torture to end. By now, he's openly sobbing – begging Chan to stop, to explain, to ask why he's doing this.
Chan pulled back to watch him with dull fascination. He's calm, calculating and watched blood spill over Felix's body and there's that spark of arousal in his gut. Fingers grip the prisoner's jaw, bloody lips meeting pale; staining and marking for his own. He's claiming the prisoner for his own as that had been promised to him with soft whispers, hidden desires, and darkness.
Darkness filled Chan's very soul, intruded his thoughts with delusions and shaped his desires. It had been locked behind a fragile door; and now the contents leaked through – asking to be discovered.
-
_I sat alone, in bed till the morning_
_I'm crying, "They're coming for me"_
_And I tried to hold these secrets inside me_
_My mind's like a deadly disease_
_-_
Bambam unlocked that door for Chan, molded him to accept those dark desires – to become a partner of his organization.
It worked. Yet, there was the risk of losing one's sanity.
Chan's sanity was connected to his group-mates. Each person kept the puzzle pieces to his mind, even if they themselves didn't know it. Bambam discovered this, exploited Chan's puzzle pieces with each departure – satisfied with his work.
His body felt out of place – feeling as if it no longer belonged to him. He's corrupted. There's no escape from his new home; this hellhole.
-
Felix struggled to breathe in-between sobs once the kiss dropped. He's dizzy from blood loss, unable to form words.
“We'll always be together, yeah?” Chan questioned. He cups Felix's cheek before he stood and moved towards the door.
Another puzzle piece faded to dust within Chan's sanity as the door closed behind him, leaving Felix in the dark.
The room feels like it's suffocating him while blood continued to spill and Felix allowed the sweet darkness to claim him, the last thing he saw was the door opening.
Yugyeom entered with blood stains splattered across his body and wheeled in a cart with medical supplies with plans to stitch the wounds up; humming happily.
“Bambam has plans for you and Chan. I'm sure I even saw Woojin in one of these rooms. There's someone else too; Chan spends a lot of time with them.” He commented while he worked, but words fell on deaf ears. Felix had long since passed out from blood-loss and the shock to his system.
Once his work was completed, Yugyeom ruffled Felix's hair and left the boy in the dark until his next session with Chan.
As the door opened, sounds of screams and begging filled the air for just a moment until they're broken off when the door shut.
There's no escape for prisoners. Each one made to be broken to Bambam's desires before they can be sent out again; to bring another prisoner with them. This never-ending cycle of pain continues until all belong to him.
Shall we think of who's next?
-
_And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"_
_I can't help this awful energy_
_God damn right, you should be scared of me_
_Who is in control?_
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I felt inspiration for this since I've joined the Stray Kids fandom and it's around Halloween now. My writing feels better with this chapter but as I write more, I continue improving. Again, I don't have a beta - I apologize for my mistakes!
>
> Song is Control by Halsey.
>
> Tell me what you think! -perhapsevenchoosethenextvictim- |
2e9b98c0673f4e9ab8456e8f87ef5cf8 | ['223b4ce56ff944dc92b1aa04e724aeec'] |
1. Bigger than the multiverse
2. Coffeeshop AU/ College AU
The familiar soothing bustle of the usual CC Jitters crowd was interrupted by the light thunk of a full cup on the table in front of her. Felicity took a deep breath, willing the tears to stop flowing. This really wasn’t the time.
“I said to leave me alone, Coo-“
Her anger gave way to surprise, no she was definitely NOT blushing, as she looked up into striking blue eyes that most definitely did not belong to her sorry excuse for a boyfriend. Well, EX-boyfriend now.
“Hey! Sorry, hope I’m not being too nosy. But you looked like you needed a refill.”
Felicity tried to respond but her mind was a blank. And it was taking all her strength to, probably futilely, suppress the blush she got whenever she saw him. She didn’t know his name but secretly, oh gosh hopefully he would never find out, she just thought of him as “hot Harvard dude”.
He was dressed in his usual maroon Harvard sweatshirt, his own cup of coffee in the other hand.
Felicity realized she was taking too long to answer when Harvard dude started to look down, shuffling his feet.
“Sorry, I-“
“Sorry, I-“
Before this next silence got too awkward, Felicity hastily shuffled the pile of books in front of her.
“I-it’s fine. Have a seat if you’d like. Though I’m probably… not very good company today.”
Harvard dude gave her a smile as he sat down and, oh gosh, how was it possible for him to get even hotter.
“Bad day?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Felicity took a sip of the fresh hot latte he’d gotten her. The soothing warmth and vanilla-y sweetness calming her immediately. Wiping the last of her tears away, she gave him a small smile in return.
“Thanks for this. How’d you know my usual order?”
“Ah…” Harvard dude looked away and did this weird scratching motion with his fingers. Apparently even supermodels could get nervous. “Kind of hard to forget when it still hasn’t washed out of the only Yale shirt I have left.”
Ah yes. This was why she always avoided him. The first day she’d ordered from the new coffeeshop and she just had to have another klutz moment and bump into, of all people, the hottest guy she’d seen so far around town. Every time she spotted him since, and he seemed to frequent CC Jitters as often as her, brought back embarrassing memories of that day. Though it was mostly a blur of apologizing profusely, wiping off the excess coffee as best she could with her one handkerchief and then dashing out of there as fast as possible, half-full cup in hand.
“Whoa hey, I was just joking. “ Harvard dude said with a laugh. “Honestly, it’s fine. Not like I was gonna go back to there anyway.”
“Bad experience?” Oh frak, was that too nosy. She barely knew the guy.
“Bad at studying, more like.” Harvard dude’s smile turned rueful. “Good thing I can just buy my way into any school with my parent’s money at least.”
Ah…Felicity recognized that tone of voice.
“Bad breakup too, huh.”
“She wasn’t wrong. I’ve wasted so many years and what do I have to show for it but a handful of barely passable grades.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it was only a matter of time. I’ve been a bit of an unfaithful asshole, honestly. It was for the best.”
There was no reason for her to feel for this random stranger who basically straight up admitted to be a cheating playboy. But something in his demeanor and his tone of voice made her place her hand reassuringly atop his.
“Well, the first step to correcting your mistakes is acknowledging they exist right?” Harvard dude glanced down at her hand and definitely did not, nope no way it was just a trick of the light, turn slightly red. He did not pull away.
“How about you?” He questioned with a tilt of his head. “Ah…unless that’s too personal. “
“Hey, you told me yours. It’s only right I return the favour.” Felicity took another sip of her latte. “I guess I have the opposite problem from you. Y’know, working too hard, spending more time with my schoolwork than with him. Though, I guess the last straw was when he decided to take most of the credit for our last project when I did most of the work.”
She felt his fist clench under hers. “He what?”
Felicity continued looking down at their hands and shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. At least, even if I’m too plain or too proud to attract another guy, I’ll still have that.”
“Felicity.” Whoa how did he know her name. And when did his hand become the one on top. Also, why was everything suddenly so blurry.
“Hey. It’s his problem if he’s too blind and too dumb to see what he’s lost.”
Felicity blinked the tears out of her eyes. He was a nice guy, no matter what he claimed. “Thanks,” she smiled.
“Guess there’s no better time to return this to you then,” With his free hand, Harvard dude pulled a purple handkerchief out of his pocket.
No. Way.
Was that.
The one.
She’d used.
To wipe away the coffee she’d spilled.
On. Him.
On one hand, it was it was impossible that he’d kept it. And not just kept it but walked around with it in his pocket 8 months later.
On the other hand, she knew how hard it was to find another purple handkerchief with a binary code pattern because, trust her, she’d tried.
“I-is that…?”
“Yea, I’ve been meaning to give it back. But every time I come here you kind of run out immediately.” There was only humour in his voice as he said that. | 8ddfd84cf2c24dcbba37ba5026d709fe | ['223b4ce56ff944dc92b1aa04e724aeec'] | Turning back after a while, she saw that he...was staring at Felicity's retreating back. It irritated her though she didn't understand why. It was not like she was in love with Oliver. Not after what his father had done to her. Perhaps she was tired of being the third wheel all the time. To always be the extra third party in a relationship. She scoffed at the thought. Perhaps returning to Russia was making her sentimental again. It was a good thing they were nowhere near her hometown. She looked forward to flying back to America early the next day. She needed to focus on her mission. There was no time for sentiment.
After that, she bided her time again, waiting for the right opportunity to turn up. Slade had told her all about Oliver's "nightly activities" shortly after her return from Moscow. It all made sense then. Why Oliver and Felicity, and that black driver of his, spent so much time together. She should have known the whole nightclub thing was a front. She'd already seen through his rich idiot persona. She knew he was much smarter and sharper than he led on.
When Slade abducted Thea, it was the perfect opportunity. Oliver was so distracted, he actually gave her temporary CEO status without a second thought. It was almost too easy. She called an emergency board meeting and soon, Queen Consolidated was hers permanently. The look on Oliver's face when he found out that he had lost his family's company, and later when he's learnt of her relationship with his father, it was all the reward she needed.
She hadn't planned on dying.
Slade had immediately saved her life with his Mirakuru-infused blood. She knew that it left those infected with hallucinations, she'd seen Slade talking to thin air on several occasions. Slade never said who he saw but she had heard him mutter the name "Shado" occasionally. She was smart enough never to ask.
For some reason, her hallucinations manifested as a smirking Felicity Smoak, gloating that she had everything Isabel always wanted. Working side by side with the man she loved, spending every waking moment together.
"You might have won the battle, but the war's not over yet," the hallucination smiled a distinctly un-Felicity-like grin. "We'll get Queen Consolidated back and destroy you and Slade."
"Queen Consolidated is rightfully mine! And I will never let anyone take it away again!"
Isabel didn't remember getting out of bed though when she woke up the next morning, most of her possessions were smashed or lying in ruins on the ground. Isabel swore then, the next time she met Felicity would be the last.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Finally done with this short twoshot. Man, I thought Laurel Lance was unpopular, I guess no one wants to read about Isabel Rochev. hahaha The difference in page views is really....
>
> But I'm thankful to those who've left kudos and even subscribed. I hope you like this ending.
>
> The inspiration for writing this was really that part in Stephen Amell's panel at the Phoenix Comicon where someone asked him why Isabel wanted to kill Felicity so badly
> http://olicityislove.tumblr.com/post/88201939512/hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-scorned-and-i-feel
>
> And yea it was supposed to be a oneshot but the backstory with Robert Queen got longer than I thought so it got its own chapter.
>
> Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are mine, Please feel free to give constructive criticism. Hope you enjoyed the story even though Isabel is not the most popular character X) |
e076a153b0b7460fad0df032dad2a854 | ['22813fee3c3d4cbfacaab18647009511'] | “Looks like, you were right after all. I must kill you, only… it is before the boy disappears.” The deep voice said in a menacing tone. “You should have just stayed out of it, let the boy slip up. You should have stayed loyal.” There was another strike of pain, this time into his side. He gritted his teeth to keep from giving the three men the satisfaction of showing pain. The other two wolves came into his line of sight, the lighter tan one with a crazed look in his eyes, a smile widening. They each got to take a swipe at Isa and he endured it the best he could, but the throbbing burn was making his sight go hazy. He felt his wolf writhe in pain, whatever was striking them was made out of Hunter’s metal. The pain was too great, and his wolf couldn’t shift like he needed. His last thought was of the boy, his bonded child… his _ son _ . _ I am so sorry… Rox….as… _ And everything went black.
“Oh this is a delightful change of events… I cannot wait to break _ the mutt _ .”
-
Roxas wolf flinched, causing a strange pain in his chest. It made Vanitas and Xion look over at him with concern. He smiled and gave them a reassuring smile. “I think i just got heartburn.” Vanitas laughed at the face Xion made and Roxas joined in. “I’m kidding, the food was good! Thank you guys for inviting me for a late lunch.” He grinned. Xion smiled and shoved him playfully before Vanitas retorted.
“Well duh idiot, we can’t leave your stomach growling. It was getting annoying.” Roxas punched Vanitas’s arm at the jab and they laughed again. The three settled again the couch in the living room after they ate, and relished in their future plans. They were sure to catch the wolf in question as some point. He would be ready when they did. His mind drifted to Isa and another wave of pain trembled through from his wolf. He rubbed his chest absently, unsure of what that even meant. His wolf was panicking every so often. “Hey Goldie, you okay man?” Vanitas nudged him. He was about to answer when he heard the faint howl of an important meeting. The call was repeated multiple times, as if to emphasize that Roxas _ had _ to attend.
“Oh yeah, sorry I need to head back a little early today, my _ brothers _ needed to talk to me about something,” Roxas said cooly, but he noticed a passing look on Xion’s face. Of course she would have heard it, but something about the look she had for a moment stuck with him. “I promise to back safe and sound.” He laughed, attempting to reassure both Vanitas and Xion. Vanitas shook his head with distrust for his pack members, but Xion harbored many emotions in her eyes that made him feel a strange creeping feeling.
He headed out the door, and walked out toward the treeline. Something felt so weird, didn’t they just have a meeting? He hoped it wasn’t more Hunters expanding their own perimeters. He shifted and hurried toward the pack meeting spot. His wolf pushed them faster around the trees. He was surprised at how quick his wolf was moving, with an odd sense of urgency. It made it to the clearing and shifted. It was a full group today. Even that weird loner Vexen was in the circle, a giant creepy grin on his face. Xemnas looked at Roxas with such dark eyes that he felt the wolf in him cower. He stood his ground however, and tilted his chin. He scanned the faces of each wolf and noticed a similar pattern in each of them.
They all had the same grim expression, all of them staring directly at him. He was used to being scrutinized but something about they way they all looked disgusted unsettled him. Xigbar was smiling condescendingly at Roxas and he glared back with a rude gesture. It was something he learned from Vanitas, and by the look Xigbar gave him, it was a lot ruder than the ravenette had led on. “Now that the child has finally decided to grace us with his presence. We have a matter at hand-” Xemnas began. Roxas’s eyes scanned the group one more time, realizing that they were missing someone.
“Xemnas wait! Where is Isa? Shouldn’t we wait for him?” Roxas interrupted. A lot of the pack members snarled at him for being so rude to the Alpha. They shouted at him “Mutt” and “Disrespectful” and “Get what he deserves” and he only snarled back at them, confused as to why they were ganging up on him so suddenly. Xemnas back handed him so hard he felt the sting blossom in his cheek. He was confused and angry at the response. It was a simple question. Isa was always present, he was the second hand beta, he wouldn’t miss an important meeting. He bared fangs at Xemnas, and the man gripped the boy by his throat, giving it a warning squeeze. He was held like that while the Alpha decided to continue, already annoyed with Roxas. | 3b460a44428046798a099a0aad374873 | ['22813fee3c3d4cbfacaab18647009511'] | “I leave for barely two weeks and you get all injured, Grouch. I’m going to have to wrap you up in soft padding or something,” he says with a laugh. Vanitas gives him a bewildered look before a small grin takes over his lips. He moves over, patting the spot next to him, and Roxas walked over, carefully sitting next to him. He gestured a hand over Vanitas’s whole frame and shook his head almost sadly. “What even happened?” He knew the answer, but he couldn’t very well give himself away. The other looked away, as if remembering the whole occurrence and then gave him a half hearted glare. Roxas stared at his eyes, a warmth taking over him and he bit the inside of his cheek to bring himself back before his wolf got out of control.
“You took too damn long, so I went out looking for you in case your dopey ass was eaten by a wolf or something,” Vanitas snapped stubbornly. Roxas laughed then, and it vibrated through his chest. The other gave him a lopsided smile and shook his head, looking out the window. “I made a very stupid move on my part and went out alone. At night.” He laughed at the look Roxas gave him then and waved his hand dismissively. “I know, it was dumb, especially for a young elite Hunter. But… I guess I was worried.” He muttered the last bit under his breath. Roxas smiled sadly at him and shook his head. “You should have seen my uncle, I thought _ he _ was going to kill me.”
“Well, you aren’t dead so that’s a good sign. No wonder you’re an elite,” he said to the ravenette. Vanitas made a face at him but he only laughed. He felt so much better being around the other already. It was almost as if the two weeks never happened and it was just yesterday that they were finding a dead body in the forest. He hadn’t noticed how much he had grown accustomed to Vanitas in such a short period of time, but he could tell the other felt the same way. “I’m glad you’re okay though,” Roxas said absently, looking across the room at the fireplace. He heard a weird choking noise and turned to see Vanitas covering his face with his good hand, looking away. He shifted in his seat to check on the other, but he avoided his eye contact. They sat in silence for a moment before he noticed Vanitas visibly relax.
“The craziest part wasn’t the wolf that attacked me… I could hardly see it in the darkness. But… there was this wolf that showed up, and I think it was protecting me.” Vanitas laughed, shaking his head. “I mean, that’s stupid. It _ was _ protecting me. It was just odd… the fur was so… and it felt like I could just trust it.” Roxas stiffened, his wolf wiggling inside with excitement. He felt a cold sweat run through him and he moved back into the couch, listening to Vanitas. The other turned to him with a confused look but he waved him away. “You okay? I know, wolf talk must be tiring if you hear it all the time. But this thing, it was huge, and… and beautiful. Like, I had never seen such a big creature before. It almost looked bigger than that Black pack’s Alpha.” This shocked Roxas, he had never noticed if he was bigger or not. He wasn’t paying attention to his growth spurt much because he still scorned the fact that he was forced into it. Then he felt it; the weird pull of his wolf, the sweet smell becoming overwhelming. Before he could stop it, he felt a purr rumble from his chest, softly. Both guys looked at each other in shock, Roxas with a shocked expression, Vanitas with amusement starting to fill his features. “What was that? Are you mocking me or something, Goldie?” Roxas was frozen, his wolf still wiggling to be free. He held it back the best he could and stood suddenly. _ What the hell is your malfunction wolf? _ The sweet smell wafted up as Vanitas started to maneuver his way up, grabbing a crutch from the side of the couch. “What are you doing, crazy? Sit down! You need to rest,” Roxas said quickly when he looked over in surprise, lightly pushing down on Vanitas’s good shoulder. The other gave him a glare, laughing lightly.
“Would you calm down Goldie? I’m fine, it’s just a broken leg and arm, I can still move.” Vanitas punched Roxas’s arm playfully. He gave the other an exasperated look, but could tell the other wasn’t going to back down. _ Vanitas is the most irritating person… _ he thought to himself. “Would you stop being such a girl? Plus, when we went exploring before, I didn't get to tell you too much about the murders. And there have been a lot more while you were gone.” This caught Roxas’s attention and he moved out of Vanitas’s way and watched him hobble to the window, leaning against the wall. “We’ve noticed that whatever wolf is doing this, and I'm starting to think it was the one that attacked me, they’re doing this out of spite. If it wasn’t for my flashlight, I wouldn't have been able to clearly tell the two wolves apart, so I’m thinking that one is framing the other.” Roxas felt his blood run cold, his wolf growling inside. It made perfect sense. ---- hated Roxas, always had. They would always be the first to see him punished, they mocked him and always turned him into Xemnas any time he even slightly messed up. They were also the one that pinned him as a child before Xemnas had swiped at him, causing the three scars across his stomach. |
6185a7c0d1ed44c4be7333e8fd11fb4d | ['22af9754663f47979147bf64ef4d72e5'] | Jimin presses a finger to Jaebum's lips to shush him, kissing over his finger once before leaning back against the bed, eyes a little wide, eyebrows raised. "Are you getting hard _again_?" There's no reply as Jaebum's dick twitches inside of him, and Jimin shakes his head, laughing out a breathless sound. " _You're_ unbelievable, hyung." He reaches under him, tugging out the pillow with effort, before turning it to the clean side and tucking it under his head. "Fuck my thighs, then."
When Jaebum pulls out, the mess they've made has him getting even harder as Jimin's hole clenches around the excess of lube and cum around his rim, making the skin glisten.
Some of it dribbles out, sliding down Jimin's balls and Jaebum takes the opportunity to slip two fingers back into Jimin, fingers curling in a come hither motion, not stopping even as Jimin's ass clenches down around him tight. He sinks in with his fingers only a few more times before he pulls out completely, tsking when Jimin turns his head, panting into the pillow. "We can't let this go to waste." It's sticky and wet but doesn't faze Jaebum as he opens his hand, dragging his palm up the wet crack of Jimin's ass, over his hole, up higher, dragging anything damp onto his palm before he starts to rub the insides of Jimin's quivering thighs with the slick. "Close your legs," he says, tugging Jimin's hips closer to him and holding his legs up with his hands.
Almost immediately Jimin listens, thighs tensing with the effort it takes not to quiver, over-sensitive and tired, but still wanting to get Jaebum off.
Jaebum kisses any skin he can reach, pressing lips against the side of Jimin's leg gently in contrast to the way his cock starts to fuck through slicked thighs, tugging Jimin back to meet his every movement. "Wish you could see yourself, angel. See how fucking pretty you look, letting hyung use your body like this." The head of his cock pokes through to the other side with every firm slide through Jimin's thighs, and after a good minute or two, Jaebum angles his hips a little downward, rubbing against Jimin's still twitching shaft with his own tip, teasing.
Jimin whines quietly, forearm moving to rest over his eyes as he arches his back, other hand clutching at the sheets, purpling hickeys on full display. "Just want to make you come, Jaebum-hyung. 's all I wanna do. _Please_ , please, please." His rough Busan satoori slips out then, but all he does is slip the arm over his eyes back, so that he can meet Jaebum's eyes. "I want your cum all over me, Jaebum. _Come_ , come, come, _please_." The begging is almost a mantra, and Jimin's voice sighs the verbal filth so prettily, so desperate and needy.
And Jaebum's eyes widen in surprise minutely before he's coming all over Jimin's front, almost as if on command, over Jimin's chest, his stomach, spurts decorating Jimin's softening cock and balls in his release.
"What a mess," Jimin sighs out, tired but completely satiated, and Jaebum gets on his hands and knees, leaning over to kiss right over where Jimin's heart is.
"Shower, then."
Both of them meet gazes, and the mischievousness is already implied.
Jimin offers his hands to Jaebum, demanding to be helped up, legs still shaky and ass still leaking Jaebum's cum. "We're sleeping in _your_ bed tonight, though."
"I love you?"
Jaebum frowns as he looks down at Jimin cuddled up on his chest. "You say that like you're unsure." His hand cups around the back of Jimin's neck, thumb swirling slow circles on the side of his throat soothingly.
Immediately, Jimin shakes his head, but only slightly. "Just trying the words out." He leans his cheek back down on the juncture of Jaebum's shoulder and chest, sighing quietly, content. "It's nice to finally say out loud.
The implication isn't lost on Jaebum, a _'you've said them in your head a lot?'_ just on the tip of his tongue but he chooses not to say anything, smiling to himself as he starts to play with the strands of Jimin's hair. Instead, he stores the information for a later time to tease Jimin.
"We're...gonna have to tell everyone sometime...soon? How did Mark-hyung and Jackson do it again?"
"I wouldn't worry about that."
Jimin's breaths start to even out slowly, the responses in their conversation starting to span out longer, with more quiet, comfortable, silence in between. But right before he drifts off completely, he murmurs out one last question.
"Why not?"
And, perhaps it was easy for all of their friends to see. They were watching from leagues away, witness to the invisible way Jaebum and Jimin turned around each other, one the axis upon which the other spun—to all the times they followed each other from one end of their orbit to the next. It's easy to see from far away, but almost impossible to distinguish when you're this close, when you're one of the bodies involved.
But Jaebum wouldn't have it any other way. He'd brave the difficulty, the blindness, the pitch dark and uncertainty of space, all to be near Jimin, like this.
"I think they already know."
**Author's Note:**
> endless thanks to mel, who beta-ed this for me! ♥ | b0b59112b7884bb2a352722a206e63c0 | ['22af9754663f47979147bf64ef4d72e5'] | Jimin’s heart might have just skipped a beat. Either that or it's jumped up into his throat because he's doesn't really know what to say back to that, knows that it's probably just an off-handed friendly comment but it _feels_ like something else.
Something takes over Jimin. He’s giddy, and although it’s only been a month or so since he’s first met Taehyung, Jimin is already so comfortable with him. Although it isn’t hard for Jimin to warm up to people, Taehyung is most definitely an anomaly. It’s taken almost no time at all for them to settle into these perfect little niches in each other's lives, as if they've been there all along.
“Do you want to come over after you're done? We’re really close to my apartment and I still need to give you back your jacket.”
There might also be a bit of flirting thrown in there from time to time, but he’s a bit unsure if Taehyung is actually doing it, or if he’s just projecting.
“Oh—”
Jimin holds his breath as Taehyung's mouth shifts into a wide smile.
“—sure!”
No one is surprised when they run into each other at the library again.
Jeongguk sure isn’t.
In fact, the small break for name exchanging is appreciated because he’s pretty sure that his brain is about to cave in on itself. Seokjin and Jimin really weren’t kidding when they said they’d help him study. He just didn’t know that _dying in the library_ also came with the deal. If he scrawls his last will and testament into this textbook about proper grammar, _someone_ is bound to find it within the next decade, right?
Oh, shit. Taehyung is speaking—
"—don’t think you met them last time. This is Yoongi, whose scowl is pretty much a fixture on his face.” Taehyung very deftly avoids a fist to the shoulder. “And this is Hoseok, who doesn’t _stop_ smiling.”
It’s a little weird because this whole situation vaguely feels like he’s meeting his older brother’s cool friends for the first time. Or even weirder yet, that he’s meeting his brother’s in-laws if things go well between Jimin and Taehyung.
As Seokjin chats with Taehyung, Jeongguk sneaks a peek at the newly introduced members of the squad from underneath his bangs. He feels like a kid again with his neon colored mechanical pencil and oversized grey sweatshirt; in between his hyungs, in the middle of a fort made of books, he waves shyly.
“Hi, I’m Jeongguk.”
Yoongi turns his head, squinting at the tiny characters printed on the pages that are open. “Studying for…?”
“My CSATs. I’m taking them at the end of the month.”
“That’s nice of them to help you.” Hoseok remarks, whole facing lighting up with his smile. His dimple creases at the corner of his lip, and Jeongguk wonders how he does that, how he manages to project so much warmth with just an expression.
“Jimin-hyung and Seokjin-hyung won’t _stop_ helping me, actually.”
Jeongguk’s attention is pulled away from the duo when Seokjin exchanges phones with Taehyung, fingers tapping away at the call screen as he saves his contact information in. It seems like everyone is trading phone numbers around him, so he shyly take out his own from his pocket, about to make the motions of handing it over to Taehyung ( _who is actually pretty cool...good for Jimin, Jeongguk congratulates inside his head_ ) but Hoseok takes it instead, slipping his own phone into Jeongguk’s hand.
“If you ever need help with geography, let me know.”
Yoongi looks over Hoseok’s shoulder.
“That’s the only thing he’s good at.” Gesturing towards Jeongguk’s phone, he nods when Hoseok opens up an app. “Give him my Kakao. I never text.”
Things happen pretty fast. With the initial _strangers_ barrier overcome, Jeongguk shuffles his feet back a little under the table, making room for Yoongi's legs when the three of them sit down across the table.
Within a few minutes everyone has their respective devices back, and Jimin is talking to Taehyung about which books the kids at the library like listening to the most. It’s an incredibly animated conversation, and watching them talk to each other is like watching some kind of well oiled machine turn. It’s like they’ve been friends forever.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes as he mock whispers to Seokjin. “I think we’ve officially lost him, hyung.”
There are a few noises in agreement, and he is not surprised to see Hoseok grinning.
“They’re pretty perfect for each other, aren’t they?” He exchanges a look with Yoongi, who just shrugs.
No injuries thus far. It’s an improvement since the last time Seokjin enlisted Namjoon’s help in the kitchen. Using a paring knife to slice carrots is never a good idea.
“You know Taehyung, right? I just met him the other day in the library.”
The segway in their conversation is marked by Namjoon pausing temporarily in his cutting, eyebrow raised as he looks at Seokjin, waiting for him to elaborate.
Jeongguk tucks his feet up on the chair, folding them into a pretzel shape as he turns his eyes away from the computer screen.
“Seokjin-hyung even got his number on the first try! He’s got more game than Jimin.”
The eldest just laughs, continuing to mix the seasoning for the stir fry.
“Well I got it _for_ Jimin.”
The keypad lock to their front door beeps, and the usual bustle of Jimin coming back from class can be heard down the little hallway.
“Wait,” Namjoon stops chopping altogether, turning around to prop his hands on the counter behind him. “Jimin had the guy over the other day but didn’t even have his number? What kind of logic is that?” His voice is purposefully raised. |
1cc7252c867145f9a67e99fcf350b8da | ['22b6928424964f188805a4d09242886b'] | Lukas had turned to look at him. "You worry about the child," more a statement than a question.
"I worry for them both." Francis couldn't imagine _not_ worrying about them.
With the rebellion of the colonies there was always the chance of a backlash brought about by England to ensure order. Both boys could potentially be in danger. And here he was, sailing away from them both in defeat. Leaving them to the whims of his centuries old rival. He wasn't sure if there was a strong enough word for the shame he felt.
Lukas nodded his head, he understood the situation well enough. "You gave England a hell of a run." With that brief statement he stalked off, most likely retreating to the solitude of his cabin.
Francis couldn't help but chuckle. Coming from the naturally abrasive nation that was downright flattery.
As the land disappeared from the horizon Francis closed his eyes and hummed an old tune, trying to give himself just a bit of comfort from his thoughts, a little peace before going to face the Hell that Europe would be once he returned.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> While there were a few countries that were more likely to support each other at the time, alliances were still very transient and short-lived in Europe. The country you allied with today might be your adversary within the next decade.
>
> I might also add for those familiar with the Louisiana Purchase that at this time France does not still own the Louisiana Territory or New Orleans. He lost it during the Seven Years War (French and Indian War) and only got it back from Spain with the rule of Napoleon, so by all rights it's Spain's to take away at this point in history.
>
> The whole thing with the Act of Abjuration(Plakkaat van Verlatinghe) and Declaration of Independence? Trufax. Pretty much a 'this is why you suck' letter to Spain's monarch at the time, Phillip II. Look it up sometime, they have a lot of the same elements. And I do not say that just because I secretly ship Netherlands/America. (Q_Q)
>
> Netherlands/ Lukas Jansen - My own headcanon name for him I guess. | f08a1a505ddd48bfa30ab3378b6cffc5 | ['22b6928424964f188805a4d09242886b'] | And I Will Be Icarus
**Author's Note:**
> Originally posted for a kink meme and at FF.net on 11-13-10
>
> Summation of request:"...smutty fic in which America's partner is totally getting off on the fact that they're in bed with this insanely powerful person, someone who could hold them down and ravish them, but who doesn't do a thing unless they allow him to."
Every time he hugged Alfred, it felt like he was embracing the sun. It was so energetic and warm in your arms that you couldn't bear to let go if you wanted to; even with having the terrifying knowledge of how close you were to burning up in it.
Perhaps the perfect metaphor for Ivan's current situation.
Alfred was panting heavily underneath him on the bed, his eyes closed, head thrown back with his hips bucking at each stretching thrust of fingers as Ivan prepared him. It almost seemed sinful for such a powerful man to look so vulnerable, so helpless.
Still, it never ceased to amuse him how Alfred was at his most deceiving when there wasn't any effort being put forth into the deception.
Ivan might be physically larger, more intimidating on a certain level, but he knew he could not match Alfred's brute strength. Oh he had tried, had first entertained the thought that he could subdue the other nation in a physical confrontation without much effort on his part. It had been shocking to find out that he was wrong. And, on a certain level, it had been _thrilling_ to find out he was wrong.
He leaned down and started pressing open mouth kisses over exposed, sun-touched flesh. Over anywhere, but near those pouting lips.
"C'mon, stop being a tease," Alfred whined impatiently, throwing him a half-hearted glare.
If Alfred wanted to he could easily force the kiss, claim Ivan's lips and ravage him, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop him. If the other wanted to he could easily reverse their positions; Ivan could just as easily be under Alfred, begging for that kiss.
That thought shouldn't be so arousing.
"Ah, but Alfred likes it when I tease." And to prove his point Ivan gripped Alfred's twitching cock and thumbed the exposed head, the hand still stretching and preparing picking up speed in its movements. Hips jerked upwards as Alfred pressed eagerly into the much desired touch.
"Mmmhmm. Yeaaaaah, like that."
Giving a smug smile, Ivan stopped his lewd stimulation of Alfred's vital regions. The near-howl of dismay that followed was both instant and gratifying. He had to stop himself from giggling at the mixed expression of want and outrage on Alfred's face, he really didn't want to be thrown off the bed.
"Please? Ivan _please_. _Ivaaahhhn_." It was an unspoken agreement not to use their formal names while alone together. They were impersonal, and what they did was the acme of trust between the two. Alfred trusted Ivan to not take advantage of him when he allowed himself to be seen as something other than 'the hero'.
Ivan trusted Alfred to not split his head open like a rotten melon.
"I spoil you." That was all the warning he gave before Ivan lined up his own erection at Alfred's increasingly inviting entrance. Keeping steadying hands on the others hips he pushed in slowly, savoring the heat - savoring the way sweaty hands grasped cotton sheets as he reigned himself in from bucking wildly.
It was only when they were fully joined that he granted Alfred his kiss, one that spoke more of play than force. Soon Alfred's moans were muffled by the sound of his own quickened breathing as he started rocking his hips back and forth, never completely leaving the burning heat that engulfed him.
Over too soon, it was always over far too soon. When Alfred came Ivan was not far behind him. With the way his cock was being clutched so lewdly within Alfred's body, it was hard not to.
Ivan used a strategically placed towel near the end of the bed to wipe them down (as dried cum flakes on the sheets in the morning were not pleasant). As soon as he laid down, Alfred snaked his arms around him, laying his head against Ivan's broad chest with sigh of contentment. After their first time together Ivan had resented being cuddled so easily, used as if he were a giant teddy bear. But when he thought about it later he realized that it was _because_ Alfred trusted him. Trusted him now to keep the ghosts away, both those imaginary and those created from past mistakes.
There were different types of power, Ivan understood this well enough. While it was a switch in power that he wasn't used to, he didn't think it was a necessarily bad one.
For now he would simply hold his little sun against him and smile. |
e7e657e1802646c5bbe4219293973379 | ['22b7e36e3157479b95e60f7cf7ddfc0b'] | He wipes the dust from the photo and looks at it closely, trying to bring up the memory. It's almost like he's laying down on the tepid sand outside again, to his right, someone lays down as well. _This is the best Christmas ever_ , she says, and when he looks, Wyn is there, a bright smile on her face; he doesn't get it. _How could it be, there's no snow_ , he complains, and she props up on one elbow. Her mother had braided her hair earlier, but Wyn had undone them right after lunch. _Exactly_ , she tells him, _who'd like the cold so much?_ He answers, maybe. But then Lucia comes jumping on them and she's small and loud and has some story to tell that is funny, so they laugh until the blonde woman calls him. The three of them look back at her, and she raises her phone to snap a picture. This picture.
His fingers come practically black from the dust, and he puts the photo back in its place before going up the stairs. Everything is a mix of modern and traditional: while the living room is all wood and old cushions, the stairs are steel and carbide. His steps don’t make a sound, and the first door he finds is a suite.
The windows are closed, but the curtains are drown, so the sunlight can come in, illuminating the dust that floats in the air. That house hasn’t seen people for five years, and that is clear. Saint steps in further, catching glimpses of wedding photos and closed boxes on the corner, next to another door that he opens to reveal a closet large enough to fit two people's clothes. Half of it has woman’s clothes, half has man’s, and that half has one curious item: a blue parka just like the one Saint is wearing at that moment.
He gets closer to get the parka from its hanger and his feet hit some sort of box that is on the floor, so Saint leaves the clothes alone and sits down the floor, pulling the box out of the closet and closer to him. It’s like a black, large briefcase without a combination lock, and when he opens it, there’s a gun inside, a big one, that he touches with careful hands.
He doesn’t have permission to hold it, to be honest, and there’s something very primal in him that wants to obey that order, even if he doesn’t know where it comes from; but he’s alone now, and whoever told him that the gun was off limits isn’t around anymore to have a say.
It’s a heavy gun, and Saint has to hold it with both hands as he looks closely, the ending of it pointed away from his chest (he’s curious, but not stupid). On its base, there’re two words written: _Captain Cold_. He, then, looks inside the case more closely, seeing that it contains all sort of things, from extra charges to superheroes cards, and looking through them, there they are – Captain Cold wearing the blue parka and goggles, and the White Canary, who was the blonde woman from the photos and his memory.
Saint leans in to take a better look at those cards, but he still is holding the gun, which causes it to make a sound, and a bright glare is shot inside the closet, dropping the temperature severely inside that room. That’s the reason he didn’t have permission to hold the gun before, Saint remembered, putting it back inside the case. Better to keep checking, keep looking.
_Poor Larson had a birthday on the worst day ever,_ Mick Rory thinks to himself like he had been thinking to himself for the past seven years. Lisa always says that he was planned, expected, but no one plans to have your kid sharing the birthday with Jesus, how could one compete?
“You could at least _pretend_ you’re enjoying, couldn’t you?” Lisa says from the door, and Mick looks up at her from above the beer he’s nursing. “Lucia knows when you’re upset, she makes questions after. _Mommy, why didn’t uncle Mick laugh at my joke?_ ”
Despite himself, Mick smiles, and Lisa takes it as a cue to sit by his side.
“Remember the last time we had a normal Christmas?” he asks, and she nods. “It wasn’t even normal, but…”
She knows. Last time they were all together was actually the day Larson was born. And then, Barry was gone. And then so was Lenny and Sara with their kids.
“Your mother-in-law still holds it against you for going to Louisiana that year,” he says, not a question. If Cisco’s mom already had a beef with her younger son, it got worst when they ended up having her second grandchild over twelve hours away from her, even if it wasn’t the plan.
“Won’t ever let us forget, nope,” Lisa replies, eyes ahead.
“We had this bet going on, but I guess we’ll give up, the woman won’t ever bulge!” Mick comments, and Lisa smiles. He looks at her, then. “I’m enjoying it, don’t worry.”
“Mick,” she starts, but he shakes his head no.
“Don’t worry,” he assures her, and at that very moment, his phone buzzes. Lisa looks away when he checks it, but he knows she can sense his tension when he sees what’s on the screen. “Lis, I’ve gotta go,” he tells her, and she raises an eyebrow, torn between skepticism and curiosity, something she picked from Leonard.
“Off to save the world already?” she asks looking up, he’s already standing.
“Something like that. It’s more like this thing I need to check out. I will keep you posted, okay?”
Lisa nods. She’s used to see him leave, Mick’s sort of important now.
“Don’t forget to say bye to the kids!” she calls, even though she doesn’t need to. He would never again miss on saying goodbye to the little ones. | 19f0927507e44b599436efe0ff88e372 | ['22b7e36e3157479b95e60f7cf7ddfc0b'] | It meowed, circling her legs again, and Selina frowned at the paw marks the cat was leaving. There were three other cats coming from behind the sofa too, looking at her with different levels of distrust, but it was too weird that their paws were wet. Cats, they weren't dumb that way, they avoided water at any cost, and the fact that they didn't…
Suspiciously, Selina poured some milk in the first container she found and decided to follow the trail of tiny footsteps. The four cats rushed to the milk, and she saw that they too had wet paws, so she knelt down and touched the track.
The tip of her fingers came out red and her eyes widened. Blood. Where did they find blood? She looked back at the kitties, and only then noticed that the Siamese one had blood stains on its belly. Was it hurt? It looked too happy to be hurt, but she took a closer look anyway, daring to pet it looking for injuries while it ate.
No injuries in that one, so she reached for the next cat – a black kitty with the whitest nose – but that one was clean too, and the other two were too skittish to let her get too close.
"Where did the blood come from?" she wondered to herself, getting up, and against common sense she started to follow the trail of paws.
There was another room in that "apartment", the room where she used to sleep into, with a secret pass way inside a closet, a half-assed hole in the wall hidden by a wooden plate and some ratty blankets. Selina suspected that there could be more kitties there, perhaps one of them had had kittens, but any theory she had about the blood shattered when she stepped in the room.
With a shocked gasp, Selina dropped her whip and hurried to his side, shocked to see the pool of blood under his middle.
"Bruce!" Selina called, hands to his face. He was on the floor, face as pale as could be, partially covered by a heavy jacket and one of her old blankets. The closet's door was open and the blankets scattered all around, indicating that he had used that entry to get in. "Bruce, wake up."
She tapped his face worriedly, and in an unconscious decision took off her gloves to check his temperature and pulse. He was breathing, okay, but just barely, and he was freezing cold, heartbeat slow. Selina had to check his injury, though, so she removed the jacket to see what was going on.
Bruce's torso was smeared with dried blood, and he had lousily tied gauze around his waist, though it was blooded and humid, meaning he didn't completely stop bleeding yet, so she found the tip of the gauze and started to pull it free carefully, all the while calling his name and hoping for him to wake up, or just flutter his eyes.
"Bruce, I'm calling Alfred," Selina said, even though she didn't even move to get her phone yet. She was too busy trying to see what could possibly have caused so much blood loss. "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm really calling."
There was a cut on Bruce's side, awfully close to his right kidney. It was a rather deep cut, considering how much he was bleeding (and had bleed), and Selina used the bloodied gauze to try and stop the bleeding while she looked around to see what she could use to help him before calling 911. She could swear there was a first aid kit somewh-
"Don't call," Bruce said weakly, his fingers trying to grab her wrist, and she glared at him wide eyed.
"Bruce-"
"Don't call Alfred."
"Why the fuck not?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but only ended up coughing, his lips tinging in red, and Selina cringed. Not a good sight.
"Look, I won't call him, but I need to call an ambulance, you lost a lot of blood. But first, where's my first aid kit?"
He moved his head, sort of pointing to his legs, and she draw the blanket away, sure to find the tin box under it.
Selina got Bruce's hand and lead it to his side, for him to hold the gauze there, and then she helped him sit up, his back against the wall; she then reached for the box, its contents smeared with blood, and he had used most of the gauze, but she still had hydrogen peroxide, iodate, tape and enough cloth to patch him up and hold up until emergency arrived.
She pushed his hand aside and tossed the gauze away to clean the cut with peroxide using the last cotton ball of the kit, and he hissed at the contact. The blood flow had slowed down considerably, but she couldn't know how much damage was caused _inside_.
"What the hell happened, Bruce?"
"Bar fight," he told her. His voice was weak, he was shivering, and she'd have to help his temperature go up soon, had to patch him up fast.
"You were in a bar fight? In the _Narrows_?" she replied skeptically. "What happened to South Channel Island?"
He made a face and winced again when she applied some ointment before she covered the cut.
"Tommy wanted an alternative place to celebrate his birthday."
Selina scoffed.
"Fucking hipsters," she said rolling a good chunk of gauze around her fingers and then cutting it with and old scissor she kept in the kit. "Hold this," she instructed. Only then she saw that his knuckles were bruised, and it made her shake her head. "That Tommy bounced on you, didn't he?" |
4ef69ee919eb403e848d18a58c4264c0 | ['22bd5e1daaef4f71a181a791f4f28340'] |
1. Prologue
Disclaimer: Everything in the wonderful universe where this story takes place belongs to J.K. Rowling.
* * *
Underneath the refuge of nightfall, two hunched figures, one tall and the other short and stocky, converse in harsh whispers. They stand across the street from a relatively small house, its dark windows a sign that those inside the house have gone to bed.
"You sure this is the place?" whispers the short one.
"Yes, this is the place, though I can't be sure the girl is inside," replies the tall one from behind a frightening mask, almost but not quite identical to that of the figure beside him.
"But you're sure her parents are here? This will mean nothin' if there's no one to witness it," the short figure says, glancing behind him with a paranoid look at the sound of a stray cat jumping onto a trash can.
"I've been informed by multiple sources that they are indeed here. The girl, however, could be anywhere. The Mudblood is involved with that despicable Harry Potter." He spits the last two words with evident malice.
The short figure furrows his brow and tenses up. "Just hearing that name makes me want to find that boy, point my wand, and give 'im somethin' far worse than any killin' curse. That's been attempted twice now, and hasn't worked either time."
"Believe me, I feel the same way, especially after what he did to the only person who had any sense in this world. But this will show Harry Potter and all his followers that just because our fearless leader was martyred, it doesn't mean that we're no longer around."
"Shhh! Keep your voice down. The Order could be watching this house." He continues, knowing that the darkness will lift soon. "So, how are we gonna go about doin' this? We gonna kill 'em? After all, they're only muggles," he whispers, drawing his wand.
"No. At least, we won't be using the killing curse on them. We only want to send a message, remember? We'll set the house ablaze with the fires of our passion!" the tall one says, pounding his fist in the air.
"Shall I send for more?"
"No, no more. Just the two of us tonight. Two Death Eaters are enough. There are hardly any of us left nowadays." He places a hand on his comrade's shoulder. "But we shall grow in numbers once again, and we shall finish what our master started, purifying all Wizardkind. It might not be today, nor tomorrow, but our actions tonight will ignite a spark. A spark of revolution!"
Without uttering another word, the two figures creep toward the quiet house. With a simple uttering of "Incendio!" the house begins to burn, the fire crackling as it rises higher and higher. The two Death Eaters stand and admire their work, the incandescent glow of the flames reflecting off of their gruesome masks. They stand there for a moment, then with a wave of their wands, they vanish, leaving behind a Dark Mark in the sky along with the rising smoke.
2. I
Hermione Granger walked through the busy hallway, determination in every step. Her short journey was filled with shoves followed by meaningless apologies and one "excuse me, miss," but Hermione was not in the mood to give them her usual reassuring smile in return. After finally making it to her small, cramped office at the end of the hall, the young witch shut the door, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Hermione opened her eyes and walked to her usually tidy desk, which was now cluttered with an assortment of papers, files, and pictures. She sat down heavily in the desk chair and stared at a moving picture of her parents when she heard a knock on the door.
' _Please, please, please don't be Harry_ ,' thought Hermione.
The door opened and in walked Harry Potter.
"Harry!" she said, quickly drawing her wand and cleaning her desk with one wave. "I wasn't expecting you to drop by. You know I don't-"
"You don't like it when I come by unannounced, I know. You've said it a hundred times, Hermione," said Harry.
"Don't interrupt, Harry. Rudeness doesn't suit you," she replied with a smirk. "What brings you to this level of the Ministry? Do you need something?"
"Hermione, come on. I can't just come see you because I want to see you? I don't need anything. I just want to see how you've been getting on," he spoke softly and tenderly, as only a close friend would.
Hermione sighed and looked down. "I'm fine Harry, honestly."
"And your parents?"
Hermione's frown deepened and her brow furrowed. "I- I had to send them away again. For their own safety, of course." She looked her friend in the eye. "It's just- it's been driving me mad since the house burned down. What if they hadn't gotten out in time? My parents, burned to death, just because they're my parents. And because they're muggles, of course. To the Death Eaters, they are worth nothing." She felt the tears threaten to appear, but she would not allow herself to cry. She had done enough crying in front of Harry to last a lifetime after her breakup with Ron.
Next thing she knew, Harry was striding across the room to wrap his arms around her. Hermione welcomed the embrace; she hadn't realized how much she needed it till just now.
"It'll be okay, Hermione. I know it seems hard right now," he pulled back to look her in the eyes, "but it will get better."
Hermione hugged him again. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered.
After they pulled away, Harry's face and tone brightened. "So, are you excited for the ball tonight?"
_Bugger_.
"Actually, I don't think I will be attending." Hermione mentally prepared herself for a lecture, but only received a sad smile from her best friend in the world. | 78ad0c8577464a03bbc3f1a684238149 | ['22bd5e1daaef4f71a181a791f4f28340'] | Taking a deep breath, she walked over to Ron, who was currently trying to get a stain out of his dress robes by rubbing it vigorously with a napkin. She giggled while taking out her wand and then simply uttered, "Scourgify!" The stain disappeared faster than Ron could realize that she had even walked up. "Uh, thanks," he said, getting rid of the napkin.
"You're welcome." After spending a few moments in awkward silence, Hermione spoke up. "Listen, Ron. I don't like the way things are between us. Just because... " She stopped at the glare on Ron's face. "What?" She turned around and saw none other than Draco Malfoy holding out his hand towards her.
"Care to dance, Granger?"
Ron scoffed. "She's not going to bloody dance with you! So bugger off, Malfoy!"
At this remark, Malfoy frowned and looked at Hermione. "Sorry, I wasn't aware you were no longer making your own decisions. But a word of advice: Pick someone less dense to make them for you."
Hermione's glare matched Ron's. "I do make my own decisions, Malfoy, and this one I don't even have to think about. The answer is no."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"
Hermione was taken aback. "B- because you're Malfoy! I'm sure this is some sort of cruel joke. Maybe you lost a bet, or maybe you plan to hex me in the middle of the dance floor. I just know that you cannot be trusted."
Malfoy smiled. Not that infamous smirk of his, but a real, genuine smile. He almost looked...charming. "Not even for one dance? I swear on my life I won't try anything."
Ron scoffed again. "Oh please, your word is worth noth-"
"Ronald! Will you for once allow me to fight my own battles?" Hermione turned to face Malfoy. "Alright. One dance. But if you try anything, I'll make sure you're never allowed back in the Ministry headquarters."
"I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Granger." They walked out to the dance floor, leaving Ron with his mouth agape in shock and horror.
Once the conductor lifted his baton, the orchestra began to play, filling the Atrium with beautiful music. As soon as Malfoy's hand came to rest on her hip, Hermione could have sworn she felt some sort of electricity. She jumped, fearing he was about to hex her. Malfoy chuckled. "Relax, Granger. Now at least try to let me lead." As they were dancing, Hermione got a good look at her partner. Malfoy's pale hair was only slightly slicked back, with a few strands of hair falling into his unreadable grey eyes. His pale skin bore stark contrast to his black dress robes. His features were unlike those of anyone she knew; he had angular cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that looked like they held a thousand secrets behind them.
Malfoy smirked. "You're staring at me, Granger. Did you forget how handsome I was? My looks are probably quite shocking to you, considering you've been around Weasley for so long."
Hermione frowned. "It appears your revolting vanity has remained intact all these years."
Malfoy laughed. "I couldn't bear to lose it."
They continued to dance, and Hermione was not blind to the murmurs and odd looks from people at seeing the unlikely pair together. Then Malfoy spoke up.
"So, what do you do here exactly?"
This ball just kept getting stranger. Malfoy, dancing and trying to make conversation with her? Hermione thought it over in her head and decided friendship was worth a try. After all, it had been five years. "I am Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "My, what a title. And what do Potter and the Weasel do?"
"Harry is Head Auror, and Ron works at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with his brother."
Malfoy smirked. "Potter, an Auror? And how is that occupation treating him?"
"If you must know, Harry is wonderful at what he does. He could have been anything he wanted, but-"
"Okay, okay, I get it. So, are you and Weasley still together? By the looks of it, you two didn't seem to be having a splendid time."
Hermione looked away. "That's none of your business, Malfoy."
Malfoy sighed. "I- I'm sorry, Granger."
Hermione looked back at him in absolute shock. "Did Draco Malfoy just apologize? To a Muggleborn?"
"Hey, I don't care about all that blood stuff anymore, okay? I admit it, I was wrong. And...I'm sorry. For everything. I just want to move past all of that."
Hermione raised one eyebrow skeptically, but when she looked into his eyes, she somehow knew that his apology was genuine. "I-"
"Draco!" Before she had the chance to respond, two women ran up to them. She recognized one of them from Hogwarts. "Draco, this is my sister, Astoria. Astoria, meet Draco Malfoy."
Draco shook his head. "Daphne, can't you see that we're in the middle of something?" Daphne narrowed her eyes and motioned behind him. He turned around to see Hermione walking away and into the crowd.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please comment! Thanks!
4. III
Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour.
He was currently visiting his mother at Malfoy Manor; a decision which he was regretting more and more as she continued to speak.
"My son, all I am trying to tell you is that I am not getting any younger, and neither are you. When are you going to settle down and start a family?" Narcissa Malfoy put her teacup in its saucer and motioned around her. "This will all be yours one day, Draco. I want to see little Malfoy's running through the halls of their ancestors, before I-" |
5ca6c2ab3ca1406e98c36cfadd4d1d70 | ['22e12bc6fde14aca8efe0522248eb6f2'] | “The Bank Saloon? God help you, Kaz, if you booked some fleabag place for us to sleep in tonight, I’m shaving your head,” Nina snarled. He glared at her, reaching a gloved hand to his hair.
“It is the midway point between the train station and the road to the prison,” Kaz snapped. “It’s for a single night, Zenik. Try not to go into hysterics. Apologies that Carson City doesn’t have the featherdown pillows a girl of your calibre is used to.”
A crumpled brochure of the sights of the town bounced off his head in reply before hitting the dusty floor.
\---
Kaz had booked three rooms in a dumpy motor hotel. Carson City, while not much to look at, had plenty of frightening places one could sleep in if desperate. The dusty brick building looked ancient, though little in this town had existed for more than 100 years. After checking in with a leathery woman, room assignments had been given out: Nina and Inej in one; Kaz on his lonesome; and Jesper and Wylan taking the final room. They convened in Jesper and Wylan’s room to hear Kaz’s plan.
As the door creaked open, Jesper winked at Wylan and told him he’d better not hog all the covers.
“Wh-what do you mean? We have separate beds, right?” he managed to stutter out. An echo of laughter from the rest of the group followed the pair into the room. With a solitary double bed.
The room was nothing to write home about, not that Wylan intended on telling his father about his...adventures. Or that he had the capability to put pen to paper and make words form into something resembling a letter. And where was home at this point anyway? The large house on the outskirts of town that his father lived in with Wylan’s new _step-mother_? Where his mother once lived? Was it the dingy squat a few blocks from the Crow Club, lovingly referred to as “the Slat” by its residents? Truthfully, Wylan wasn’t sure. He felt adrift in a town he knew like the back of his hand. Or so he had thought. His education with the Dregs was proving that Las Vegas was not the city he once thought it was.
Nina bounced onto the bed to sit at the head with Inej crawling in beside her. In the cramped room, there was little else place to sit. Kaz settled for leaning against what Wylan could only assume was meant to be a dresser, while Jesper allowed the bathroom door to hold him up. Thankfully, the girls had left space at the end of the bed for Wylan.
“Tell us, O Masterful Leader, how we’re planning on sneaking into a high-security prison, stealing a prisoner, and then getting out without ending up in stripes ourselves?” Jesper asked.
Kaz paused for dramatic effect before pulling out papers from his coat. Spread out over the bedspread, they were recognizable as maps of both Carson City and the prison. Kaz pulled a fountain pen out of one of his endless pockets and pointed at the map detailing NSP.
“This is the vault we’re hitting tomorrow night,” he began. “Nevada State Prison is one of the most highly guarded in the country. For those of you unfortunate enough to not be from this paradise of a state, it was the first in the nation to carry out executions by gas chamber.”
Nina flinched, but Wylan wasn’t entirely sure why. Inej moved closer to the Russian girl and gestured for Kaz to continue his lecture.
“We’ll go in with the night-shift cleaners. I have paperwork that will get us inside. Nina, Inej, and Wylan will follow this path.” He traced a line from the servant’s entrance to a cell block two floors above. “You’ll wait for me there.”
Wylan shifted uncomfortably at the thought of sneaking into a high-security prison without Dirtyhands at their side. He noted the frown Jesper adopted; he didn’t look any happier than Wylan felt. He opened his mouth, but Kaz raised a hand.
“From there, we’ll move to Helvar’s position here,” he continued, gesturing to a square marked with a red star. “He’ll be knocked out by Nina and secured in the underneath of a cleaning cart. We’ll exit here and leave in the van Jesper will be waiting with.”
“I don’t like it,” said Jesper. Kaz raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to. This is the plan. I need you waiting with the car. There’s not going to be any shooting in the prison. I need Inej if we need further intel. I need Nina to knock Helvar out. A sharpshooter isn’t much use in a covert operation.” His voice was cold in the face of Jesper’s sulk.
“Then why do we need someone fluent in demo?” asked Nina. “I’m assuming there won’t be any need for blowing something up.”
Wylan glanced down at the lines of the maps. Internally, he had been wondering the same thing. Kaz tossed him jobs occasionally, but he wasn’t the best demo man the Dregs had. His inclusion on jobs, especially on one being held as close to the chest as this one, often felt like a mistake. He was always waiting for someone to say, _hey, wait, why is this kid here?_ Wylan never integrated well into the rest of the gang. Kaz hadn’t even told him to go down to the tattoo parlour the others used to have the crow and cup inked into his arm. The fifteen-year old was beginning to wonder if he would ever fit in anywhere. If he couldn’t make it with this bunch of misfits and thieves, what hope was there for him for the rest of the world?
Kaz and Inej shared a long look that was punctuated by the small girl furrowing her brows in discontent. | 4d1791b5d8404e6e81f0ade80cc111df | ['22e12bc6fde14aca8efe0522248eb6f2'] | Nina tuned out their banter and turned to the arena. Matthias was led off stage by one of the scampering Dime Lions. The cart rolled past her table, allowing Nina a glance at the food. Badly imitated German fare. The pretzels were limp. The schnitzel looked poorly breaded and soggy. Even the beer was too pale.
_A wretched trade for a life_ , Nina thought. The next competitors were brought out and she forced herself to watch the fight.
\---
“If you poke me one more time with that cane, Brekker, I am going to push my way into that monstrosity you call a brain and–” Nina stopped short as Inej clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her to a halt.
“Shh!” she hissed. “Listen.”
Shuffling sounds and a tinkling of keys echoed from down the circular hall. Nina strained her ears to hear more over the ambient sounds caused by so many men living on top of each other. A voice sliced through clear, like shattered glass on a still night.
“Can it, Helvar. Keep your trap shut and we all get out scot free.”
Inej glanced around before spotting a target. Above them was a vent. Nina tried to decipher the quick, silent conversation Inej and Kaz had, but it was over before she understood. Kaz’s gloved fingers wove into a basket to boost the small girl up. Luckily they were all out of their ridiculous frippery and back in regular clothing. Saints, they had some luck; the vent opened without a sound. Inej was in the vent in the blink of an eye. Wylan reached to swing the vent door closed before Kaz beckoned him and Nina back into the office.
_How does she_ do _that?_ Nina thought as Inej dropped from the vent in the guard’s office moments later. She hadn’t even heard her crawling around not two feet above them.
“A couple, one man one woman. The woman is trying to heal Helvar while the man keeps guard. No one I’ve ever seen before, but the woman looks like trouble,” Inej reported under her breath.
“Trouble? Another gang?” Wylan asked.
“There’s a tattoo of some kind of blade on her arm,” Inej admitted. “But I’ve never seen it before. Almost like a star. Definitely not one of the Vegas gangs.”
“Nevermind that,” Kaz said abruptly. Inej looked at him, curious. Whatever the other girl saw, Nina couldn’t detect. “Anything about their motives? Who sent them?”
Inej shook her head. “Nothing. Though, they’re definitely not on the right side of the law.”
“Nina,” Kaz barked. “Go around the other side. Take Inej. Wylan and I will engage and you two will come in as soon as their attention is on us.”
The girls took off around the loop immediately. Inej’s feet made no sound and Nina struggled to make herself as invisible as the Wraith. She failed, but the sounds of the inmates shuffling in their sleep and snoring covered her footfalls. When they were just out of sight of the two strangers, Inej gestured for her to stop in the darkened hall. The smaller girl pulled out one of her knives– _where on Earth did that come from?_ –and Nina lifted her hands.
“The man is closest to us. I’ll get a blade on him and you cut off the woman’s air,” breathed Inej into her ear. She had to stretch _en pointe_ to reach.
“Bit rude to come in and steal the one we’re taking?” Nina heard Kaz drawl. “Takes a lot of moxie.”
Nina rounded the corner and got the woman in her sights. One clenched fist brought the her to her knees, clutching her throat. Inej danced like the ghost she was named for and held the knife to the man’s throat. He went down just as easily as the woman. Kaz and Wylan came around the corner and stood in front of the interlopers. The man’s head jutted back from Inej’s grasp on his hair, allowing Dirtyhands to look him dead in the eye. Kaz blanched. The man smiled bright and licked his bottom lip.
“Now now,” he said. His voice cut like the sharpest edges of Kaz’s cruelest snarl. Inej’s eyes focused on Kaz’s face as she tightened her hold. The other girl’s anxiety made Nina focus even more intently on the woman struggling to breathe at her feet. The cane Kaz held fell from a gloved hand.
“Is that any way to greet your brother?”
7. Kaz
_Liar. Liar. Liar liar liar li--_
The word repeated in Kaz’s head like a siren. This skiv couldn’t be Jordie. His brother was dead. Long dead. Lost to the pathetic currents of the cesspool Lake Mead. _I watched him die. I watched the waves take his body away. Liar. Liar. Liar._
The Wraith pulled the man’s head back by his hair. And the other shoe dropped.
_“Careful, my loves!” shouted his mother from her place on the picnic blanket. Kaz and Jordie ran on, heedless of her warnings._
_Lake Tahoe was beautiful. A near endless sea encircled by stretching, snow-capped mountains. While the water was too cold to comfortably swim in, the beaches were a paradise. The Rietveld family took their summer vacations in a cabin once owned by the boys’ grandmother. To children aged five and nine, Lake Tahoe was as far away from life on the dusty farm as the moon._
_Kaz sprinted as fast as he could, determined to finally beat his big brother in something. They went on neck-in-neck, until Jordie’s perpetually untied shoes got in the way. He tumbled down to the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom that Kaz realized something was wrong with his brother. The green grass was now a vibrant red and Jordie wouldn’t stop screaming._
_It took ten stitches to close the skin under his brother’s jaw. When Jordie threw his head back and laughed, the gleaming scar was all anyone could see._ |
dcff9f36544d44e7b3ab44bb82eecfa7 | ['22fa018079764de68a14e9b736d6e023'] | ‘Duchess’ she scowled. ‘Ridiculous name. Hastur and Ligur seem to think it’s still the 70’s. I narrowly avoided the flared trousers. Narrowly’ she held her thumb and index finger in front of Aziraphale’s face, closing the gap between them until it was tiny. She took another gulp of her drink.
‘You’re good. I’ve never heard you sing like that’
‘I’m not good, I’m fantastic’ the accompanying smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Thanks’ she pushed herself away from the bar and glanced around in search of a seat, heading towards the doors that led to the smoking area.
‘Do you still smoke then?’
‘Why are you doing this, angel?’
‘What?’
‘Talking to me like this. We’re not friends’
‘We were’
‘Were we?’
‘Weren’t we?’
‘We had an arrangement of mutual convenience, angel. I didn’t have friends’
Aziraphale scoffed.
‘You had plenty of friends, Crowley. Every time I saw you, you were with a different crowd, planning something-or-other’
‘Something-or-other was as long as those ‘friendships’ ever lasted, angel’
‘Stop calling me that’
‘Why? You are. So good. You even look like one now. You’ve got a halo’
Aziraphale felt as though she ought to feel insulted, but beneath the posturing there was no bite to any of Crowley’s words. If she had really wanted to insult her, she would have done it. And part of her was reluctantly flattered by the halo comment, hand reaching up to touch her curls. Crowley gave a soft laugh.
‘I knew you were secretly vain, angel’ she teased. ‘What would daddy say?’
‘Please never call him that again’
Crowley grinned, her eyes lighting up like she’d been plugged into the mains socket.
‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist’
‘No. You were good at tempting people, not so good at resisting temptation’ Aziraphale remarked, draining the remainder of her drink.
‘Speaking of temptation, a re-fill?’ Crowley slipped the glass from Aziraphale’s hand, meeting her eyes with a glimmer of amusement.
‘Oh, yes, thank you’
Aziraphale’s eyes did not drift to Crowley’s backside as she made her way back to the bar. And she was certainly not, in her wine-drunk state, beginning to entertain thoughts of wrapping her legs around Crowley’s waist and kissing her until they were eventually kicked out of the bar. If her father had any idea what kind of thoughts were running through her head, he would have a stroke.
As if summoned, Crowley re-emerged, holding two considerably larger glasses of wine, another bottle tucked under her arm.
‘Cheers’ she said, raising her glass momentarily before throwing it down her throat with a grimace, Aziraphale watching with mild horror and rising concern.
‘Thank you’ she took a sip from her own glass. It was, by all accounts, terrible wine.
‘So…what are you up to these days?’ Crowley asked lightly, pouring herself another glass of wine.
‘I have a bookshop’
Crowley laughed
‘Of course you do. Are they all bibles or have you branched out a little?’ she leaned against the nearest table, fixing Aziraphale again with those glimmering eyes.
‘I’m not my father’ Aziraphale snapped back. Crowley raised an eyebrow
‘M’ only teasing, angel’
‘Stop calling me that, Crowley! You said it yourself. We’re not friends’
It was as if she’d thrown her drink in Crowley’s face, her smile spluttering out like a damp candle.
‘I always wanted to be your friend, Aziraphale’ she murmured, reaching for the bottle of wine as she turned to leave.
‘Crowley, I-‘
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> God knows where I was originally going with this, but I'd better think of something!
**Author's Note:**
> Literally any form of engagement with this fic is very welcome | c51664f04ebe48eb93b4acec8fc822a2 | ['22fa018079764de68a14e9b736d6e023'] | Terraforming
**Author's Note:**
> I've had that last line stuck in my head for weeks and got really emo about Newt feeling alone and insecure and how his mind always runs at a million miles a minute and how it must have been really easy for the Precursors to weaponise that, and also after listening to Call Me Newt a couple dozen times it sounds like there's whispering? So I headcanon that Newt maybe also has auditory hallucinations and the Precursors are bastards.
>
> I don't have a beta reader and I basically whipped this straight out and put it up so please excuse any mistakes (it's also my first PacRim fic and my second fic I've posted ever so comments are very welcome!)
>
> Edit: Also, Burn Gorman isn't dough-faced, he's beautiful. But alien colonisers have questionable judgement.
They’d been here before, as a trial run.
But the atmosphere wasn’t conducive, right?
There was too much fear, the neural load too much, altogether overwhelming. It was a miracle the experience hadn’t killed him.
So they waited it out. And they waited it out
They were patient. They had been waiting for this planet for millenia. It was a small matter, trivial, to wait the minutes it took for Newton Geiszler to drift again.
Even with company, anchoring into his mind was child’s play. All those memories competing for dominance, and with another mind in the mix, so many emotions to pull and manipulate, to twist into the perfect disguise. The hive mind felt the euphoria of his victory, the surge of affection at the sight of that stupid, dough-faced scientist, the crushing exhaustion as weeks of sleep deprivation and the full weight of multiple near-death experiences and the trauma of drifting with another species not once, but twice, finally came crashing upon him.
Newton Geiszler slept.
They heard the whispers, felt the velocity of his thoughts, like an explosion in a vacuum, even in sleep too fast for his mouth, his eyes, his brain to keep up with. They listened, to the echoes that rang through the cavernous network of his brilliant mind. The insecurity, the self-loathing that formed so many of those tunnels and the desperate bravado that attempted to cover them.
Such a curious mind.
And so unguarded, his weaknesses laid bare, a glittering temptation before them.
_They might come back_
_You could be a rock star_
There is so, so much still to discover
_What else have you got_ ?
_Nothing_
_He’s leaving_
_You should let him_
_You should leave first_
_He'll never love you_
_So stupid. For such a clever man_
After all, what was one more voice among dozens? Always questioning, always self-doubt.
Newton Geiszler’s mind fell within weeks.
He’d practically terraformed it for them. |
fe3bd27199e54749a6716c7f9ec37c73 | ['230c024095104f82a0b824c96e87b1c8'] | Spike's mouth was forming words, but Xander hadn't heard a sound since this dream started. It was completely silent. Still, Xander stopped, not touching him, just in case. Spike gave him a desperate look and twined fingers in his hair. He didn't pull, but Xander could see his lips shape the word 'please.' That was enough for Xander, who moved forward and took Spike's cock into his mouth. He'd not given many blowjobs. He'd only been out for a few months when Spike started writing to him. Xander had fallen in love with him from thousands of miles away, though it was months before he would admit it to himself, much less the man who was still a vampire at the time. But again, with the strange perfection you only see in dreams, the moved together like a single being. Xander was able to swallow Spike all the way down with ease. Spike started to thrust erratically, and Xander stroked himself, knowing they were both close.
Xander woke with a start, his mouth salty and bitter, and the sheets sticky where he'd come. A few rooms down, Spike also woke with sticky sheets. If anyone could hear them both, they would have heard both men swear in unison.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Present opening was somewhat strained the next morning. The whole group held their breath when Spike held out a square box in blue and silver paper to Xander. Xander took it, exchanging it for an unwrapped book. "The man at the bookstore told me the acid in the wrapping paper would be bad for the book. It's kinda old."
Spike looked at the cover without speaking for several moments. "This must have cost a fortune." He stroked the cover, like he was trying to soothe the book instead of himself.
Xander just shrugged. "It's not like I don't have it to spend. I thought you'd like it." He looked down.
"Oh, I do, pet. Not too many people can make me speechless. How did you know I liked Caverley?"
"You had the book when you lived in the basement. You hid it in the locked box in the closet most of the time, but once you left it between the couch cushions." Xander cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that I didn't save yours, but I think this one is from the same printing."
"Should open yours, Xander." Spike's voice was rough.
"Oh, yeah." Xander picked the paper off carefully, and opened the box. He pulled out a lump of amber bigger than his fist with a perfect [](http:) luna moth trapped inside. "Wow," he breathed. "This is amazing."
They avoided each other's eyes for the rest of the afternoon.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spike was the first to leave. He hugged the girls goodbye, and shook hands with Giles and Xander. Xander sat in his chair and stared at the door for a long time after he left. Giles put a hand on his arm after twenty minutes or so. "Do you want a ride home?"
"Yeah, I think that'd be good." Goodbyes were said, and hugs given. Dawn demanded comp tickets to his next London concert, which were duly promised. When they finally escaped to the car, Xander leaned his head against the back of the seat and close his eyes.
"Xander, is there anything I can do to help you?" Giles said, as they sat in the car outside Willoughby Street. "I can see that this situation is still causing you some pain."
Xander snorted. "Understatement of the year, G-man." He sat up and looked at the house across the street. "I can't seem to leave him behind. I know he doesn't want me. But I still want him. I can't be near him without wanting to touch him, but I'd rather die than spend another two years without him." Xander leaned his head on the dashboard. "I told him that I wanted to be his friend, but I think that might actually kill me. What am I going to do?"
"I think it's a little hasty to say he doesn't want you." Giles pulled a small book, almost a pamphlet, out of his pocket and handed it to Xander.
"Victorian Love Symbolism?" Xander raised a querying eyebrow at Giles.
"Flip through it when you have the time. You might find it enlightening." He fixed Xander with a serious look. "Also I'd like you to take into consideration that there might be emotional consequences to finding yourself suddenly human, after over a hundred years of being one of the most notorious vampires in history." Giles looked away, out the window, at the sliver of moon overhead. "If you love him, you'll wait until he gets over his crisis of conscience."
Xander had no doubt it was Ethan Rayne who Giles wished had waited for him. He wondered if the mage was still with the Initiative, and shuddered. Maybe there were some favors he could pull in from the various slayers and non-violent demons he'd met in his travels. He made a mental note to make some calls. "I know, Giles. I do love him, and I'm trying to wait. It just hurts. I wish I knew what happened."
"He'll talk about it when he's ready, son." He smoothed Xander's hair off his forehead.
Between the endearment and the unusually affectionate gesture, Xander was a little flustered. "I should, uh… go get some sleep. We're going to start recording tomorrow."
"Good night, Xander. Don't be a stranger."
"Won't. I'll have my cell." Xander waved and bounded up the stairs.
Giles sighed as he waited for the door to be unlocked, and Xander to be safely inside. London's outskirts were hardly Sunnydale, but you couldn't be too careful.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- | 768714e59fb749b4820a6ba594999d8b | ['230c024095104f82a0b824c96e87b1c8'] | Cassidy is just finishing his first one. He looks at Jesse. “You asking as Preacher or as my mate?”
Jesse finishes his second beer and gets them another round from the fridge. “I can’t be both?”
“You’re a little judgy on the Preacher side, just sayin.” Cassidy replies.
Jesse takes the criticism better than Cassidy had feared. “All right then. I’ll try to leave him out of it.”
Cassidy shakes his head. “Don’t you think we have bigger problems? What’re you gonna do about Genesis?”
“Whaddya mean what am I gonna do? I’m keeping it like I said.”
“I dunno, Padre.” Cassidy has to look away. “Now, those fellers might not seem like the sharpest shivs in heaven’s shed, I mean, but still, you said they were bloody angels.”
Jesse lifts his chin. “Yeah, and?”
“And I don’t know how it works, but don’t... I dunno. Don’t they outrank you?” Cassidy asks. “Don’t you kinda have to listen to them?”
“I don’t have to listen to anyone but God.” Jesse insists.
Cassidy sighs. “Oh. Forgot about his plan for you and all that.” Jesse is headed straight for the deep end, and Cassidy has no bloody idea how to stop him.
Jesse doesn’t seem to understand the source of Cassidy’s disquiet. “You still doubt that? After everything that’s happened?”
Cassidy shrugs. “I doubt everything all the time. It’s the only way to live.”
“Well that’s where you and I part company,” Jesse says piously.
Cassidy only doesn’t roll his eyes because Jesse really is his best mate. “Look, I’m just saying, if it was up to me, I wouldn’t be messin around with it!”
“Well, it’s not up to you, Cassidy. It’s up to me.” Jesse won’t be moved. But he crosses the room to sit closer.
Cassidy hates himself a little for how much that mollifies him. “All right then. All right. What’re you gonna do? Come on?”
Jesse looks surprised. “Same as before,” he explains. “Nothing’s changed.” His eyes flicker up and down Cassidy’s body like flames. “Still a lot more goin on around here that needs doin.”
“Like what?” Cassidy says, throwing up his hands. Jesse is a good man, but stubborn as a rock. “More what?”
“More,” Jesse replies dreamily. “What about you?”
Cassidy laughs. “Am I something that needs doin?”
Jesse’s eyes flicker over him again. “Maybe.” But before Cassidy can decide whether to be afraid or turned on, the washer stops. “I’ll throw those in the dryer,” he points at Cassidy. “Don’t use all the hot water.”
***
Cassidy gives up on not masturbating when ice cold water does nothing to stop him from getting hard. It’s not really cheating if he only touches himself, right? Even if he can’t stop thinking about what kind of orders the Preacher could give. He can’t think of a damn thing he wouldn’t do if Jesse just asked, but for some reason thinking of Jesse’s parlor trick in Jesse’s terms makes it better. The Word. The literal, actual word of God. Coming from the mouth of a very attractive man. And Cassidy wouldn’t be able to screw it up. Jesse could keep him under control. Jesse’s God must know that Cassidy couldn’t do it for himself. He shakes his head, laughing at himself as he soaps his hand, leaning back against the wall. How fucked up is he that the idea of inescapable bondage to another man’s voice is the safest he can imagine feeling, and that’s what’s making him hard, when he’s also in love with probably the most dangerous woman he’s ever met. She’d come closer to killing him than the vampire hunters.
Well. That’s kind of a boner killer isn’t it? He concentrates on Jesse. The man clearly had a taste for inflicting pain. He remembered the near sexual look of satisfaction on Jesse’s face when he’d broken that Confederate asshole’s arm. He’s fully hard again in seconds. He squeezes his cock and wonders if Jesse could get off on a more controlled form of damage. Cassidy can take one hell of a beating and be just fine with some blood. He wonders if Jesse could order him to come and that’s so good he has to stroke himself. He hisses softly at the intensity of the pleasure. He does it again, slowly and firmly, thinking about Jesse’s voice making his orgasm inescapable. He’s nearly there when it occurs to him. Jesse could order him not to, and it would be impossible. An image crystallizes so clearly in his mind - himself, naked, head down, arse up on the Preacher’s bed, Jesse ploughing into him, but it feels so good, and Jesse says “Don’t come,” and slaps his ass... How high on pleasure could he get before Jesse made him come? The idea that Jesse could deny him rolls over him like a wave of fire, and paradoxically, makes him come harder than he has since he was 18 and just starting to make headway with girls. Tulip. She’s a girl. And at least she wants him for something. Even if he doesn’t believe it’s love.
He turns the shower off and gets out, feeling colder than he had under the water.
3. Tulip: Don't give a damn about my bad reputation
Tulip can’t find Jesse yet again, and she knows exactly who she’s going to take it out on. She knows Emily wants the whole Preacher thing. She’d be the wife and she and Jesse would raise her brats and they would be “Preacher Custer and his Wife”. God, they’d probably have a fucking reality show on TLC. Nauseating. She drives to Emily’s house, storms in and Jesse isn’t there either. It just makes her angrier.
“Excuse me,” Emily says, and Tulip can tell she’s trying not to be angry and that makes her even angrier. |
6dd8d8fdfa6c4a4b9c6b0c7e44089654 | ['230e057cc94b4b6aa0e528ea80cbd4a1'] | “Is that so?” Brune tugged Link’s hair once, sharply. “Finished,” he sang, making the musical quality of his voice even more melodious. “You were wearing the tail too high,” he pointed out while Link’s hands felt at the back of his head. “It should be even with the bottom of your ears--no, _not_ the lobes. The point where the ears connect to your head.” He guided Link’s searching finger further along to the small space between his earlobe and the top of his jaw line. “That’s how the Regn men wore their hair. Why the earrings, though? That was a more feminine trend in the tribe.”
“For my mother and sister,” Link explained in a low voice as he turned around. He jerked back from the necklace he found hanging in his face. Cerul was holding it up in an inviting way. From the loop of hemp that made up the necklace hung a center-cut seashell. The hollows around the exposed columella gave the shell a leaf-like appearance.
“Chula,” Cerul said, naming the shell. He dropped the necklace over Link’s head. The shell clacked against the howlite arrowhead in a pleasing way.
Link traced the inside of a hollow in admiration. “How much?”
“Mmmm…” Brune shared a look with Cerul, who said something in Zoran and shrugged. “Just a smile,” Brune said, turning back to Link. “It’s a special sale today.”
Link complied. The smile stiffened a little when Cerul reached out to coax his chin up a little higher.
“That’s better,” Brune said, nodding in approval of Cerul’s adjustment. “Keep your head up, little Regn Hylian. You have a heavy weight on your shoulders, so keep your head up or that weight will drag you down and drown you.” Link bowed his head in both a promise to try and in thanks.
“Tell your friends about us,” Brune called as Link left the store. “We have half-off weekend sales every weekend.” Link had no reply for that, so he waved a final goodbye and ducked back into the flow of people outside the shop.
Ganondorf was waiting by the horses with his arms folded atop the hitching rail and his eyes studying the sea. “You look a little less green now than you did when we got here,” the Gerudo king remarked when Link reached him. “Feeling better?” Link nodded. “Let’s see the damage then.”
Link handed over the purse, but Ganondorf tucked it away without counting the remaining rupees, which to Link’s credit were still numerous in number. “Let’s get out of here, huh?” Ganondorf said as he swung up into his saddle. “It’s much quieter only a mile away.”
Ganondorf led the way along a little-used road that swept up the cape and down its other side. At the top of the road, Link stopped Epona to take in the completely different view. No ships or docks choked the shoreline on this side of the cape. Instead, a sweeping arm of tan sand caught each wave that rushed in and crashed against the beach. Dunes, spotted with scraggly brush and driftwood, gave the area an almost abandoned look. Link found himself liking the beach at first sight. When he and Epona reached the bottom of the road and came within earshot of the roar of the waves, he liked it even more.
The horses were freed of their tack and let loose. Epona was skittish for a short while. The first wave that crashed over her hooves sent her trotting away with ears back and tail tucked. Torrent’s ease with the water helped Epona to adjust. She stopped running away and started to experiment with the waves by pawing at the shallows and sampling the salty water. Her head rose often to the birds wheeling overhead, squalling and riding the sea breezes.
Link watched Epona as he stripped down to his pants and peeled off his boots. He could understand her initial fright. The sea, as Ganondorf had said, was magnificent, but it gave the impression of caring nothing for anything that got in its way. Even the land submitted to its eroding power, slowly but surely, over the course of the years. The sand underfoot was the very evidence of that.
Link followed a moss-tipped tern gliding over him as he pulled off his second boot. He tossed it into the sand along with the rest of his belongings and glanced at Ganondorf in time to see the man pull off his shirt. A spread of black lines and shapes against his greenish-brown skin was revealed. Link hurried over for a closer look, stumbling on a low rise of sand. “Is that a… a…” The word wouldn’t come. He had heard it spoken only once, and in passing.
Ganondorf looked back over his shoulder. _“Tatau,”_ he supplied. He tossed his shirt down and tilted his head to each side in a thought-searching gesture. “That’s probably the closest you’ll get. Hylian has no word for it.”
“I’ve seen one before,” Link said as his eyes tracked the marking, marveling. “It was a lot smaller, though, on the back of a trader’s hand. It was his daughter’s name.”
“He must have passed through the Gerudo territory at some point. I don’t think anyone in Hyrule knows the art.”
“So what is it?” Link asked. “I see the dragons, but what’s all this script? And the symbols?” He reached out and traced one of the two entwined dragons that made up the largest portion of the design. He forgot he was looking at an expanse of skin, so he was surprised to see the dragons twitch when Ganondorf chuckled at his enthusiasm. Or perhaps the Gerudo king was just ticklish. | d07c27110dcd4c9a961a1c2344efdcd4 | ['230e057cc94b4b6aa0e528ea80cbd4a1'] | Link hurriedly shook his head and forced a smile when Ganondorf’s brow furrowed in concern. His thin fingers slipped out of the other man’s larger ones. _Ever been on anti-depressants?_ Link signed. When Ganondorf shook his head, Link explained, _They make it hard to get off. Try me again in the morning when my medicine has worn off._
“Guess that means I need an excuse to stay over sometime,” Ganondorf teased. Link smiled at that, slipped off of the bed, and picked up Gengle. While he spoiled the cat with attention, Ganondorf ducked into the bathroom to do his best to clean himself up. The damp spot left behind in his briefs reminded him of Link’s dominance for the rest of the evening.
Zelda’s voice rang out from downstairs, calling her brother and guest to dinner. Ganondorf took a last few seconds to check his clothes in the bathroom mirror, and he caught sight of a darker spot against his brown neck. Well, there was no hiding that. He joined Link for the walk downstairs, and upon entering the dining room he noticed Zelda’s eyes flick almost at once to the mark. The gaze flicked away just as quickly, but it was impossible to read any opinion Zelda had on her face.
Link was a lively presence at dinner—a rarity, Impa noted with warmth in her words. Perhaps his and Ganondorf’s time upstairs had put him into a good mood, or perhaps he was trying to soften his sister up. Ganondorf thought it was a bit of both. It worked to Link’s favor either way. When he carefully broached the subject of going to practice once more, Zelda only sat in silence for a few seconds and looked between him and Ganondorf.
“If I say no,” she eventually replied, “your boyfriend will only sneak you out again, won’t he?” She sighed before Link could answer. “If it’s important to you… I suppose. But I swear Link, if something happens again this will be the absolute _last_ time. Do you understand me?”
Link answered with a solemn nod, and not a half-hour after dinner he, Zelda, and Ganondorf were on their way to the music hall. In the back of Zelda’s car, Link sat next to Ganondorf with his oboe case held tight in his lap. Ganondorf reached out to take hold of a tense hand, and Link gave him a thankful look.
In the practice room backstage, Ganondorf stuck close by Link while Zelda went ahead into the hall. Link didn’t bother trying to soothe his nerves with the piano; once his oboe was pieced together he walked out to the stage. Only when Link was among his fellow musicians did Ganondorf finally relax. He joined Zelda in the second row of center seats, behind the spread of instrument cases, and stretched out his legs as much as the aisle allowed.
“So,” Zelda murmured, and Ganondorf’s gut twisted at her tone. “Did you have a _satisfying_ visit today?”
Ganondorf was reminded of the spot of dampness under his jeans. He crossed his legs at the ankles and tried to relax. “It was nice, yeah,” he replied in as casual a voice as he could manage. In the corner of his eye he saw Zelda shoot him an amused look. “We made out,” he elaborated. “That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Zelda turned forward, now with a full smile on her lips. Onstage, Link was warming up his instrument alongside his fellow woodwinds. “Ghirahim’s late again. He’s always late nowadays, Groose said.”
“No surprise there,” Ganondorf remarked, shrugging. “Wanna take bets on how late he’ll be?”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t show up at all,” Zelda returned. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
For a while, it appeared Zelda’s wish would hold true. Snippets of songs and scales faded away to restless chatter as the minutes mounted. Soon the stage was filled with the dull roar of dozens of conversations overlapping each other. Laughter spiked here and there. Amidst it all, only Link sat silent. His oboe rested on his lap, and he shot frequent looks towards the hall’s entrance. When he stood up, placing his oboe carefully down on his emptied chair, hardly anyone noticed. It wasn’t until he had stepped onto the conductor’s podium, picked up the baton from the stand there, and tapped it a few times did the musicians finally fall quiet and look to him.
Expectation fell to confusion, and then amusement. One of the harpists called out, “Link, I didn’t know you were a maestro!” It was in good fun, and the musicians shared a laugh. Link only smiled sheepishly.
“Can Link conduct?” Ganondorf asked Zelda.
She nodded in confidence. “Yes, and he’s quite good—better than Ghirahim for sure.”
Ganondorf looked back to the podium. It was clear by Link’s hunched posture that he was second-guessing his actions. “Come on, Link,” Ganondorf whispered. “Have courage.”
It was as if Link heard him. The thin body straightened out, and the baton was raised in a nimble hand. On cue, the musicians took up their instruments. They were willing enough to follow Link’s lead, and that gave Link the confidence he needed. He cued his fellow oboist, and the orchestra tuned itself to the note in a swell of sound. Link cut it off with a closed fist and fell to refining an instrument’s pitch here and there. When the tuning note rang out again, it was far more harmonious.
Next came warm-up practices, and it was during this latter when the entrance door opened, revealing a smug Ghirahim. He faltered upon reaching the stage, having seen who was on the podium, and Zelda noticed his pale hands tighten into fists. Her own hands clenched, and she made to rise.
Ganondorf stopped her with a gentle hand. “Link will be fine,” he assured her with more confidence than he felt. “Ghirahim can’t hurt him in front of all these people.” |
e7f3beacc3f648988187c32771fb45cc | ['2319d7ddbe8148989df3c97dfc7a7439'] | > I've already written all the smut (Because I'm a perv) I go back and forth between just giving them to you guys in one shots or just waiting for chapters to fill in xD
>
> Cheers!
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for the comments and kudos!
>
> If you want to see any specific scenes or have any ideas for upcoming chapters, let me know!
Yuri planted himself on a plastic chair at the back of the arena. He was the winner of the Junior Grand Prix and he wanted to see what he was up against when he would join the seniors next year. First out was Japanese skater Katsuki Yuuri. He had seen him a few times, never in real life though. He was famous for his steps and spins (and falls) and one of the skaters Yuri actually looked up to. Yuri was good, really good, but he had never been able to portray anything other than determination on the ice. His component scores suffered from it.
The music began and Yuuri glided from steps to spins and landed his first jump when it hit Yuri. A heady smell of alpha making him move around with discomfort as he began to feel himself heat up and a slow whine escaping his mouth.
Yuri quickly stumbled to his feet, people looking at him curiously, a few glowing alpha eyes watching him with intent as he stepped out into the corridors.
Yuuri clutched the wall with one hand, the other clenching his aching chest. He was able to catch glimpses of Yuuri's skate on a big screen and boy did that skater know how to fuck up. He was falling left and right and looked miserable when the music ended. But instead of greeting the audience he was doing something else. Looking up at the crowded arena he seemed like he was looking for something... Or someone. When he didn't seem to find what he was looking for he glided towards the kiss and cry with hunched shoulders.
Yuri had now quelled the heating sensation within him. He had presented two years ago, and usually, he had his omega side under control. He was on suppressants, what had caused him to almost go into heat, in the middle of a crowd?!
Could it be... No... That's crazy. He entertained the thought that the fumbling mess Katsuki Yuuri was the one making him feel like this. The thought of that delicious smell made his heart flutter to attention. Was Yuuri even an alpha? He never heard anything about it, but Yuuri was a pretty private person. He didn't do interviews often and he usually responded to intimate questions with silence.
It could have been anyone in the crowd really. Hoping it was a top skater was just his own stupid hopeful heart.
But he had to know.
He stomped towards the men's locker room when he saw Yuuri sprinting towards a bathroom stall further ahead.
He hurried after.
But when he was about to open the door he heard someone crying. Light sobs filled the air and Yuri realized it must be Yuuri crying in there.
He felt betrayed. The smell from the bathroom was clearly omega. He had been a fool, and someone was going to pay for it.
Later he would regret the hurtful things he shouted at the distressed omega. But he couldn't help himself. He thought that he might have found someone important to him. But instead that someone was just a faceless person he would probably never see again.
Now, a year later he found himself in Hasetsu, Japan. About to see Katsuki Yuuri once more.
Their second meeting hadn't been pretty. Yuuri was chatting away about Victor and how he could now skate. He didn't even see him! Yuri was furious and he had once again shouted at the Japanese skater. He had a temper, yes. But what about Yuuri made him lose himself like this? Yuri felt ashamed, just because the skater hadn't turned out to be his mate, being an omega and all, he shouldn't behave like an asshole...
The following week had been agony, him being assigned Agape was like a knife to the heart. He knew Victor didn't want to train him, didn't want him for his pack, or for a mate... He had made that statement loud and clear when Yuri all but begged him to take him into his pack back in Russia. The entire Russian skating team belonged to Victor's pack. Why wasn't he enough, why didn't he want him?! Yuri had barged in on one of Victor's private sessions with Yakov and demanded to be part of the pack. Victor had refused to say he was too young, that he couldn't handle an unmated omega in the pack. So that was it, if he couldn't handle an unmated omega, he was hoping Katsuki would be his mate.
Even though he felt jealous and bitter about Victor picking Katsuki, it had grown increasingly more difficult to hate his opponent. He had been nothing but nice and welcoming towards Yuri. Even though his sister renamed him Yurio and it had somehow spread like wildfire on social media. The triplets were probably to blame... The two skaters were after all spending almost all hours of the day together. From breakfast to training, to dinner, to the Onsen... Yuri tried to stay focused but with Victor making googly eyes at Yuuri and Katsudon being a huge anxious mess it was kind of hard. And there had been that moment in the waterfall when Yuuri grabbed his hand, he had felt... Something, but wasn't sure what it was. When Yuuri asked him to help him with his quad salchow he hoped to repay Yuuri for his former nastiness towards him. His frustration, however, was coming through when Yuuri once more fell flat on his arse. | 2417dbaee554436db82c4ffa8175d8d6 | ['2319d7ddbe8148989df3c97dfc7a7439'] | Wayo threw himself on the bed and grumbled. He'd met Pha for the first time in more than a year... And it had NOT gone, according to plan. He groaned to himself. Maybe coming to this university had been a terrible idea, just like his father had said. If he'd been at home he would play the piano, letting his emotions out through the black and white keys but the piano was at home. He sighed. Just another thing he had to give up to be able to live close to Pha as instruments or loud noises weren't allowed in the complex.
Ming came over to pick him up the next day and they went to eat breakfast in the cafeteria.
"You should have seen it ai'Ming, I acted like an asshole!" Yo sprawled his upper body across the table and Ming laughed his telltale sing-song laugh that usually turned heads wherever they went. Yo looked up to indeed see a couple of girls and boys sitting further down the banquet styled table staring at Ming and giggling to one another. Yo just sighed and sat up again.
"You know the worst part. He's even more gorgeous now..." Wayo's eyes glazed over as he thought about all the times he had watched him from afar in ever since middle school and they way he had looked yesterday standing so close to him... He could have reached out and touched him if he weren't carrying that stupid box of One Piece novels. Smelling Pha's heady aroma again had been like a lightning bolt to his system, making his hormones go into overdrive. He would have to up his suppressants he thought when Ming snapped his fingers in front of him.
"Are you even there??"
Ming looked slightly hurt and Yo looked up feeling ashamed.
"Sorry, fuck! Why am I like this ai'Ming?" he sprawled over the table again and Ming ruffled his hair.
"Because you're in looove" he taunted with a high pitched voice and Yo frowned at him.
"Look, so the first meeting went to shit, at least now he'll remember you” Yo snorted at his friend's assessment while chewing on the straw to his drink. The patch under his shirt itched and he scratched at it without success.
”Hey... ai'Yo...” Ming looked at him with furrowed brows ”Are you wearing a scent-blocker?” Yo nodded sheepishly.
”Why?”
”I... I don't want to be judged...”
”I told your father I'd look after you... You don't need to hide, there's plenty of omegas here” Ming gestured around himself and reached for Yo's hand but the omega pulled away.
”My father is still hoping you and I will end up together you know” Ming said with a wink and Yo just rolled his eyes at him when his friend stretched out a second time, this time grabbing his hand, making Yo meet him halfway and the girls and boys further down the table gasped and one of the girls let out a sad little sound while the boys sounded pleased. Yo scowled at them before looking back at Ming.
”You're my best friend. But we both know we kill each other if we'd ever had to live together” Ming said with a crooked smile showing his white teeth.
”And there's the slight problem that you've only dated girls for as long as I've known you...”
”I've told you, I could date a guy, I just... Haven't found one that interests me...” Ming shrugged and both men sat back in silence for a few long seconds.
”Look, ai'Yo, you're the nicest person I know, be it with the foulest mouth...” Wayo blushed and Ming wiggled his eyebrows ”He'll see that someday, and if he doesn't...” the omega's eyes sank at the mere mention of that outcome and Ming pursed his lips. ”I'll help you, he's not an idiot, he WILL see you in a better light someday”. Wayo raised his head and caught a glance of a big clock on the wall behind his friend.
”Oh shit, I'm late to the meetup for the Moon and Stars thing!” Ming watched his friend rushing off, leaving behind an almost full plate of food and Ming just shook his head and sighed.
~oOo~
”Were you late?” Ming asked and Wayo bit his lip, putting his phone on speaker he continued their conversation.
”I... They made me college Moon...” Wayo groaned and Ming huffed with laughter on the other side.
”But that's great! p'Pha is Campus moon! And you know what that means...” Wayo could practically hear Ming's suggestive eyebrow-wiggle over the phone.
”Yeah what's that...”
”He's gonna take care of all moons and stars from the University! You'll get to see him, oh my god I wish I could be there to watch somehow!” Ming giggled and they talked a bit more before Wayo decided Ming's taunting was enough and hung up, if he went to sleep now he could probably be on time for tomorrows meeting with the other moons and stars. Shuffling down under the covers, he looked up at his collection of framed Phana pictures on the chest of drawers. His heart fluttered, even if meeting Pha really had ”gone to shit” as his friend so kindly put it. He couldn't help the warm feeling filling his chest and as he drifted off to sleep he smiled thinking about the fact that he was sleeping in the same building as Pha.
~oOo~ |
81e58a8532d74244aebb274eca970e6d | ['2336b5bd8be848a78ac0217f39f40f57'] | Hoseok stood still as Taehyung approached him after seeing him standing there. He was about to ask his hyung why he was still up at 1a.m, when the other anticipated him and started questioning him with a slightly aggravated tone.
“Where have you been?”
“You’re still up?”
“Where have you been?” Hoseok repeated demandingly.
Taehyung was a little surprised at Hoseok’s tone but replied anyway.
“I was out…”
“Don’t tell me...” Hoseok retorted with intended irony.
Taehyung frowned at the tone of his hyung and approached the couch, setting his bag down before shifting his attention to the other man again.
“What is this about?” he asked him, crossing his arms.
Hoseok’s frown deepened the longer he stared at the younger man. The later was certainly confused about it all but didn’t break the silence to say a word.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Hoseok’s expression relaxed.
“Forget it.” He muttered just before he started making his way for his room.
Taehyung caught him mid-way, grabbing hold of his arm. The two met eyes as Hoseok looked over his shoulder.
“I was out with friends…” The younger man clarified with a soft tone.
Taehyung thought he might be crazy, but he couldn’t help but notice the way Hoseok’s shoulders relaxed and his jaw loosened. At ease, Taehyung smiled softly at him.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked, voice smooth and sweet, rendering Hoseok unable to ignore the request.
Hoseok agreed with a nod of head and walked to the kitchen where he sat on the table as Taehyung followed in silence.
He sat opposite his hyung, scanning his expression as the other took hold of an apple and took a big bite out of it. He seemed to be starving.
“You should’ve told one of us...we were worried.” He said in between bites.
“As far as I can see you’re the only one who’s worried. I heard Namjoon snoring like a train when I got in.” Taehyung joked, earning himself an unamused glare from Hoseok.
Taehyung chuckled looking down at the table where he soon began to draw invisible patterns with his fingers.
“Were you worried?” he asked almost inaudibly, looking up from his lashes timidly.
Hoseok saw the glance. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to return it. He looked away before answering. “You didn’t tell anyone where you were going…”
“I told Jimi-”
“What good is that? Jimin fell asleep!” the hyung cut the explanation impulsively “We had no idea where you were…”
Taehyung kept his glance glued to the table as Hoseok went back to munching on his apple.
“They called.” he explained “I thought it’d be a good idea to get a break. I was feeling uninspired...”
“Did it work?”
“I think so.”
Hoseok wrapped what was left of his apple on a napkin and threw it in the trash bin close to them.
“I guess the group will benefit then.” He said with a small shrug as his attention shifted to the blonde man.
“I guess…”
“Anyway,” Hoseok diverted “What was it that you wanted to talk about?”
“Ah, that! I just…I don’t know if I should say it…”
“You already mentioned it, you might as well say everything now…“
“It- It’s just that…” Taehyung choked on his words and shifted uncomfortably in his chair “Sometimes I wonder…”
“Wonder about what?”
“Things.”
“Things?” the older man knits his eyebrows in confusion “Care to be more specific?”
“There are just things that we’ve held back from doing all this time and…I wonder if maybe this isn’t the right time for us to allow that into our lives…”
“I don’t understand what you’re-”
“Dating.” Taehyung interrupted, looking straight into his hyung’s eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time for us to experience that?”
Hoseok felt his face heat up slightly. “I- Why do you ask?” he dodged the question.
Taehyung shrugged and looked down and Hoseok felt his heart tighten uncomfortably as he ruminated on the meaning of those actions.
“D-Do you like someone, Tae?” He stuttered, eyes flickering from Taehyung’s mouth to his eyes as he waited anxiously for an answer.
“Would it be bad if I did?”
“Well, do you?” Hoseok asked again impatiently.
Taehyung looked away, clearly refusing to satisfy his hyung’s curiosity. And maybe it was the lightening in the room but Hoseok could swear he saw a faint blush painting the other’s cheeks.
Taehyung shrugged again. “I don’t think it’d be such a huge deal if I did…”
Hoseok blinked at the youngest, his stomach turning for unknown reasons, something an awful lot like possessiveness and jealousy bubbling inside him…
He shook it off as his face became shaded with uncharacteristic seriousness. His lips curved downwards as he straightened up in his chair, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung who took a brief glance at him before looking down again.
“There’s a reason why we have kept ourselves from such things and you know that. You know as well as I do what kind of consequences that could bring for the group.” Hoseok said with a judgmental tone of voice. “Even if it’s something you want, you have to remember your responsibilities towards us.”
Taehyung sighed. His hyung was missing the point.
He was getting angry too, looking at the way he was crossing his arms over his chest as he continued his subtle criticism.
“It’s not the time for you to be selfish. I’m sure you’re not the only one who wants to date, you have to hold yourself back…we have enough on our plates as it is.”
Taehyung sighed one last time. This conversation was going worse than he thought it would.
Getting up on his feet, Taehyung apologized to Hoseok for worrying him and tried to appease him by telling him he was just curious about his opinion and that he meant nothing by that question. | 410b69344e484188b6ae084ec11ede0b | ['2336b5bd8be848a78ac0217f39f40f57'] | When they stepped foot outside, the sky that extended like a veil above their heads was painted in orange and yellow reminding them of a burning flame. The streets of Seoul were getting quieter as people returned to their homes for the usual early dinner but Jungkook and Jimin were bursting with life as they walked away from the building sharing laughs and little jokes amongst themselves.
“That was so much fun!” Jimin exclaimed, still beaming.
Jungkook’s lips curved up at the sight. “We should do it again someday…” He proposed as he put on his jacket.
Jimin’s steps faltered. He had expected this since they had had so much fun, but hearing the suggestion come out of Jungkook’s mouth so promptly brought a different sweetness to the matter and his brain was filling with rainbows at a scary speed.
He pinched his forearm discreetly to make sure he wouldn’t drift away in thoughts and fantasies. Jungkook made himself the perfect vehicle for that at times.
A rush of wind went past the two, startling Jimin from the cold. He felt shivers rush down his spine as his temperature decreased and berated his stubbornness from earlier when he had refused to listen to Jungkook’s warning that it’d be colder later in the day.
At the time, the young man had suggested they stop by Jimin’s house to grab a jacket but Jimin had refused, not knowing how cold the evenings of Seoul were since he didn’t go out much after college.
The second time the wind blew against them, Jimin couldn’t pretend not to feel how his exposed skin felt as if it had been prickled all over. On instinct, he wrapped his arms around himself, but it was an action obvious enough for the other male to notice.
Jungkook commented nothing as he slid his jacket off his toned arms again. The poor guy hadn’t even had the time to zip it up properly when he noticed how his friend tried to shield himself from the cold air.
He stepped in front of Jimin, holding his jacket out in front of him so that all Jimin had to do was turn around and slide his arms into the sleeves. Jimin almost refused but a look from Jungkook told him it’d be a fruitless effort. He sighed and turned, getting goosebumps on his arms when Jungkook’s warm skin grazed his colder one. He figured he’d better get used to this sensation. It seemed like it would keep happening whenever he had skin contact with Jungkook.
He twirled around once he had the jacket on. It looked slightly big on him but it was warm. It hadn’t been in Jungkook’s body that long, but it had collected his warmth and now that warmth enveloped Jimin like a blanket.
Spring felt just a tiny bit closer because of it. He was experiencing such a beautiful day with such a beautiful person.
He knew his eyes had to be full of fondness as he looked up at the silent man but he didn’t try to hide it as he watched Jungkook fix the collar of the jacket, uniting both ends loosely to cover Jimin’s neck some more.
Jimin’s gaze must’ve been intense enough that it pulled Jungkook’s attention in a matter of seconds and as soon as it did, it became obvious that this _would not_ become just an attempt at friendship. The look in their eyes coupled with the tension in the air said so and not even Jimin’s inexperience could keep him from noticing it.
Jimin didn’t need to try to hold Jungkook’s gaze, he _felt compelled to_. Jungkook didn’t fear the intent in Jimin’s eyes, he _matched it_.
It was all there, written between the lines and the world turned a little slower in their favor, giving them time to get just a little lost in each other.
Jungkook didn’t move his hands away abruptly. Hekept them on the jacket’s collar, distractingly close to Jimin’s neck and held each zipper loosely between his thumbs and index fingers as he traced them down, from the collar to Jimin’s heaving chest, following it down his tensed abdominals and stopping just short of his navel. From there, his hands naturally retracted back to his own body and Jimin let out the small breath he’d been holding for a while.
“Warm?” Jungkook asked him softly, gaze softening like a river at its smoothest. Jimin nodded wordlessly, incapable of jumping straight to casual conversation, after being immersed in such an overwhelming atmosphere.
“It’s a little big on you but…you look good.” Jungkook continued, his compliment flowing with attached carefulness, as though he was now holding onto something fragile and precious.
Jimin wished he wasn’t just seeing things as he faced the pretty man with a sparkle in his eyes.
Too much had changed in too little time. It made it harder to believe.
Less than 24h ago, Jungkook had never even spared a glance his way and now Jimin got the sense that he had been all the taller man had seen in years.
“You haven’t said anything yet...” Jungkook broke through his daze, “Do you wanna do this again someday?”
“Of course,” Jimin replied, allowing his gaze to wander Jungkook’s face. “Whenever you want.”
Jungkook exhaled with a small content laugh and Jimin had to bite his lip to keep his smile from stretching too wide, both oblivious to how the street lights flickered on as they did so.
“Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have to. I c-”
“I want to.”
Jimin bit his lip again, reluctant to accept the offer out of politeness but Jungkook didn’t let up.
“Please?” he pleaded to him with puppy eyes.
The look on his face coaxed a giggle and an agreeing nod out of Jimin, much to the taller man’s satisfaction who motioned for him to walk ahead, letting him take the lead before he tailed after him. |
fc575112557f434a8be4199e94d9fa9c | ['2338e88eb28f43f6aa0d74274b226412'] | “Aw, damn, bro,” Marchy said and then shoved at everyone else until all of the Aces spilled out of the booth and began hugging Jeff one by one. It was another 30 minutes before they actually got out the door and even then, they had to carefully peel back one of the rookies who almost weaseled himself into a ride with Kent. Scraps had looked like he knew exactly what they were up to when he’d hugged Jeff goodbye, but hadn’t said anything beyond his normal gruff goodbye and Jeff had to remind himself that there was no way that Scraps knew anything beyond that maybe Kent and he wanted a few minutes to themselves to talk things out anyways.
“Jesus, they’re a bunch of hanger-ons,” Kent grumbled as the bar door shut behind them.
“Like you aren’t normally forcing them into stuff like this,” Jeff said, just barely managing not to roll his eyes at Kent.
“I didn’t invite them tonight,” Kent grumbled.
Jeff smiled and looked away as they walked to the valet stand. Kent had driven tonight for what seemed to be the sole purpose of ferrying Jeff to and from dinner despite Jeff’s assurances that even if he wasn’t yet cleared to drive himself, he could definitely order an Uber. The attendant looked like Christmas came early when he pulled the car up to the curb for Kent. Jeff could hardly blame him even though he would have appreciated something a little higher off the ground since climbing down into the low-slung roadster was hell with just one leg fully functional.
They rode in relative silence together, interrupted only occasionally by Kent’s phone buzzing with notifications until he slid into the driveway at Jeff’s condo almost 30 minutes later. Neither of them got out of the car even as Kent killed the engine.
“Doing okay, Parser?” Jeff asked finally.
Kent looked remarkably like a deer caught in headlights in that minute, cornered and afraid of whatever it was that was bearing down on him. Jeff wanted to reach out and touch him, but kept his hands to himself and looked away, watching Kent’s reflection in the window instead of the real Kent.
“I don’t know how to do any of this right,” Kent said quietly. “I’m going to fuck it up. I’ve already fucked it up.”
Jeff wasn’t sure exactly what Kent wanted him to say to that, so he kept silent and continued watching the mirror Kent in the window who was gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, not looking at Jeff at all.
Finally, when it didn’t seem like Kent was going to be able to say anything further, he continued.
“I’m sorry about how I reacted,” Kent said and Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but Kent beat him to it. “It’s not how I wanted that to go. If I could do it again…fuck, I don’t know. I just want you to know that I am sorry, okay?”
“Kent,” Jeff said softly, turning to look at him, real and solid beside him. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”
Kent’s jaw flexed and he shrugged jerkily.
“Not the way I wanted to,” Kent said.
“Okay,” Jeff agreed although normally he would have had a lot to say about that. Right now, he didn’t feel much like arguing the point though. “Anything else?”
“I want…” Kent said and then stopped, clearly frustrated. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel and got out of the car. Jeff took a moment before getting out himself, far less graceful as he maneuvered his body out of the low-slung car and onto his crutches. Kent was braced against the hood of his car with his arms flung wide and he was looking Jeff with that same wounded animal in a corner look again. Jeff stuffed his good hand in his pocket and waited, and when Kent seemed unable or unwilling to express himself, Jeff tried for an olive branch.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked.
Kent flinched and Jeff tried very hard not to take it personally. Before he could backtrack, though, Kent recovered.
“Your sister won’t mind?” Kent asked.
“Nah,” Jeff said. “She’s already in bed and dead to the world anyways, guaranteed. She passes out at like nine every night.”
Kent snorted in laughter, but followed Jeff inside. Jeff almost steered them into the living room as usual, but then, remembering the last time he’d brought Kent there and how disastrously it had gone, thought better of it and headed for the kitchen instead. Jenn was nowhere to be found, just as Jeff had predicted. She really was a total lightweight when it came to bedtime these days. She couldn’t even stay up for games most of the time.
“I’m sorry the guys crashed dinner tonight,” Jeff said as he quietly handed Kent a bottle of water without asking. Kent cracked it open immediately. “I didn’t really know how to say no to them when Marchy asked.”
“S’fine,” Kent said. “Sorry for being a jerk about it.”
Jeff smiled at him and then, embarrassed for some reason, down at the floor. He heard Kent set his water bottle down and shuffle closer and when he looked up, Kent was in front of him, studying him carefully. Jeff’s heart kicked into overdrive as he let Kent look his fill uninterrupted. When Kent’s hand came up cup Jeff’s neck, Jeff thought he might be having an actual cardiac episode by the way his heart was drumming. Kent’s fingers brushing against his pulse point surely felt it too, but Kent just stepped closer. Jeff licked his lips and watched him in total silence.
“Tell me not to,” Kent whispered, his lips brushing against Jeff’s as he said it, impossibly close but not quite there. Jeff reached up to gently brush a curl away from Kent’s eyes and let his hand linger there, not breaking eye contact with Kent the whole time. | 2045c191ac6941fda4c140c733589169 | ['2338e88eb28f43f6aa0d74274b226412'] | “Let’s go home,” Blue said and the boys all nodded. Adam felt a pang at the word _home_ and without meaning to, he thought of the Barns, empty and quiet without the Lynch brothers. He wondered if Ronan had brought Orphan Girl to D.C. or dropped her off at the Barns before making the rest of the drive. He wondered where Ronan was right at that moment. Had he made it to D.C. yet? Surely, he had. It had been almost two hours since he had peeled out of the parking lot of the hospital.
Cheng offered to drive Adam back to St. Agnes on his way back to Litchfield House. Adam accepted more graciously than he might have under normal circumstances. He was just so tired. He couldn’t think of anything better than his own bed.
When he arrived back at St. Agnes, however, his room was wrong. He laid on the bed and closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. He couldn’t think of anything but Ronan. He should have insisted that Ronan couldn’t go alone. What if he had wrapped his stupid BMW around a tree? What if he got to D.C. to find Matthew dead? What if…?
Adam threw the blankets off of himself and groped for his keys on the floor where they had landed next to his jeans. His fingers wrapped around them and his decision was made. He made his way quietly down the stairs, the wood creaking underneath him in a way that made him feel as though someone was watching him. He didn’t think he would ever shake the feeling that Robert Parrish might come out of the shadows if he were to find him out of bed at such an hour.
The Hondayota started with minimal protest. Adam said a little prayer of thanks every time the engine roared to life, but that morning, he punctuated it with an extra _thank you_. He wasn’t sure who he was praying to. Henrietta was slowly waking up for the day as Adam drove through town and in a distant way, he remembered that it was Tuesday and a school day. He drove past Aglionby without guilt. It took him almost forty minutes to get to the Barns and he wasn’t sure where he found the energy. He wasn’t even sure if the doors would be unlocked when he got there.
When he took the last curve of the long driveway of the Barns, it was with both relief and disappointment that he noted it was empty and the farmhouse was dark. Ronan had not made it back yet. It was expected, but still ached strangely as it settled in Adam’s mind. He made his way up to the door, trying the knob experimentally, half-surprised to find it unlocked.
“Hello?” Adam asked. The Orphan Girl was not home either. Adam kicked off his shoes at the door. He could desperately use a shower and a change of clothes, but had thought of neither back at St. Agnes and was too tired to explore the Barns for possibilities. He trudged his way up the stairs, starting for Declan’s room, but then changing his mind and opening the door to Ronan’s instead. The sheets were tangled as though Ronan had only just left after a fitful night of sleeping. Adam collapsed onto the small bed, shutting his eyes almost instantly. The powerful smell of Ronan was all around him – it smelled of gasoline and woods and something else entirely – and he felt sleep wrap its arms around him. He didn’t resist.
It was dark when he woke. At first, he wasn’t sure why he had woken at all. The room was too quiet around him until he realized that his good ear was buried in the pillow. When he opened his eyes, Ronan Lynch was staring at him from across the room.
Ronan was sitting on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him. He still looked like hell, but there was less blood. Adam realized that Ronan must have changed his shirt at some point in the night. Chainsaw cawed softly from Ronan’s shoulder upon seeing Adam open his eyes and flew to him. Adam sat up in bed and rubbed her head with a finger.
“Well?” Adam asked. His voice was still thick with sleep. He felt as though he could sleep another 10 hours and still be tired.
“Matthew will be fine,” Ronan answered. Adam wasn’t sure if that had been what he was really asking, but he also didn’t know that it wasn’t. He fell back against the flattened pillows. His eyes threatened to fall shut again.
“And you?” The words were a struggle to form against the sleep that threatened to wash over him again.
Ronan didn’t answer, but a moment later, Adam felt the bed sink a little lower. He pushed himself over to make room for Ronan, although the other boy did not immediately take the space. Adam’s hands twitched with the longing to touch him again.
Instead, he said, “Ronan.” It was both a question and an invitation.
Ronan sighed a long, ragged breath and his head sank into his arms. Adam sat up behind him and reached out to him. His fingers had barely brushed Ronan’s shoulder when the other boy grabbed his hand and held it. His touch was a lifeline for Adam. Adam let his fingers curl around Ronan’s and pulled the boy closer by tugging back. Ronan fell easily back against Adam’s chest and Adam saw then that he had been crying. |
4e755c6f4fa84a86926bbedeed3d6d58 | ['23588eb7525a41e08bb2775a0d27d50d'] | "Nice one, loser." The familiar sound of condemnation and misery spoke up behind him in a mocking voice and before Danny could even turn to address him, there was a thump at the back of his chair that jerked him forward. He slammed his elbows down against the desk to catch himself and prevent him from smacking his face against it.
The commotion caused the teacher to lift his eyes from the book once again. They bore down on Danny like a lion about to make it's slaughter. He certainly didn't like to be interrupted twice in the space of five minutes. "Mr. Fenton, Mr. Baxter. Is there a problem you would like to share with the rest of us, since you insist on interrupting me?"
"Oh no Mr. Lancer." Dash sat up straight in his chair and offered the man an apologetic smile. His persona suddenly change, to a charming young man that could fool many of the adults into believing he was as good as gold; that he would never hurt a fly. "I was simply explaining to Danny what he missed while he was sleeping so that he was up to date and understood what you are explaining, sir."
"Of course..." Lancer responded, his tone full of sarcasm and bitterness. Dash Baxter may have pulled the wool over the eyes of the junior teachers, but he was more than aware of his bullying tendencies. Unfortunately, due to Dash being so sneaky about his methods it was almost impossible to catch him in the act and respectfully punish him. Yet he knew from Danny's expression that something had happened. "Well Mr. Baxter, it is my job as a teacher to educate Daniel. So I will have to ask you to keep to yourself and refrain from anymore tutoring, so that I may continue my lesson."
"Yes sir. Of course." Dash said in response, folding his hands over one another as a way of showing respect. Lancer nodded and gave both boys a weary glance, almost as a warning not to do it again. He went back to the novel and it wasn't until Dash was sure the teacher was back in his zone that he narrowed his eyes and gave the raven haired teen a venom-filed glare. "I'll get you later, Fen-tosser. When the teachers can't protect you."
"Cut it out Dash." Sam glared at him, having had just about enough of his performance. "Leave Danny alone and stop being such a jerk."
"Shut up, you emo freak." Dash simply snarled back in retaliation. Sam just rolled her eyes at his pathetic insult and rubbed Danny's arm reassuringly. He looked at her from under his curtain of hair with a pitiful expression and offered her a small smile. She returned it but she knew it was fake. Something was bothering him.
The class came to an end with the ring of the bell. It echoed through the students' ears and brought them back to reality. They stood up, eager to stretch their aching limbs and get moving towards the cafeteria before all the good grub was gone. Sam and Tucker loitered behind the mass that was exiting through the door, casting concerned glances back at Danny. He arose from his seat awkwardly and pulled his backpack over his shoulder. Upon noticing their concerned stares, he just offered them a wave of reassurance and with that they were gone, leaving him alone with the disappointed teacher.
Lancer walked around his desk and lowered himself into the dated tan chair, leaning back. He pulled open his left side drawer and pulled out a thick, bounded folder and placed it on the desk in front of him before closing the drawer again. As the teen came to a stop at the front of the desk, Lancer flipped open the folder and updated himself with the most accurate information. It also gave him a moment to consider how to start this conversation.
After a moment of composing and planning his thoughts, he began to speak. His tone was softer than it had been in front of class; a compassionate tone. "Danny, this is becoming a regular occurrence not only in my class but with your other subject teachers as well. Usually we will tolerate the odd accident such as this, with you all being teenagers and needing the extra sleep. However, I am concerned. The frequency of your "accidents" suggest to me that there may be something more malicious going on underneath the surface, something I think you may be afraid to tell us."
Danny blinked for a moment. He was predicting that Lancer would have just gave him detention; the usual punishment. He had in no way expected this. His shock was evident and he paused before responding. "No Sir. I've just had problems sleeping recently."
"Uh huh." Lancer stared at him with such intensity that it made Danny squirm. He sat up in his chair and crossed his arms, intwining his fingers. "You see, we as your teachers are concerned about your welfare, although you may not believe that."
"Yes Mr. Lancer. I understand. I'm fine really, I just haven't gotten a good night sleep for a couple of weeks now..." The teen trailed off, having never felt so uncomfortable. He could only think of how similar this was to being strapped down on a lab table and interrogated. He felt trapped.
Lancer just sighed and rubbed his temple with frustration. This was never easy. Obviously, he would have to give up his authority. He couldn't be the strict and affirming teacher all the time. He would have to take a more reasonable approach to connect with the boy.
"Daniel, please." He addressed the child. "I've taught you for many years now. I am an English teacher. I break down characters and study every inch of their presentation and personalities every single day. Years of experience have taught me not to take things for face value. I also know that you are lying to me, Danny. I'm not mad, I just want to know why you feel like you can't talk to me. I realise that you all see me as the boring, lame English teacher. Despite what you think of me, I don't want any of my students to be in danger or to come to any harm."
By now, Danny's hands were starting to sweat and his normally cool demeanor was starting to crack. His heart beat a little faster in his chest and his eyes darted in any direction other than Lancer as he thought of what to say. Panic was starting to settle in and this bothered Danny. He could fly, fight ghosts and save the world but this one bald, average English teacher with a horrendous dress sense was capable of getting under his skin. It was unsettling.
"Mr. Lancer." Danny started, his voice threatening to crack again. The teen brought his hand to his mouth and coughed to try and clear his raspy throat. It burned, feeling similar to a desert. His body lurched forward as he coughed, causing him to hunch and reveal that he was much more frail than Lancer had first thought.
"Daniel." Lancer pressed his two index fingers together and brought them to his lip in thought. He tapped it repetitively; his foot mirroring his actions as he thought of what to say. "You are clearly malnourished and ill. Your grades are failing, your attendance is poor. I'm going to be straight with you. I don't want you to be worried or frightened to tell me Danny. Are you being abused at home?" He pressed the question, leaning forward to focus on the boy's reaction.
Danny opened his mouth to answer but instead of words, a ice blue wisp escaped his lips and his eyes widened. A chill went down his spine and he involuntarily shivered, crossing his arms. He lowered his head and thought about what to do. Why here? Why now?
Lancer stared at the boy with an eyebrow raised and stood up. He walked around his desk, coming to a stop beside the boy. Despite looming over him, he placed his hand on his shoulder reassuringly and leaned over to comfort the boy. His voice held nothing but genuine concern. "Danny, are you okay?"
He didn't get a response. Suddenly, a tremor rumbled underneath their feet and shook the building violently, causing Lancer to fall back. He caught himself on his desk just before he fell to the ground and exclaimed in shock. "Great Gatsby! What on earth was that?!"
Danny wobbled, but managed to maintain his balance. He ignored the teacher's question and without hesitation, rushed over to the window. Lancer blinked at his actions and proceeded after the youngster. He followed his line of vision but when he glanced out his eyes widened in horror and his body froze with fear.
That was when the emergency alarms began to blaze. | 88e88267ec1b40fbb10d9cd799c84a49 | ['23588eb7525a41e08bb2775a0d27d50d'] | Of course the journey to St Barts Hospital was tediously long, but it gave him the chance to test his mind; organise his thoughts and above all, avoid having to talk to anyone. He was still fuming from his conversation with his beloved big brother, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head. He subconsciously frowned, knitting his brows together as he focused on the meaning behind his words.
"friends protect people."
He huffed to himself, gaining some per-cautious looks from those near him which he immediately dismissed with a frightening glare. He had often questioned his elder brother; wondering what tasks he had to do as a member of the british government that had seemed to have compromised the sanity of his mind. That would make him think that even being in the open with his condition was a possibility.
Yes, he had worked on numerous cases throughout the past few years, gradually taking on more when he felt comfortable enough to handle it. Most of them could be done within the safety of his own abode, meaning that he could avoid the daunting aspect of interaction unless absolutely necessary. He found solving cases invigorating; stimulating his mind and most importantly distracting him from that ever present monster that fights to escape and swallow his humanity whole.
The odd time he does appear in person to assist with a case he is greeted with a string of insults: Freak, sicko, psychopath. Of course, he had to correct their mistake that he was in fact a high functioning sociopath, which only earned him more hatred and glares. The whispering when his back was turned was something that often struck a cord with his nerves. He cursed it. Cursed the fact that this stupid condition even allowed him to pick up on it, to allow vicious taunts and remarks to knock his already fragile confidence. His pride was the only thing that held him together. He would turn their way and offer them a slightly smug smile, letting them know he knew exactly how they felt and more importantly, that he didn't care.
He wasn't sure how long exactly he had been beating a corpse within an inch of his afterlife before the soft spoken voice of Molly Hooper drew him back into reality, but he was grateful. The morning had been a bit more eventful than he had wished. He had run into an acquaintance, Mike Stamford, on his way to the hospital for which he internally groaned, but did his best to struggle through with common chit chat conversation. Luckily, he could tell the larger man was in a hurry; the dark bags under his eyes and the lethargic movements indicating that he was desperately in need of an early morning caffeine fix, so the catch up was a short one.
The whole incident with the press conference was just a bit of amusement on his part. The police were just so typical, burying their heads in the sand and taking the easiest explanation without question. They were blind to the integrate planning and ignorant of the connections that were clear as day for those with observant minds. In Sherlock's opinion, a bit of humiliation would make them step up their game. Right?
"Bad day, was it?" Molly asks, trying to engage him in conversation.
"I need to know how many bruises develop in the next twenty minutes, a man's alibi depends on it. Text me." He responded, not addressing her question. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good day. He took a small notebook out of his coat and jotted down a few notes, avoiding eye contact.
He could feel the tension as Molly debated over her words. "Listen. I was wondering, maybe later, when you're finished-."
Sherlock looked up through his curls, noting the visible difference of her appearance compared to his entrance into Barts. Her appearance was tidied up: hair brushed, coat straightened and make up re-touched.
"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before…" He trailed off.
Molly tensed, suddenly feeling very self conscious about herself. "I uh…I refreshed it a bit."
Sherlock paused, taking in the real meaning of her words before he came to the realisation that he had cut her off. He looked back at his notebook and urged her to continue.
"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee…?" It was clear, precise. Practiced. Molly held her breath, frightened and instantly regretting her decision.
Sherlock didn't hesitate in response. This was verging into dangerous territory. "Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs." He nodded his head along as he spoke the last words and abruptly existed the morgue, putting as much space between himself and Molly as possible.
He could hear her high pitched, shaken "okay" as he exited the room and sighed, pausing mid step for a moment. His hand rested on the wall of the staircase as he contemplated going back and apologising. He shook his head, mumbling to himself as he stared holes in the ground before him. "Alone protects me…"
He was in the depths of an experiment when the two knocks on the door broke his concentration. He looked up to see Mike enter the room, followed by an unidentified man that was currently using a crutch as support for an unseen wound. He held his stare for a moment later before returning to his experiment, ignoring the new presence in the room.
"Well, bit different from my day." Reflective comment. Interesting. He could only briefly hear Mike respond before he made his request.
"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." He asked, not taking his eyes from the microscope. Mike paused, seemingly hesitant. "What's wrong with the landline?"
"Oh, I prefer to text." He responded. He could feel the intense stare of the third man on him but chose to ignore it. |
ba61c65cd9f746bda0f86f5a2bbb517c | ['237074209983421983774bc7c0c9530e'] | Dean reluctantly removed his mouth from Cas' chest to let the doctor pull the detective's shirt over his head. Dean pushed Cas' trench coat and shirt off the doctor's shoulders simultaneously, then bringing their mouths together in a filthy kiss, moaning as their naked chests connected, bare skin on bare skin.
"Still think I'm scared of my sexuality?" Dean gasped.
"Shut up," Cas growled as he brought their lips together again, pawing at Dean's jean zipper.
Dean smirked into the kiss, grabbing Cas' ass and pulling their groins together, trapping Cas' hand inbetween them and grinding up, creating friction that had the doctor gasping into Dean's mouth.
Almost in retaliation Cas cupped Dean's arousal through his jeans, pressing his palm down and smiling when Dean gasped and bucked his hips up into Cas' hand. Dean, having decides this foreplay had gone on long enough, deftly undid the button and zipper on Cas' smart, black pants and pushed the doctor's pants and boxers over his ass simultaneously, revealing Cas' throbbing cock.
Dean trailed his fingers along the shaft of Cas' cock lightly, accompanying the movement with a bite onto the doctor's collarbone, leaving a mark the detective knew would be there for several days.
"Stop teasing me," Cas moaned, bucking up desperately into Dean's hand.
Dean let go of Cas' arousal for a minute to quickly undo his own jeans, hurriedly pulling his cock out and bringing it together with Cas', the pair letting out matching moans at the feel of the other's hard flesh against their own.
"Fuck Cas," Dean choked out, "Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are? How close I was to fucking you in the corridor of that church?"
Cas' answering moan spurred Dean on and the detective roughly stroked their cocks together, creating delicious friction. The doctor captured Dean's lips in a rough kiss and he ground into Dean's hand, movements becoming more frantic.
Dean and Cas climbed quickly to their climaxes together, their movements quickly becoming erratic and Cas' office filling with their barely muffled moans. A couple more rough strokes and Dean was biting into Cas' shoulder to muffle his scream as the detective came violently, white flashing across his vision. The feeling of Dean's cock twitching next to Cas' pulled the doctor of the edge too, and he came half a minute later with a cry Dean's name.
Cas collapsed onto Dean's chest, exhausted and Dean brought an arm up to curl around the doctor. The pair lay in comfortable silence for a couple minutes while their breathing slowed.
"Oh," Dean said suddenly remembering Charlie's request, "Charlie wants you to come with me to drinks later so she can hook us up."
Cas snorted and chuckled into Dean's chest, "Well I suppose I can try pretend to be attracted to you."
Dean smacked Cas in playful indignation, "Excuse me?!"
Cas laughed and the pair shared a look that made Dean's insides twitch hopefully.
"How about I buy you dinner before we meet them for drinks?" Dean asked softly, brushing Cas' hair out of the doctor's eyes.
Cas smiled shyly, "I would like that very much."
Dean's answering grin was dazzling.
The end. | 973a6e86dfb74050800c7c116883920c | ['237074209983421983774bc7c0c9530e'] | Cas' warm, chapped lips cut off Dean, kissing him bruisingly, intense and hard. It was over as quickly as it happened, leaving Dean blinking in surprise.
"Actually Dean," Cas growled into the hunter's ear, pressing the length of his body against Dean's (where the hunter could clearly feel the angel's erection pressing insistently against Dean's rapidly forming one), "I know exactly what I'm offering you."
And then Castiel was yanking on Dean's short hair, pulling him into another bruising kiss. Dean sprang to life, groaning obscenely into the angel's mouth, hands gripping Cas' hips hard and pressing him further into the alleyway wall. The hunter nipped at Cas' lower lip, and the angel opened up for him moaning. Dean slipped his tongue into the hot, slick cavern of Cas' mouth, tasting mint and whiskey and something distinctly Castiel and oh god, it was better then any of Dean's fantasies. Cas wasn't the most experienced kisser (obviously) but he made up with his enthusiasm, openly moaning and groaning, completely uncensored and jesus, Dean loved it.
"Want you so bad Dean," Cas groaned as Dean attacked the angel's neck, sucking and nipping at every open spot.
Dean paused, "How do you know?" The hunter mumbled against the angel's neck.
Cas chuckled, "I know how to open a computer, when my body started to react to you like this," Cas paused to thrust his hips against Dean's, causing both of them to groan, "I googled it." Cas chuckled again, "You think I react like that when anyone touches my wings? If our wings were that sensitive every time we cleaned them angels would spend a hell of a lot more time fucking and less time fucking the world up."
Dean chuckled and bit down on a spot just above Cas' collarbone, causing the angel to arch deliciously into Dean.
"Enough talking," Cas moaned, "I need you to fuck me Dean."
Dean groaned, after all he was only human, and there was no way he could refuse a request like that.
Dean lifted Cas up, sliding the angel up the alleyway wall and wrapped his legs around the hunter's waist. Cas - getting the idea - tightened his thighs around Dean, bringing their cocks together in a delicious friction. Dean pawed at Cas' clothes, pushing the tan trenchcoat off the angel's shoulders, yanking the tie off and ripping his way through the white shirt. It wasn't perfect, In fact Dean couldn't even get the clothes off properly because the angel's back was against the wall, but Dean had wanted this for so long, was so hard, that he didn't care. The hunter attacked the hard planes of Cas' chest, licking and biting, tongue swirling around the angel's nipple, loving every obscene noise he was able to pull from Cas' mouth.
"Dean!" Cas gasped, "Fuck, Dean, hurry, want you!"
"It's so fucking hot when you use filthy language," Dean growled, "Wanted you for so long Cas."
The angel groaned and tugged at Dean's jacket, using his grace to rid the hunter of both his shirt and jacket. Dean meanwhile was working on Cas' pant zipper, managing to pull his pants halfway down his thighs for he realised that fucking hell, the angel wasn't wearing any fucking underwear. Dean whimpered as be brought his hand to Castiel's thick cock, loving the way it felt under his hand, all velvety and smooth. Dean jacked Cas off roughly, loving the high pitched moans he was getting from the angel.
"Fuck Cas," Dean whimpered, "You're so god damn gorgeous, please tell me I'm your first."
Cas nodded, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack with pleasure as Dean collected some precome from the tip of the angel's cock, using it to slick up the process. Seeing Cas like this was a fantasy come true, and Dean couldn't tear his eyes off his own hand.
"Dean," Cas whimpered, "Wait."
Dean increased the speed, loving how flushed and red the tip of Castiel's cock was against the skin of the hunter's hand.
"Dean!" Cas cried out, "Please stop!"
Dean jerked away from Cas so fast that the angel slid to the ground.
Seeing Dean's horrified expression, Cas quickly rushed to appease him, "I don't want to stop, but if you keep that up, I won't last," Cas explained, "Plus," the angel added with a devilish smirk, "There's something I want to try."
And before Dean could process what was happening, the angel stood up, grabbed Dean by the shoulders, turned him so the hunter's back was against the wall, and dropped to his knees. Dean moaned embarrassingly loudly when he realised Cas' intentions, and sure enough once the angel had gotten Dean's pants and boxers down low enough the angel leaned forward and placed his tongue hesitantly on the underside of Dean's length.
"Fuck Cas," Dean groaned, hands shooting automatically to grip Cas' hair tightly.
Cas gave a grunt of approval and then slowly took Dean's cock into his mouth. Dean couldn't help but buck his hips with a cry as Cas' lips reached the base of Dean's length.
"Fuck Cas," Dean repeated, "Where's your fucking gag reflex?"
Cas released him with an obscene popping noise so he could reply snarkily, "It disappeared the first time I imagined doing this to you."
Not waiting for Dean's reply (which was a strangled moan) Cas took Dean's length in again, bobbing up and down and suctioning hard around the head. It was sloppy, and not the most skilled blowjob, but it was the hottest thing Dean had ever experienced. Cas' tongue flitted into Dean's slit and Dean cried out, hips bucking upwards with abandon. Then Dean made the mistake of looking down at Cas, who looked up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes (that still managed to sparkle with innocence) and deliberately hollowed out his cheeks, taking Dean in balls deep again and fuck if that image wouldn't stay in Dean's head forever. |
009ca4f9d9104725bb11d86ac43b787b | ['23771ce0b8334efa93f59f32ca3862b7'] | “I love you.” Theon whispers, the declaration left to the silence. Robb continued to sleep, his chest slowly rising and falling as if Theon hadn’t just changed everything, and it would stay that way, Theon thought. He knew, he knew, that Robb returned the sentiment, that if it were up to him it would just be them for the rest of eternity. But it wasn’t, Theon thought. His love, their love, would only cause them pain in the future, only cause heartbreak. Robb would have to marry and bear heirs and so would Theon. One day, he would return to the Iron Islands and take his place as Lord Greyjoy, or if his father agreed to the alliance, the King. Robb would have to stay in Winterfell, with his wife and children, Theon being a distant memory, and Robb one to him.
_**This is way too hard** _
_**'Cause I know, when the sun comes up** _
_**I will leave, this is my last glance** _
_**That will soon be memory** _
Theon leaves before Robb can say goodbye. It’s easier that way, if he just disappears to the Iron Islands, giving Robb the gift of the Iron Fleet, and the gift of freedom from him. Because the more Theon thought about it, the more he knew that he needed to end things with Robb, for Robb. Robb would never understand, he’d insist that they could find a way around things, that they could overcome the obstacles of life together. But Theon knew the truth, that the sooner it ended, the less it would hurt. So, as he leaves, he takes one glance backwards, allowing himself to feel grief for all that was, and for all that might’ve been. He feels as if his heart is shattering, the jagged pieces lodging themselves in his lungs. In the end, leaving will do both of them good. Robb can win the war without making poor decisions based on their relationship, and Theon could stay in the islands and claim his birthright. This would be best, he thought, desperately trying to convince himself that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life. But if he was right, why did it hurt so much?
_**And when the daylight comes** _
_**I'll have to go** _
_**But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close** _
_**'Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own** _
_**But tonight I need to hold you so close** _
“Theon?” Robb, said groggily, waking from slumber to an empty bed, the area belonging to Theon cold. He must have left already, Robb thought, feeling more than a little hurt that Theon hadn’t bothered to say farewell. It would be fine though, he assured himself, Theon would convince Balon Greyjoy to ally with them and then he would return to him, return to Robb, where he belonged. His Mother had advised him to not let Theon go but she didn’t know the extent of their relationship. He would return, he would always return for him, as he would for Theon. Because despite everything, he and Theon transcended the chaos of the surrounding world. No matter what, they would always be by each other’s sides. | 43103a80bdf641aba0740ab06799fae8 | ['23771ce0b8334efa93f59f32ca3862b7'] |
Not Even The Gods Above Can Separate The Two Of Us
Golden hair sped towards Bellamy, throwing itself into his arms.
“You’re ok,” She breathed against his skin. “You’re ok.” This time to reassure herself. Bellamy melted into her arms, a weight lifted from his chest, allowing him to breathe for the first time since the search began. Bellamy held her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, inhaling her scent. She drew back, a tender smile appearing as she searched Bellamy’s eyes.
“Clarke!” Her mother called from across the camp. “I need your help over here!” The smile disappeared and so did Clarke, leaving to meet Abby. Bellamy could feel a shift in the balance of the world. It was weird, he felt with Clarke that when they were together everything was a little brighter, clearer, fit together better.
“Arggh” Bellamy cried out, a burning pain seizing his wrist.
“Bell, what’s wrong?” Octavia asked, moving towards him.”
“Wr-wrist.” He managed to gasp out, his wrist feeling as if someone was holding a match to it. Octavia grabbed his hand, pulling it up so the source of the pain was visible to them both. Right where the pain had stemmed from a blood-red anatomical heart was etched into his skin.
“Oh my god.” Octavia gasped, recognition filling her eyes. “Clarke’s your soulmate?” Bellamy was silent, his mind racing, unable to comprehend the turn of events. “There’s something I never thought I’d see.” Bellamy remained quiet. Soulmates were rare, most people didn’t have them. Well, that’s what they assumed on the Ark when they didn’t know that there was another population of people living on the ground. The thing about soulmates was that you didn’t even know whose yours was until you loved them, that’s when the mark would appear. “You have to tell her.”
“No,” Bellamy replied, Clarke couldn’t know. She already had so much responsibility and Bellamy, he wasn’t going to pressure her into having a relationship with him. That’s how Octavia had been born, his Mum met her soulmate and fell in love with him, but it wasn’t returned. She’d tried to get him to stay, tried to use Octavia as a reason, but love is an individual thing and her expectation that he would return her feelings broke her. So, no, he wasn’t going to tell Clarke. If she asked, he’d tell the truth. If he was hers, then he’d be whatever she wanted him to be, but it was going to be up to her, he wasn’t going to force it. “O, promise me you won’t tell her.”
“Yeah ok, but she deserves to know.”
* * *
Bellamy didn’t want to go to Mount Weather but he was willing to do what was necessary to save their people. Clarke shut it down though, all she had to do was look at him, the pain of losing Finn still fresh in her eyes and say, “I can’t lose you too.” Bellamy had thought that maybe this was the moment, maybe she’d feel a burning on her wrist and she’d look at Bellamy with a new sort of light her eyes instead of the slowly depleting tired embers she’d been sporting lately. But her face had remained the same and Bellamy couldn’t help but wonder. He quickly glanced towards her wrist but all that was visible was smooth, pale skin. Bellamy now sat by the fire with Octavia, Lincoln and Raven, each engaged in individual thought.
“How did you know it was Gustus?” Lincoln asks him, breaking the comfortable silence. Bellamy thought back to the mark he saw on Gustus’s wrist and had put two-and-two together. Not all soulmates were romantic but he knew that Gustus would do for Lexa what he would do for Clarke, anything.
“He’d do anything for her,” he replied, “just makes sense.” Raven suddenly shot up, radio in hand, drawing Clarke over from where she was previously.
“Guys, listen to this.” Bellamy could hear the distress call Jasper sent out from Mount Weather if things were bad enough for them to send out a message they needed to get their people out now.
“We need to do this.” He and Clarke began to discuss the logistics of getting into the Mountain. And then she said it.
“You should go.”
Bellamy felt himself crumble. She wanted him to go. At that moment Bellamy knew that she could never return the way he felt. She was voluntarily risking his life, something he could never do to her. “I thought you hated that plan. That I would get myself killed.”
“I was being weak.” He saw the steel in her eyes and understood, they were no longer Bellamy and Clarke, co-leaders, they were Clarke and Bellamy, a queen and her knight. But Bellamy had promised himself he would be who Clarke needed and if he had to be, he could be the Gustus to her Lexa.
“It’s worth the risk.” The final nail in the coffin of Bellamy’s hope. He was a piece on her chessboard, and he’d do anything to win her the game.
* * *
“I’m not going in.” Bellamy stared into her eyes, recognising her look of hopelessness. He remembered what felt like eons ago, at the bunker where he’d been going to run away. Bellamy echoed what she had said to him then.
“If you need forgiveness. I’ll give that to you.” He could hear the desperation in his voice and didn’t attempt to hide it. She was his other half, she made him whole, made him better, the world better and she was going to leave. “You’re forgiven. Please, come inside.” Not for the first time he felt the words on the tip of his tongue, ‘I love you’ or ‘you’re my soulmate’ and ‘I need you’ but, like always, he swallowed them because that wasn’t what she needed. |
9e629c97bbc54e85bb6f33194b646f84 | ['237e7c2d437149c4b60df248800fe136'] | “Wait!” Tony exclaimed, he reached for Anna but she avoided his grip. “She’s pregnant!” he grumbled in disapproval. “Tony, she is our only link to fix this” Steve said. Tony glared at Steve, “If my baby gets killed its on all of you” he spat. Tony followed Anna outside in a hurried rush. He rushed up next to her as she looked up at the sky, it was turning grey like it was going to storm. Tony looked up at the sky, “What’s going on?” he asked.
“That crystal is going to cause a horrible storm if we let it continue to exist...we need to destroy it” she said. “I guess it's a good thing I brought the Mark V with me” he said. Anna looked at him, “Tony, I don’t want you to get hurt.” “And I don’t want you getting hurt, neither of you. So either I’m coming with you or you’re not going” he said. Anna sighed, “Fine…” she murmured. Tony went to his car and grabbed the suitcase inside, it was the Mark V. He had made it portable so he could transform in civilian areas.
The other Avengers came out as Anna’s body morphed and she changed to dragon form. “Okay...now I believe in dragons…” Clint murmured. Tony’s armor engulfed his body and he looked at Anna. “Lead the way, babe” he said as his mask came down over his face. The dragoness spread her massive wings and she took to the sky. Tony started his thrusters up and he soared after her.
Rocketing towards downtown the clouds grew darker. “We need to destroy that crystal” Anna said. Tony’s armor locked onto the crystal. “Think a couple missiles will do the trick?”
“It's going to take more than that!” She called.
The dragoness opened her mouth and a cyan light started to charge in the back of her throat before she spat a ball of light at the crystal and it struck it, shattering a piece. It hissed violently as Tony let his missiles fire. The crystal cracked slightly and hissed in anger. “Hit it again!” Anna roared. The other Avengers came rushing onto the scene. Hawkeye sent a explosive arrow flying at the crystal, it barely did any damage. The Hulk roared, picking up a car and throwing it at the crystal. As the car struck the crystal it split down the middle and hissed, leaking black, electricity coursed through the ground. “Get back!” Black Widow yelled.
The dragoness watched the chaos unfold below, civilians running for cover. The dragoness growled lowly and looked at Tony who hovered in place, “Get clear!” she spat and she gained altitude. “Anna!” Tony yelled watching the white and cyan dragoness climb higher into the sky. “Get back!” Tony yelled to the other avengers. The dragoness looked down at the crystal before she opened her maw and something started to charge in the back of her throat. Tony squinted to see this, it was like a massive holy ball of light. “Take cover!” he yelled. The dragoness very suddenly spat the ball at the crystal and it rocketed towards the massive black crystal. Upon contact it caused the crystal to erupt into small fragments that rained down like snow.
Tony landed and his face mask went up and he watched the black crystal pieces fall to the ground. The massive dragoness came back down to the ground and she approached the Avengers. “Well that was better than fireworks” Hawkeye said. Anna smiled as Tony came up to her and he petted her nose with a hand. “What was that?” Cap asked. “A crystal tainted with black magic. If it had continued to exist, it would have corrupted your weather patterns and caused storms to ravage your planet. It could have also summoned dark creatures” Anna explained. “Dark creatures, like demons?” Widow asked. The dragoness simply nodded in response. “Well...that would have been fun. Like an episode of Supernatural...except...minus the Winchesters” Widow laughed.
Anna looked at where the massive crystal had been. “What’s wrong?” Tony inquired. “There have to be more...when there’s one...there’s usually more…” she murmured. “How many more?” Cap asked. Anna huffed, “It takes seven to work correctly...so if i had to guess, there are six more out there somewhere.” The dragoness walked past the Avengers and headed back towards the mansion. “Nice wife of yours Stark” Hawkeye said sarcastically. “Shut up Clint” he replied and followed after Anna.
Meanwhile…
Acario, Hannibal, and Stevan were in a cave somewhere. They were discussing their plans when something came rushing in, panting heavily. A dragoness, she was pink, long, slender and she had a long fin covering the lenght of her back and the underside of her tail. She had a brown mane and long curved purple horns. She wore golden cuffs on her legs and rings on her tail fin. “Hannibal! Dearest!” she exclaimed. Hannibal turned to look at her. “Aruna, my beloved, what news do you bring?” he inquired. He got up and came over to her and nuzzled her affectionately. “Oh it’s terrible! Annabelle and those stupid Avengers destroyed one of our crystals!” she exclaimed worriedly.
“Damn it all to hell!” Acario roared which made Stevan cower and hiccup.
“Relax! This is but a minor setback…” Hannibal said. “How so? How is this minor!” Acario spat. “When that Stark child is born...well finally have a bargaining chip. Annabelle will have no choice but to meet our demands..as will Stark. Then when we get them both alone….haha…” he chuckled with a toothy grin. “Well let's just go rip it out of her!” Aruna spat. “HUSH!” Hannibal’s voice boomed and Aruna cowered.
Hannibal sighed, “Hush my dear...my beloved. We must wait...patience is a virtue afterall. Everything will fall in place according to plan…”
6. Clearwater Nightmare
**Summary for the Chapter:** | 31610759a8164720b7f4646b6de7d034 | ['237e7c2d437149c4b60df248800fe136'] | Tony found himself groan, stirring awake. He felt someone near him, another body. He looked up, batting his eyes awake to see the dragoness, her neck was draped over him and a wing. “Anna?” Tony murmured. The dragoness stirred and she lifted her head and craned it to look down at him. “Tony” she purred and she nuzzled him lovingly. “Hey sugar lumps...are you alright?” he inquired. Anna nodded, “I’m fine dearest...but...you almost weren’t. Be careful getting up…” she said. “Wh-Why?” he inquired. “Tony...dearest...in order to save your life...a change of appearance was necessary” she said. “What?” Tony murmured and he got up and looked about. They were in a cave, no, somewhere underground as sunbasked through a single open hole in the roof of the underground space. He saw moss, crystals, and a small body of water in the sanctuary. “Tony…” Anna murmured. Tony found himself walk over to the water and when he looked down…
A red dragon with dark hair and a mustache stared back at him. “I’m a dragon?!” he gasped and fell back on his haunches. He still had a reactor in his chest. He pawed at it before Anna stirred and she faced him but still lay on the ground, sprawled out. Tony looked at her, “What happened? Where are we?” he inquired. “I don’t know Tony...but Acario and his brothers sent us here to get rid of us, which probably means they’re up to no good back in New York and Cali” she explained. “And...me?” he gestured to himself with a hand paw. “Your reactor was cracked...we don’t have a replacement. Since you bred with me….well...you inherited some of my powers. So...i sped the process along so you could change and be safe.”
“Wait...so just by fucking you i got ten times stronger? Sweet…” he answered.
“Tony…” Anna scolded as he came close and nuzzled her face with his strong one. She smiled at him and let out a low purr. “Is the baby alright?” he asked. Anna looked down at her plump belly, “We’re okay dearest...but since I’m dragon...we might have a clutch now…” she murmured. “You mean more than one?” he inquired. Anna nodded, “I need to make a nest...so I can lay our eggs…” she replied. Tony nuzzled her plump belly with his nose and she smiled and licked his cheek. “This is going to take some time to get used to…” he murmured. She smiled, “You can do it dearest…” she replied. Tony nuzzled her belly again, feeling stone like objects. “Eggs? My eggs?” he inquired. Anna nodded, “Our eggs..” she murmured. Tony looked about, “Well how are you going to make a nest?” he inquired. “I’m going to go and look for materials tomorrow...its not safe right now…” she said. Tony sighed and he came and stood over her before he lay down on top of her, draping his wings over her as well. “Tony…” she purred. “I’m going to keep you safe...all of you..I promise…” he said and coiled his tail around her tail and he licked her cheek before she lay her head down and he lay his head atop her’s.
They slept peacefully that night, but in the morning Tony bolted awake, raising his head hearing something roar. Anna yelped waking up, she shuddered, “Tony...Tony I’m scared..” she murmured. “Shh..” he shushed her and he stayed over her, protectively. She whined, “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Tony...I need to lay our eggs…” she whimpered. He looked at her, he couldn’t let her go and look for nesting material by herself. “Alright...but stay close to me..” the bigger dragon said and he helped her to stand.
Tony and her made the climb up through the whole to the surface and found themselves in dense vegetation. “Tony…” she murmured. “Alright...you find some material and I’ll look for food…” he said and started off in the opposite direction of her. The dragoness watched him walk off with worry before she stretched and pulled some grass and leaves from the ground. She dropped it back down the hole and proceeded to look for more soft things. She would have to dig a base out for the nest once back down in their small sanctuary. Tony on the other hand, he walked along, looking to see if he could find anything edible before he came to a small pool. He craned his neck and spotted fish, and without much hesitation, he dunked his head in the water and came back out with a large mouthful of the tiny fish. He chewed before swallowing, “Hmm...like sushi!” he said and dipped his head back in the water.
Anna was back inside the sanctuary in about a half hour. She had dug out a small hole for the base and filled it with foliage. She would lay their eggs soon, she just knew it. She only hoped Tony would return, her husband tended to be quite the moron.
Tony ate his fill before scooping up some fish in his maw to bring back to his beloved. He climbed back down into the cave carefully with the fish before he started to walk back to Anna. “Drrrest?” he said muffled, too much fish in his mouth. Anna was cleaning herself as she lay in her spot. She looked at Tony, hearing him call her name. “Tony? Dearest…” she murmured as he came over and craned his neck to feed her. The dragoness took the fish from his mouth and chewed, crunching bone, before swallowing. He stood there and let her feed before he sat down next to her, looking at the nest she made. “That’s a….nice nest...as far as nests go..” he murmured. Anna chortled, “Thank you...oh….soon it will be full of our eggs…” she lamented. Tony nuzzled her, “A bunch of screaming kids...wonderful…” he joked with a chuckle. |
acc4ec2aa15146d89e4feb906836f68b | ['23978fe8ae024c1c97906b5ccad2a9b8'] | “Shh!” Faramir would have clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth if that had been possible anymore. As it was, he put as much ferociousness into his shushing as he could muster, and gave Boromir a piercing glare. He had been trying _not_ to call to his mind that occasion, or any of the countless others like it—to call those memories merely pleasant would be to understate them greatly.
Boromir only laughed. “Little brother, you worry too much. He would not banish _you_ , of all people. And if he does happen to find out… well, what better reason could you give why this law is perhaps not such a fantastic idea?”
Boromir’s ghost wafted stubbornly closer to him, and Faramir decided, after some consideration, that his plan was worth a try. He closed his eyes, and let himself feel the first shivers of a familiar touch…
10. Startled
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Some Boromir/Faramir
The eyes he knew so well were closed as they lay together. He touched the dark hair that ran in gentle waves over Faramir’s shoulders, his eyes taking in its faint sheen as his skin perceived its softness. _Slowly_ , he thought, _don’t hurry_. _Make it last_. The blankets were pushed down low, baring his brother’s lean-muscled chest, and he let his hand slide down to rest on Faramir’s hip. He edged closer bodily to feel his warmth, to place dozens of chaste kisses all across Faramir’s face—from brow to lips to the corners of his eyes—and felt Faramir sigh and return his kisses lazily, as if adrift on the edge of slumber.
He let his arm rest where it was, across his brother’s belly. He didn’t want to move, to do anything to shatter the moment. He had learned to keep the shameful need out of his eyes and his actions, yet he had not been able to keep it from growing within him. It had grown of love, but it tormented him, lingering in his thoughts when they were apart and creeping into his mind when they were together. At nights sometimes it would surge, a prickling heat that twisted and coiled inside him, but one that he would not, _could_ not satisfy. He unwittingly cultivated his desire until it sweltered through him, undeniable.
He pressed close to Faramir, inhaled his scent, and found himself making tiny sobbing noises while whispering his brother’s name. Faramir shifted in his embrace and snaked an arm around him, then leaned close and kissed him deeply, sharing his breath until Boromir found himself growing lightheaded. Then Faramir opened his eyes…
“Boromir?”
The elder brother nearly jumped, so startled was he.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Faramir said, smiling at him across the table.
Boromir shook his head. “No, my thoughts were leagues away… forgive me,” he said, as lightly as he could. He did his best to pay attention to the rest of their conversation that evening.
11. Each Moment, Without End
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> 50 moments from Boromir's life, each in a single sentence.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Written for LJ comm 1characters, theme set delta.
01\. Blend
He had always wondered just how it was that the City shone so brightly, newly white in the distance; when you stood in it, you could see the traces of old soot and dust that were ground into the stone, the marks of venerable history.
02\. Stain
Long ago he had overheard a laundress complaining of how hard it was to remove the stains of blood on soldier’s clothes, and he thought grimly of that as he picked at black flecks and sent them shivering away on the wind.
03\. Island
After the bridge came down most of the stones were swallowed by the River, but a few were piled high, appearing to his weary eyes as an island in the water, a dark silhouette reminiscent of old ruin…
04\. Apple
A summer apple could not rival those that came from the City’s stores in winter, he thought, for in the cold they were sweet, soft, wrinkled, and tasted of sunlight and warmth.
05\. Paper
The letter was worn, creased, and often-refolded, kept safe in his pocket—it bore his brother’s admonition that he be careful.
06\. Relax
The wine went untouched though his fingers clutched the cup until his knuckles were white: how could he relax, even here, with the riddle answered in such a way?
07\. Leaves
He could not deny that Ithilien was beautiful in the autumn, for the colors of the trees hid the drear shadow behind them.
08\. Proof
What good was speculation about whether it could be wielded, he wondered, when proof could be had with only a twitch of the finger?
09\. Ugly
It turned his stomach: Orcs had camped here, leaving behind trampled mud, ruined greenery, and filth, marring the fairness of his land.
10\. Book
He made his excuses and left Faramir alone in the archives as soon as he could—it was not that he disliked the books or the quiet, but merely that the dust made him sneeze.
11\. Brood
When the hobbits told him, at great length, about their Shire and all their relations (siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, and on for as long as you cared to listen), he would find himself thinking back to his younger days, and wondering what it might have been like to grow up so: his world had been vast in comparison, yet somehow… so much smaller.
12\. Mesh
Blue and silver—colors of Dol Amroth—glinted in the sun as the fishers drew in the net; at the sight, he knew the sea his mother had so loved was in his blood also.
13\. Soft
Holding the end of the bracing bandage with his teeth, he secured it around his wrist, frowning—today’s lesson had apparently been that even practice swords are not soft.
14\. Shelf | 2d0e0ca5ae434fd09881af7a9dd6dc85 | ['23978fe8ae024c1c97906b5ccad2a9b8'] | Two weeks in Ithilien had flown by. The trainees had trekked across the lands, met many of the Rangers currently stationed there, been shown several secret places, and practiced at creeping across the lands unseen and unheard. All of them had done so before at higher stakes, for all were experienced warriors, but they pushed themselves ever to improve. They practiced night maneuvers; Rangers would fight at night more often than others, by necessity or design, and doing so required great skill and much practice, for the enemy had the advantage of troops who could see in the darkness better than any man. They learned many things known only to the Rangers, of which I can tell no more here. And at last the time came for the final test of their skill. For this they traveled back across the River, and past the City, and into Anórien, under the shadow of the White Mountains.
The small encampment of a half dozen tents was set up near a little stand of trees and a pond fed by a mountain stream. For two days all the men rested and stored up their strength. By daylight and firelight, there was quiet conversation and an undercurrent of anticipation.
“I have heard there are three companies of Rangers in need of a captain,” one of the younger men, Cirion, said idly to his companions, “two of them newly formed.”
None of them had yet mentioned this. With the exception of Boromir, all of these men hoped to be granted one of those captaincies, yet even if they all proved themselves worthy, two would return to their former companies empty-handed.
“I can wait, if it comes to that,” said Hador. “There may be more… in future years.”
Another, a man named Daeron, sniffed and looked around the loose circle of men who sat near the fire. “Then you can do so. I have been requesting this for three years; that is long enough,” he said, with a grim look.
This was typical of Daeron, from what Faramir remembered from the few occasions that they had met. The man conducted himself with a sort of strenuous correctness; he was rigid as a dried reed in his insistence on following all of Gondor’s oldest customs, even those less practical at that time. This had made him not particularly well-loved by the men under his command, and among the other captains the rumor was that he thought too much of himself for too little reason. Faramir thought of him differently, though. He sensed in the man a purity of purpose—here was another who loved what the sword protected, rather than the sword itself.
Coming back to himself, Faramir heard Hador speak. “How can you be certain you will even pass the test?”
“I cannot be certain, but I know it,” Daeron said smugly.
“Is that a boast I hear, Daeron? I am surprised at you!” Hador laughed. His manner was the opposite of Daeron’s, though he was no less determined.
“There is no boast in stating the obvious,” Daeron replied, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Hador.
“Time will tell, my friend.”
Each day, a pair of men set off up the mountain, up the long trail. Though the journey would take several days, they went only lightly burdened, with a small pack containing the barest necessities. Any competent man can do well when fully supplied and comfortable, but Rangers did not always have this luxury; it was their lot to do much with little, and in this, these men would have to prove their ability.
The brothers were the third and last pair to leave, after Daeron and Hador. The sun had barely risen when they began, walking swiftly along the grassy path across rolling fields of long grasses and tiny yellow flowers, and soon disappearing from sight.
They walked through ever-changing landscapes. Oaks over green-shaded floor thick with a mould of brown leaves in which little creatures scuttled gave way to larches and firs. The dark soil at their feet sloped up and became interspersed with fields of boulders and great stones amongst the trees. They scrambled over these when no path led around them.
And sometimes the path was clear, but often it was not. It was crossed in places with other trails unmarked on the one old faded map they had studied of this mountain. Deer trails, they supposed, after starting down a few when the way was uncertain. It was plain enough which path was theirs when the other twisted and turned wildly (though Boromir had briefly and wryly mused that the deer might have chosen better routes than men had). In other places they caught sight of old, broken paving stones at their feet, and these were somehow heartening; men in bygone days had walked here, when the danger of war was less in Gondor and folk could spend their time on such things as climbing mountains for the dream of seeing as far and clearly as eagles. And in other places, no path at all was evident.
They spoke a little bit, cheerfully and on topics of small importance, and their thoughts dwelt on the road ahead. |
8ebf0730e73c4341a7ec495a39bfdd87 | ['23af4230e02749968ff6a46f5abdd4ec'] |
Wave After Wave
Skylor took another sip of her soda and looked around her. Nights like this were wonderful, hanging out with all the ninja and their friends huddled around a wide television in a dimly lit room. Everyone so... relaxed. Laying on pillows, passing around bowls of popcorn, chips and jellybeans. She cherished the nights she didn't have to work, where she could spend time with people that liked her. Even after she and Kai had split, he had treasured their friendship and still enjoyed her company.
And of course, she enjoyed growing closer to his sister.
She and Nya were sitting toward the back of the room. Nya had slung her arm around Skylor's shoulders about ten minutes into the film, and Skylor felt her heart sing whenever Nya would idly stroke Skylor's neck with her fingers. Growing up without hugs made her a little touch-starved, and even something as minor as an arm around the shoulders made her insides buzz.
Of course, Skylor wasn't always sure how to respond. What would be too much? Tenatively and no longer paying attention to the movie, she let her head rest on Nya's shoulder. She didn't see Nya turn her head toward her, but she did feel the smile on her cheeks.
They remained like that for about ten minutes, which was all it took for Skylor's neck to get tired. As much as she didn't want to break contact she eventually lifted her head, which caused Nya to stir. Skylor saw a mischievous glint in the ninja's eyes, and her heart fluttered.
Nya uncrossed her legs and motioned for Skylor to follow after quietly standing up.
They made their way into the hallway and shut the door behind them.
"Getting bored of the movie too, huh?" chirped Nya.
"I can only listen to that nerdy guy's voice drone on for so long," said Skylor.
"Oh I know," Nya said with giggle.
God she's so cute, thought Skylor, reaching to grab Nya's hand. "That wasn't the only reason you wanted to get up, I hope?"
Nya smirked like the little imp Skylor knew she could be. The shorter woman wrapped her strong arms around Skylor's waist and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
Skylor tilted her head and melted into the kiss. A simple back-and forth game to find the best way their lips fit together. She had been holding her breath and gasped when Nya began to grind on her.
Nya pulled out of the kiss. "Too much? I'm sorry..."
Skylor interrupted her, grabbing Nya's face and kissing her hard. "I'm great," she said after letting her lips make a smacking sound with the release of the kiss.
Nya smiled and slipped one hand to her side and the other to squeeze Skylor's ass. "My room. Now."
Skylor was practically thrown onto Nya's bed, with Nya leaping into the taller woman's arms shortly after she shut the door behind her. Did she lock it? thought Skylor, who swiftly abandoned the thought as Nya dug her knee between Skylor's legs and peppered her neck with nibbles and kisses.
A breathy moan escaped Skylor's lips, and it drove Nya wild. She straddled Skylor's hips and looked down at her blushing lover. She saw lust in those deep golden eyes, and felt a tent being pitched below her, hidden in Skylor's leggings.
Skylor couldn't take her eyes off of Nya as the water elemental slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto her rug. She gave Skylor a naughty smile and wink before shedding her blue and white tank top and baring her naked breasts.
"No bra tonight, hmm?"
"I thought it would... slow things down," purred Nya, lifting one of her breasts to her mouth and flicking her tongue out to lick the nipple.
"Your teasing is getting better," said Skylor, sitting up and letting Nya slide off of her lap. "But you have yet to master the art of..."
Skylor stood up off of Nya's bed, and as Nya excitedly sat erect, Skylor lifted Nya's chin with her finger and stared down at her with half-lidded eyes.
"... the strip-tease."
"Mmmnnn..." was all Nya could say.
Skylor spun around. Slowly, elegantly, her hands ran over the soft curves of her hips. Then her soft ass. She gave it a little wiggle, and then hooked her thumbs into the rim of her pants. Looking back at Nya, she bent herself over and slithered out of the tight cotton. Each of her buttcheeks jiggled as she slipped the garment off. She kicked it aside and turned back to face her girlfriend. Using both hands, she peeled off her long-sleeve shirt and threw it into Nya's face. Nya of course was too transfixed to dodge, and let out an 'oof' when the warm fabric hit her face.
While not quite as big as Nya's, Skylor still had a pair of luscious and full breasts. She held them together with a light gray bra. Nya caught eye of the sparkly clasp between the cups just as Skylor sauntered over and pulled her ponytail out.
If seeing the locks of hibiscus hair fall around Skylor's shoulders was nearly enough to break Nya, Skylor pressing her warm cleavage into Nya's face had definitely been her breaking point. Not wasting anymore time, Nya used her teeth to undo the clasp and moaned as Skylor's soft breasts fell around her face and her nipples grazed Nya's shoulders.
"Aahh..." moaned Skylor as the sensitive buds kissed cooler flesh.
Discarding the bra, Skylor climbed over Nya onto the bed. The ninja then lifted her own breasts up to nuzzle against Skylor's. Nipple met nipple, and they both gasped and sighed with the ticklish pleasure.
"You may have the moves, but I can still get a moan outta you when I want-oahhhh!" Nya was unable to finish her sentence as Skylor's erection slipped out of her underwear and slapped onto Nya's increasingly damp crotch. | 2493dfdafb69436ca75138a63c7e3097 | ['23af4230e02749968ff6a46f5abdd4ec'] | A Blue Marker
Nya knew why Skylor didn’t have a mirror in her bedroom.
She knew why the one in her bathroom was so small.
It was the same reason Skylor slept on her back.
Why whenever Nya saw her girlfriend wake up beside her, she noticed the scabs on Skylor’s back that she could reach by herself.
On occasion she’d notice when Skylor would forget to wash the blood from under her fingernails. The deep red clashed with Skylor’s dark skin almost as badly as the thing she wanted to remove. Or “rip off”, as she put it.
One night, Nya saw it fresh. An opened scar leaking plasma through Skylor’s pink tank top.
That was enough.
Nya dug through her bag, pushing back all the receipts and candy wrappers and used gift cards. Reaching the bottom, she pulled out a little blue Sharpie. She uncapped it and tested it on her hand. It worked.
Nya looked up at Skylor.
_Let me try. Please._
Skylor’s jaw unclenched.
_Okay._
Pulling off her tank top and setting it carefully aside, Skylor lay on her stomach and held on to her pillow. She pushed her ponytail to the side.
Nya kneeled over her girlfriend and ran a hand across the fading pattern. Fading, but not faded.
She started to draw a pair of horns on the snake. The ink from the marker felt cool, almost soothing to Skylor. As if droplets of water were winding through the swollen wounds she’d inflicted. Nya didn’t draw on the spots where the skin was still broken.
She drew horns, a pair of feathered wings, arms, legs, a stream of water coming from the beast’s mouth, and an elegant fin on the tip of its tail. She topped it off with stripes that wound across the creature’s body like that of a tiger.
Nya pulled out her phone and took a picture of her handiwork. Skylor rolled onto her back and looked at the picture.
A tear rolled down her cheek and collided with her smile.
Nya smiled. _I can’t fix it, but I’ll do what I can to make it hurt less._ |
0b6d8bb85c1641b2857dd49fba7a434d | ['23b3d24388ee4da0a83a41a55c8d361b'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> This was too good to pass up. Songs are in the second chapter.
Mako stared at his email in disbelief. He shook his head and re-read the message for the fifth time. The sender was right, the tone was right, the message was completely unbelievable.
"Bolin! Come read this and tell me if I'm hallucinating!" He called out. Bolin padded down the hall, confused.
"What is it?" He asked leaning over Mako's shoulder. He read the email and froze.
"Nope. Not hallucinating. Call Korra and Tahno right now- nope, I got it" He quickly pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket and called the first. When she answered, he didn't even give her time to say 'hello'.
"Korra! Mako just got an email from Future Records and they want to meet us to discuss a contract!" he shouted into the phone.
"What?!" Korra shrieked back. Bolin easily pictured her shooting out of bed and nearly collapsing on the floor.
"You know for a singer, screaming like that isn't good for your vocal chords" he quipped, entirely aware that she would have whacked him if she was there.
"When is it Bo? Make sure we don't have a show then" she said managing to compose herself.
"It's in a week, Mako's already on it" he proclaimed, but he looked behind him and saw that his brother was still staring in shock at the computer screen.
"I can't believe it, we're gonna get signed!" Korra exclaimed excitedly through the phone.
\---
The four band mates stood on the street outside of Future Records office. None of them could really believe what was happening. With them was Korra's uncle Tenzin. Conveniently, he was a lawyer and willing to look over their contracts for almost nothing. He didn't care for the sentimentality of the situation as the group did.
"Let's get this over with" he sighed, pushing the door open. Taking point, he addressed the secretary at the desk.
"Hi, the band Republic Tribe is here to discuss a contract" The band behind him badly attempted to hide their enthusiasm as they inspected the walls lined with silver, gold, and platinum records of bands they grew up listening to and still used as influences. Some frames were filled with signed photos or newspaper clippings neatly cut from the papers. Bolin poked Korra's arm excitedly and pointed to a photo of a drummer mid performance.
"I love him" he whispered, eyes wide. Tenzin got their attention and they all followed the secretary into an empty board room.
"Miss Sato will arrive momentarily" she informed before going back to her desk. The second she was out the door and out of earshot, Tenzin turned to them.
"Now what did we discuss?" he fished. Korra and Bolin slumped grumpily into their chairs.
"Say nothing unless it's directed to you" the band said in unison. Tenzin nodded.
"Very good. This whole thing will be over a thousand times quicker if you do that" he adjusted his clothes. The door opened and every eye was on who entered. She was tall and dressed in a sharp business suit that made her look almost intimidating, if it weren't for the welcoming smile on her face. Her long black hair was tied loosely behind her back allowing her vivid green eyes to be seen better. Korra and Mako were immediately stricken.
"Hi everyone, I'm Asami Sato. I'll be going over your contract with you" she said with a pleasant smile. She sat down and opened a folder in front of her.
"So we wanted to offer you a one album, 360 deal. That means..." Asami started explaining the contract and Tenzin followed along in his copy of it, occasionally objecting. Korra quickly lost interest, choosing instead to inspect Asami. The nail polish on the pinky of her left hand was slightly chipped, a fact she seemed to aware of as her thumb sometimes ran over it as she spoke. Whenever there was a disagreement with Tenzin, she made sure to make ironclad eye contact.
She sat with her back ramrod straight. Whenever they settled on something, her dimple on her cheek became noticeable. Whenever she was unhappy, she would go to tuck her hair behind her ear, leading Korra to believe that the hairstyle was new. And she was fierce. Korra knew from that moment that this girl would be getting a lot of songs. She was surprised when they paused for a quick water break. Both Tenzin and Asami left the room, chatting amicably. They moment they were out of earshot, Mako turned to the rest of them.
"I'm gonna do it" he warned. Bolin let out an unsure noise.
"I don't know man, I don't think she'll be into you" Mako took offense.
"Why not?"
"Because my gaydar's going off" Tahno deadpanned. "She hasn't even looked at me. She can't be straight" Korra grinned.
"No, I'm still gonna ask her out. We'll know for sure if she denies me" Mako declared.
"What seriously? That is literally the worst idea. It's not as if it's that black and white" Korra said incredulously. Bolin nodded in agreement.
"It's fine, if she says no, it's fine, but it'd be a crime not to try" Korra threw up her hands. Asami and Tenzin returned and the whole thing continued for another three hours. By the time the contract was all agreed on and signed, everyone was tired. However, Mako still had enough energy to approach Asami.
"Hi, I'm Mako. I play guitar" he introduced, holding out his hand. She took it with a smile.
"Yes I know" she said playfully. Mako blushed.
"Right, I was just wondering if maybe we could go out together sometime. Like a date, or not, if you don't want that" he offered nervously. Asami's smile didn't falter.
"Thank you, but I don't date men, especially not clients" she answered. | bf673640b21742b6ba97b87b5bcba97e | ['23b3d24388ee4da0a83a41a55c8d361b'] |
1. lives alone in the woods by a waterfall and finds a confused lost person walking around AU
**Author's Note:**
> You can find me at USER.tumblr.com where prompts may or may not be open. But please ask or check my page for that before submitting anything. If they are open, I'd love to hear what you'd like. Thank you!
The sun had just past cresting in the Sky when Lexa heard it. The panicked voice echoed against the trees, alerting her to the presence of some (likely) unwanted visitor (to be fair, she didn’t think many people were welcome). The rushing waterfall should have blocked out the sound, so the intruder must have been closer than she expected.
With a weary sigh, she left her tiny cabin and marched toward the waterfall. A half mile of walking later and she found no trace of any lost hiker. ‘You’ll go crazy out here, Lexa. Are you sure this is a good idea?’ She shook her head furiously. She was not going crazy, whatever Costia had said. But she didn’t matter now.
She turned towards home and sighed again. If someone was truly lost, she’d find their body in a few days.
“Oh my god, excuse me?” Lexa jumped at the voice and turned, already in her defensive stance. A pretty blonde gaped back at her. Her hands were raised in defense (not as good as Lexa’s) and she leaned away. Not a threat. Lexa dropped her hands.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded. The girl dropped her hands but stayed on guard.
“My name is Clarke and I’m a little lost. You seem to know your way around. Could you possibly help me?” If she wasn’t so pathetic (pretty) looking, Lexa would have walked away right then. If hikers were too dumb to follow the trail, they didn’t deserve her help.
“Let me see your map” The girl positively sagged with relief and pulled out the large paper criss-crossed with lines that made up Mount Weather. Lexa unfolded parts until she saw where her cabin was situated. “Where were you last sure of your location?”
“Here” Oh. The point was too many miles away to hike by sundown and then to get out of the mountain. Clarke had no overnight gear, either. Clearly there was only one thing to do. She sighed again.
“You’ll stay with me tonight” She was already headed back towards her cabin when Clarke finally managed to speak.
“What? I think I missed a step here” she sputtered in confusion.
“You won’t be able to get home before it’s dark and without camping gear, it would be irresponsible of me to let you wander around and possibly die” She held her door open and gestured for Clarke to enter.
“Nice to know you care” Sarcasm. She didn’t need it.
“My name is Lexa. You can take my bed” she said, closing the door behind her. Clarke was looking around the small building in wonder and Lexa tried not to see how her fingers itched or her eyes sparkled. Especially not when they turned on her.
“I _really_ appreciate this. Thank you” Lexa swallowed the sincerity and felt it burn all the way down. It would be a long night.
2. Clarke decides to use Lexa as her personal canvas all the time
Lexa was happily reading a new book on her apartment’s crazy comfortable couch when Clarke barged in to the previously quiet room.
“I need you naked right now” Lexa blinked lazily. It bothered her that the request wasn’t at all the weirdest thing her girlfriend had ever demanded of her. However, it did signal the end of any calm reading, so she closed her book.
“Not that I’m against that, but why?” she asked.
“I ran out of canvases because I forget to check before I started working and now I _need_ to see what this idea looks like, asap. I want to paint your back and it’ll be really nice and you can still read, please Lex” Clarke crossed the room and took Lexa’s hands in her own. Lexa smiled and nodded.
“If you _need_ it” Clarke grinned and kissed her cheek.
“You’re perfect”
“That’s what I keep telling you” Lexa grabbed her book and followed her girlfriend to her bedroom where Clarke was already dumping paint tubes from her backpack and setting them up on her palette. She stopped and turned just in time to see Lexa enter and pull her shirt off by the hem and then her bra seconds later. She stared hungrily at her bare body.
“You’ve seen this before” Lexa laughed, laying front down on the bed.
“Doesn’t make it any less hot” She pressed a soft kiss to the bare shoulder before her and then straddled Lexa’s hips. “Now go ahead and read but try not too move too much” The brunette hummed in agreement and promptly forgot the world in a mix of hands, brushes, and fictional worlds. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that Clarke tugged gently on her braid.
“Are you finished?”
“Yeah, let me get a mirror” Clarke scrambled off and Lexa missed her familiar warmth for the whole minute that she was gone. “Okay, look over your left shoulder. Can you see it?” Lexa did as she was told and inspected the image stretched over her back. It was a forest littered with sunlight and a dark silhouette in the center done in shocking realism.
“It’s beautiful, Clarke. Is it what you imagined?” She ignored the artificial sound of a camera shutter.
“Yeah, but I pictured it better all over your sheets” Clarke murmured in her ear, pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck. Lexa rolled her eyes and smiled.
“You’re a monster” she mumbled, rolling over. |
cba42a6649cf4cc2b98e0af771aff30f | ['23d936a2f54942fa9f1a0d1ca08eee0f'] | “They’re small-minded people,” Allura said, placing her hand gently on Romelle’s back, and though she didn’t flinch at the touch, she didn’t relax into it either. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just, I’m trying to hold all of this together, and if something like us can break it, I can’t take that risk. I don’t know what I’d do if I lose you in all of this, my love, and I don’t know what I’d do if I make a mistake and our alliance comes crashing down, and...” Allura finished with a steadying breath, because _no_ , she was not going to confide in Romelle when she shouldn’t be the one hurting.
But Romelle turned to face her anyway, meeting her eyes with sad, worried ones and reaching up to cup her cheek, brushing the fallen tears away. Allura opened her mouth to take it all back, but Romelle covered it with her own.
And slowly, so slowly, they patched themselves up kiss after kiss.
_you’re beautiful_
When she wasn’t wrapped up in the passion and the heat and the steady stream of _Allura, Allura, Allura_ , it was easy for Romelle to get wrapped up in the lies in her head. Because as Allura’s lips moved down her body and Romelle got a chance to let herself _breathe_ , suddenly her thighs were too big, and her stomach was too round, and the light was still on, so Allura could see every part of her. So she closed her legs together, and she sucked her stomach in, and she hid under the sheets, not meeting Allura’s worried stare.
“I’m tired,” Romelle offered in explanation, but after this long she should know that Allura could see right through her.
“It’s frustrating, Romelle,” Allura said softly in the quiet of the room, her hands resting on Romelle’s thighs, and Romelle couldn’t tell if she wanted them there or not, her self-doubt battling with the reassuring feeling of Allura’s touch, “that you don’t see what I do. I love every part of you as much as the next. You know that.”
She didn’t know that, even after all the times she’d said those exact words, but Allura was more than willing to remind her.
Soft, gentle lips caressed her chest, stomach, hips, thighs, and as Allura opened her up inch by inch, her insecurities flew away if only for just a moment.
_i love you_
Ready to make the promise of a lifetime, Romelle’s hands in her own, Allura didn’t know if she could be happier. People surrounded them - the paladins, their families, their allies - but Allura’s gaze was solely for the woman in front of her, who she was to have and to hold, for the rest of her life.
An “I do” fell from Romelle’s lips, sure and strong, but there was an undeniable softness hidden in it, and in the smile that Romelle couldn’t drop even if she tried. Allura cheeks hurt from her own, but she couldn’t care less, because she had never felt so much joy as she did in this moment.
“I do,” Allura repeated when Slav (yes, Slav) finished the words of her promise. And here, standing in white dresses and lace veils, surrounded by flowers in vases and in their hair, everything else faded to white noise.
Their smiles came together in a kiss, and it was so much more than a promise. It was a beginning, a trust, and a love, that they could only share with each other.
**Author's Note:**
> drop a kudos/comment if you enjoyed! it’d mean a lot !! ♡♡ | 532c21b6198340b4bbea94eda5d90814 | ['23d936a2f54942fa9f1a0d1ca08eee0f'] | bee by my side (forever)
**Author's Note:**
> this is my contribution to the adashi tag, you’re welcome in advance
It was common knowledge - if you stung someone, you would inevitably die. Shiro knew this.
Still, who could blame him? That bitch Zarkon had it coming, and Shiro couldn’t sit back and not do anything anymore. He stung him before he even knew what was happening, and watching him cry out in pain and fall to the ground was more satisfying than Shiro had imagined.
Still, he knew what this meant. Shiro had mere hours before his death, and he knew how he wanted to spend it.
“I’m leaving the hive,” he had said, standing in front of his lover with determination in his eyes. Adam’s tears fell instantly, and Shiro averted his gaze.
“But why?” he had asked, taking off his glasses to wipe at his tears. His thin wings had sparkled beautifully even as they drooped low. “You’ve only hours to live, why wouldn’t you want to spend them with me? I love you.”
“I know, Adam, and you know I love you too, but you also know how important this is to me!” Shiro had turned and was walking away when he stopped at the sound of Adam’s voice.
“P-Please, Takabee...”
Shiro cursed. Adam was the only one who called him Takabee. The sound of it rolling off his lips in his broken voice tore at his heart. But no. He knew what he had to do.
“I’m sorry, Adam,” was all he said, as he flew away, never looking back.
But now that he was outside the hive, he realized the mistakes he had made. He did not regret his adventures. He’d met other bees and mosquitoes and even a butterfly who he’d formed beautiful friendships with. He did regret leaving Adam though, and his heart longed to be with him again.
“Go,” Desmosquito Lance said. “You miss him. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I do,” Shiro agreed, flying away with one last look over his shoulder at the team he was leaving. His time was almost up, he hoped he could make it.
He flew past cars and people and animals alike, stopping at nothing to get back to his love. The minutes were ticking by, and he could feel himself growing weaker, but his drive and determination to see the bee he loved kept him going.
At last, he flew into their shared home, eyes meeting Adam’s as he looked up, still wiping away falling tears.
“Takabee, you came back!” Adam cried, happy tears replacing sad ones. Shiro flew over to envelop him in a loving embrace, the feeling of Adam in his arms settling an indescribable warmth over his heart.
“Adam, I don’t have much time,” Shiro whispered, pulling back. Adam laid him on the couch, resting his head in his lap and stroking his antenna soothingly. “I never should of left you, Adam. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“I know, my love, I know,” Adam said, stroking Shiro’s fuzzy cheek. “It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“Adam, my honey, my beebee, I love you more than words can describe, and I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Shiro said weakly, feeling his body starting to give in to the sweet release of death. “I’ll miss you, Adam...”
With shaking hands and teary eyes, Adam leaned down to place one final kiss against Shiro’s lips. He still tasted of honey, even in his final moments.
“I love you, Takabee.”
As the words fell from his lips, his lover died in his arms. |
bff6ddc8d603453b822e6e4989092942 | ['23e928701d4742caac4115b8c75781da'] | He sat in his chair, his back as straight as a rod, his suit blisteringly hot while his tie suffocated his neck. Every muscle was tense, thrumming with energy, the kind of anticipation someone has just before they turn the key in the ignition of their car. He stared vacantly ahead as the meaningless chatter filled the air, a swirling cloud of white noise that caressed his face lovingly before going in one ear and out the other. To his left, a girl with dyed hair was none too subtly trying to get his attention, continually attempting to coax him from his emptiness to try and rejoin her reality. A reality of glitz, glamour, sex, wealth, _ corruption _ that Namjoon was privy to watching the black seed blossom into a flower so deceptively bright. An apple so tantalizing on the outside, color a bright ruby red that glistens in the light beckoning everyone closer, begging for someone to sink their teeth into - but the core is rotten, full of worms and utterly mush. He thought he was free but his chains remained as heavy as ever. The front of his head throbbed painfully before spreading slowly, a storm system slowly covering a city.
_ I am human, I am human, _ he thought to himself as the headache worsened an unfortunate sign of another episode. He wondered, in his true philosophical nature, if he truly was the human one in the room. A woman who sat five rows down from Namjoon, leaned across the table to take the bottle of wine from the man across from her, she had numerous large rings adorning her hand, a glittering topaz ring shone brilliantly in the light. The room was achingly bright, from the shining polished glasses to the silver chandelier, everything new and modern, expensive and better.
"Wealth is the ability to fully experience life," his father had said. "Henry David Thoreau," responded Namjoon idly, gazing out of the car window. They were whizzing past a poorer district, a large graffiti mural depicted various figureheads of MASS, of the government cutting away the flesh of a poor person for a meal. Even in university he was privileged, he thought to himself, never having to struggle for material goods. His true strife tended to lie in his inability to escape the claws of his family, of the culture he grew up in was still living in. He was merely an outsider pressing his face against the glass, he noted. The driver took an exit, three too early, and started driving down the narrow, winding streets filled with wiry children and houses thrown together. Namjoon swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at his father to see if the man knew why they were suddenly so far off their course from home. The imposing man was as unaffected as ever.
Namjoon, sitting across from Seokjin, hastily switched his train of thought away from the night of the party, but his mind still stuck on the quote his father loved to utilize. _ Fully experience life, _ he mused sardonically, his father never felt the vehement hate, the inscrutable pain everyone else went through every day. He never heard the voices, the inexorable thoughts that plagued Namjoon day and night. His father never got to meet Seokjin, a man with beauty unlike any of the people he had met. No one else but Namjoon had been privileged enough to touch Seokjin's mind, so deeply and completely. He admittedly hadn't intended to look into his mind, to intertwine their minds so intimately, but Seokjin was the first person who allowed, who _ asked _ Namjoon to use his powers. It was an accident, he reasoned, and it had been temporary. He ignored the fact that when he woke up in the night, overwhelmed his head screaming in pain, that he reached out, seeking comfort in the familiar, calming presence of Seokjin's mind. It cut the younger to the core that he wasn’t sure when it became habit, reflex even to reach for the the older’s mind when he woke up chest heaving and wrought with fear.
"You _ want _ me to read your mind?" asked Namjoon skeptically, sitting cross legged from Seokjin as the older man typed away on his laptop. Namjoon himself sat curled up on the corner of the bed, wrapped in a large blanket, a notepad in his hand as he quietly wrote out potential lyrics. There was a minute of heavy silence, where the quiet scratching of Namjoon's pencil against paper halted and slowly but surely the clack of Jin's computer keys slowed before coming to a halt. Jin leaned back, looking at Namjoon from over the top of his round glasses. _ He looks beautiful, _ Namjoon thought idly noting how the sunlight pouring in from the window gave Jin a halo effect. Seokjin smirked, having heard Namjoon's musings.
"Of course, I _ know _ there's something I'm forgetting or overlooking and I just want you to do a bit of digging." Seokjin had quickly adapted to having a telepath for a friend, often having strange distracting layers to his mind and making sure to keep his verbal words at the forefront of his mind. Seokjin's mind was a book Namjoon could read all day, again and again, and he still thinks he would find something new, it was a book that he would never tire of. Namjoon fell in love hard and fast, he would readily admit that, and this infatuation was irrational and unhealthy and _ wrong _ , and a million other things his father would write it off as. He had always wanted Namjoon to marry a girl from a wealthy family, before the dinner party that night. | 63f428f2f2014f7f8525122c02962c55 | ['23e928701d4742caac4115b8c75781da'] | It had happened on occasion that a picture of an idol’s soulmark got leaked to the fans whether it be from a picture from the paparazzi or from fans, it was a bonafide death sentence. Regardless of the countless efforts to conceal the marks and give idols some semblance of privacy (even if it meant layers of dark clothing to block out the image), the pictures tended to leak time and time again. Even though BigHit did their best, even Bangtan was not unaffected by the ferocity with which some fans would scour for even a glimpse of an idol’s soulmark. It catapulted a few fansites from a few hundred followers to a few thousand, regardless of what group it was.
Taehyung’s stomach churned, a boat sailing in a turbulent sea. His fingers lingered over his neck momentarily as his eyes flicked to over to Seokjin. The older singer was occupied straightening his own cream colored turtleneck while a makeup artist flit around him attempting to touch up his concealer. She was diligent and entirely clinical, yet somehow Taehyung was still reminded of a child dressing a doll. She gently lifted Seokjin’s shirt, checking once more if his mark was properly covered - disregarding his blush. Tutting slightly, the artist lathered more foundation onto her brush before touching up Seokjin’s lower back. It was just another precaution squeezing the idol into a shape that was not his own, covering his colors with layer after layer of product. She paused momentarily, eyes seeking even a wisp of uncovered color before nodding in satisfaction.
The makeup noonas were always overly preoccupied ensuring that the rest of Seokjin’s marks were covered, even if it meant the eldest needed to wear the most layers out of everyone. His marks were already at risk after what had happened. Even years later the infamous pictures still circulated on fansites, waltzing from twitter before gallivanting on elsewhere. The occasional fan still came, freshly tattooed, shoving their ink into Seokjin’s face. Something private, and inherently precious to Seokjin had been taken and utterly destroyed, but that was life for an idol.
“TaeTae -” said Jimin, a hand extending out from his sweater to catch the arm of the other ‘95 liner. Taehyung turned toward the older boy, glancing briefly at Yoongi pulling on a warm beanie none too subtly checking behind his ear. Jimin tapped Taehyung once more, opening his mouth to say something but the door to the practice room opened with a groan of the hinges. A dark cloud came swirling in as the heeled shoes thundered loudly on the floor, signaling the return of their manager. “Tae,” said Jimin insistently, pulling his friend aside intently.
“It’s time to go, you’re late,” barked the manager. There was no end to their schedule, but Taehyung was certain that they had more time until the next item on their unending to-do list. He began strolling leisurely toward the far end of the practice room to grab his things before heading toward the exit. If his career as a manager didn’t work out, he could always work at an airport. Given the way he was waving his hands, all he needed was two brightly glowing orange sticks.
“You’ve all been cleared by the staff?” he asked, brow furrowing. It was routine for all of the idols to be diligently checked by the makeup staff to ensure that not a fraction of a soulmark was showing, but Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jeongguk as a matter of fact, had not been double checked. Every so often, risking life and limb, a boy or two would slip the check - it wasn’t as if their clothes didn’t cover everything anyway. The other two boys were already nodding convincingly while Jeongguk’s hand was already pushing the door open. Not looking at the manager, opting to look steadfastly at the illuminated screen of his phone, Taehyung nodded. He licked his lips slightly as the manager waved them on toward the car, trusting their judgement.
“No - wait, Tae, don’t go -” Jimin cried out desperately, but the hand of the manager steered the younger boy quickly out of the room.
_ “Will you show me?” slurred Jimin, pulling at the collar of Taehyung’s sweater leaning forward to try and peer down the shirt. Taehyung cried out, pushing the other boy further onto the bed as he scrambled away, face flushed - hand clamped protectively over his neck. To ask to see someone’s soulmark was a declaration of eternal love, one could only hope that their partner had a mark in return. “‘S probably pretty, jus’ beautiful,” the older boy babbled incoherently. _
_ It was a burden Taehyung had held for so long, a cross that only he carried. Yet Jimin was asking to see his mark, actively working to see it. The older singer wouldn’t stay as friendly toward the younger if he saw it, of that much Taehyung was certain. With a bright smile, Taehyung gently pushed Jimin onto the bed, pulling the duvet up over the drowsy singer and shook his head. _
Privately, Jimin had always cherished the small glimpses of the mark on Taehyung’s neck. Swirls of purple graced his friends neck, the petals caressing his face and neck. It was always a snapshot into the younger’s soul, a large declaration of love that would have been absolutely revered in Jimin’s family. Jimin’s own mark was on his ribcage on the opposite side of Taehyung’s, it would be a perfect mirror if it was just a little higher. Yet Jimin had no purple flower to match the other ‘95 liner.
A common misconception in popular media was that soulmarks were a perfect match for your other half, one’s soulmate. Yet the marks were rarely in pairs, and there was no identical flower on someone’s neck that matched Taehyung. No glowing in the chest, no warmth, no world in sudden technicolor. Throughout the years scientists had been baffled by the lack of rhyme or reason for people who claimed to find their other half. Although there was virtually no way to tell if you were soulmates by the marks, it didn’t deter people from searching and hoping. Nor did it deter the media and propaganda that soulmarks were identical matching pairs, romance movie after romance movie showed two soulmates meeting and falling in love proving time and time again.
“No - _ wait _ , Tae, it’s important!” But the singer didn’t hear, exiting the building and entering into the golden wash of sunlight cascading down from the sky. The paparazzi shouldn’t have been there, not outside BigHit but the blinding flashes of light met Bangtan with all the vigor of a thunderstorm. It was a contrast of a gorgeous day and a terrible nightmare.
Jimin had failed to tell Taehyung that his mark was uncovered. |
1bb6a6c52ea340cfa5dab2a8e3670103 | ['241412ec4a184d43a65f27c45e45869f'] | It wasn’t until at least a month later that Yakov told Victor to stand up against the wall and be measured, and then declared that Victor was maybe having an early growth spurt. “My legs hurt,” Victor said, and it wasn't just the usual soreness in his muscles. But the growth spurt, if that was what it was, didn’t seem to have any effect on Victor’s skating (of course), so Yakov didn’t seem to hold it against Victor. He just kept pushing Victor harder and harder, and Victor fell into bed each night so exhausted that he had no time to think about anything but that day's training and the ache in his limbs.
Then, the day after he won gold at Junior Nationals, Victor looked in the mirror and realized that his hair wasn’t just growing longer. It was getting less blond, more silver-toned, but nobody had commented on the change--not even Yakov.
Victor stared at himself in the mirror, pored over the newspaper clippings of himself he'd gathered and the online images of himself on the podium, and asked himself what else had changed that nobody else noticed.
As Junior Worlds grew nearer, Victor's hair went on changing from washed-out blond to thick silver, and a slightly different Victor got out of bed each morning. But that was what growing up was like anyway; how could he tell what part of the difference was his own and what part was the wish? His face was getting less round and more slender, but wasn't that normal? It was true that Georgi hated him because Victor never had so much as a single blemish while Georgi had a full array of acne products on the bathroom counter, but was that just Victor's own good luck?
Victor won gold at Junior Worlds too, to nobody's surprise, and then a magazine for teen girls asked Victor for his first interview and a photoshoot. He asked to have Makkachin in the photoshoot as well, and tried to think of Ilya’s beautiful smile when he smiled for the camera.
And that was how things went on. Victor won gold medals in Juniors, magazines and TV shows asked him for interviews, and people kept using the word "prodigy" to describe him, but they also started using the word "photogenic," and even, strangely, the word "charming." Despite this, or because of it, the fight between Victor and Georgi over the bathroom mirror became a daily occurrence. “You’re vain,” people told Victor. “Stop preening in the mirror and get to work,” Yakov would tell him. "If you want to look in the mirror, go to the ballet studio and improve your posture."
It wasn't really preening, though. Sometimes Victor was just getting to know his reflection, prodding at his now-silvery eyebrows and stretching out his long arms in perfectly graceful gestures. Other times, Victor was smiling at himself in the mirror, practicing his playful wink or trying to make dimples like Ilya's appear (they never did).
Ilya had retired at the age of twenty-three and gotten married, and that had been its own kind of heartbreak once Victor was old enough to realize why he cared, but he never forgot the way Ilya had smiled at his audience, drawn them in. If Victor could just make his audience feel about him the way he'd felt about Ilya, he'd be more than the best skater in the world, more than a one or two-time Junior Worlds gold medalist. He'd be a legend.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Trigger warnings: dysmorphia, various body issues.
>
> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment! Final chapter is coming up within the week. | b0848040802b409cb8589e1a1a62af7b | ['241412ec4a184d43a65f27c45e45869f'] | To be perfectly honest, Steve has actually never been on a real date in his life. Dates arranged by Bucky don’t count. “I . . .” he says. He pictures going to see a movie with Bucky, going to Coney Island, going to an art exhibition (where Bucky would hide his boredom for Steve’s sake), walking around the city. Cooking dinner, playing cards, smoking out the fire escape late at night. He did all of this stuff with Bucky anyways, before, and they never called it a date.
Natasha sips her coffee.
“I don’t know what he thinks,” Steve says at last. And ain’t that the truth.
“Okay,” Natasha says, with more gentleness than usual.
* * *
They're starting to talk about a release date for Bucky. He's been debriefed, he's given them everything he knows, they (meaning Tony) have checked over his arm, they're pretty sure he's not a sleeper agent. He's not dangerous, unless they want him to be.
"What will you do when you get out?" Steve asks him one day. "Any big plans?"
"Nothing," Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. "I mean: nothing. A whole day with no plans. No agenda. Wake up in the morning and go from there."
Steve gets it. A whole day of getting to decide what he wants to do, no mission. "Sounds like a good day," he says. "You know, you'll have to choose a name to use, too."
He says it lightly, but Bucky’s shoulders grow tenser. “So they tell me,” says Bucky.
“And I guess you’ll have to get a cell phone too—those are—“
“You know what else they used to call me?” Bucky says suddenly, his flesh-and blood fingers curling tight around the fingers of his metal hand. “ _The American_. I was the best at pretending to be American. I don’t know what that means. I remember growing up in Novosibirsk but that doesn’t mean it happened. I remember a lot of things that I don’t think happened. It was like—like being thrown in the back of a car, duct tape on your mouth and your wrists and ankles. Someone else is driving the car, and you can hear a little and see a little from the back windows, but you can’t see all of it. You don’t know where you’re going, and you can’t remember right about where you’ve been. And sometimes you lose track. But all the while, you know you’re not driving. You just can’t do anything about it.”
Guilt starts to churn in the pit of Steve’s stomach.
“Maybe someone still knows my real name,” Bucky says. “Or where I really grew up.”
“You were my friend,” Steve says. He didn’t mean to do it like this, but he can’t just sit and listen to Bucky like this and not say anything.
“What?”
Steve looks at the concrete floor. “Your name is James Barnes, but everyone called you Bucky. You were my friend; you fought with me. You risked your life for me. You grew up with me in Brooklyn. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before; I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
Bucky’s pale, even shaky under the fluorescent lights. “Are you serious?”
“I swear,” Steve says.
Bucky looks frozen. “God, I _thought_ I knew you, but—”
And then a bunch of agents and psychiatrists rush in, and Steve never gets to hear the rest of that sentence that he’d wanted to hear more than anything. Steve repeats his story, is ejected from the cell, and then sent to explain himself to Fury, but at least the pictures of Bucky they chase up from the archives prove Steve’s story.
Once everything’s settled down a little and everyone feels certain that Bucky isn’t going to snap from this revelation, they let Steve back in again. Bucky is still sitting on the edge of his bed, but this time he’s watching a video clip on an iPad.
Bucky lowers the iPad, but keeps it in his lap. “You were right,” he says. Steve can tell that Bucky’s comparing Steve’s face to pictures of him from the 40s; although his hair is different, he knows he essentially looks the same. How must it feel to Bucky, seeing films of himself from the past smiling and laughing with Steve?
“I wouldn’t have believed you,” Bucky goes on. “Not at first, anyway. But you’re still an asshole for not telling me.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, and he really means it.
Bucky looks at the iPad again, and then puts it aside. “I don’t remember,” he says. “Maybe I thought you were familiar, but nothing more than that.”
“I know." Steve sits down. "Ask me anything; I'll tell you whatever I can."
And Bucky asks. About the Commandos, about their life back in Brooklyn. Steve talks, and talks, and Bucky listens.
The next day, when Steve asks Bucky if he wants to stay in Steve’s second bedroom when he gets out of SHIELD, Bucky laughs. Steve asks why, and Bucky says, “I can’t believe you just called me Bucky.”
“I could call you James.”
“No,” Bucky says. “It’s fine.” And there’s that smile, that curling-up-at-the-corners smile that Steve knows so well.
* * *
Tony is horrifically inquisitive, Clint is awed, Natasha is impressed that Steve managed to keep the secret from her. Sam is quietly supportive. Fury is mysterious, as always. But none of this is as important as the fact that Bucky is finally coming home. |
53b81d1b2f7a4fc3964d4e70fe8ac63d | ['2417547f26564698be14a0b3413eb12a'] | With Byleth’s teasing helping him along, Dimitri was soon completely inside him, but he stopped there.
“Keep going,” Byleth begged. “You won’t hurt me.”
The words of affirmation seemed to be what Dimitri needed. Byleth had not wanted to be overly vocal, in fear of someone hearing them, but if it was what he needed, then he would let the prince hear his voice. At first, he only spoke softly, praising Dimitri and reassuring him until he found a rhythm. Then those words were reduced to babbling, mixed with moans, and soon Byleth could not speak at all. He was far too focused on the pleasure of Dimitri fucking him.
“Professor,” Dimitri gasped. “I’m-- reaching my limit.”
Byleth knew what he meant, and once again moved his hips back to meet Dimitri’s thrusts. He moaned, far louder than he needed to, but it was all he could do in the moment to tell the prince _ he wanted it _. If there was anyone in the dorms, they undoubtedly heard them, but Byleth no longer cared.
Dimitri managed to last a minute longer, but then he cried Byleth’s name, and came. Fingers dug into Byleth’s hips, hard enough to leave more bruises, but he endured the pain and continued to rock his hips against Dimitri as he filled him. The prince came to rest against Byleth’s back. He tried to speak, but the haze of orgasam kept him from articulating what he wished to say, so he gave up and simply kissed Byleth’s neck.
They both came down from their high, and Dimitri pulled away from Byleth. On shaking legs, he managed to stand long enough to fetch towels from his dresser. They cleaned themselves in silence, and the moment Byleth rolled over onto his back, the prince laid down next to him. He stared up at the ceiling.
“Forgive me, professor. I feel as though I should have taken you to dinner first,” Dimitri whispered. Byleth knew he was being serious, but nevertheless, laughed, harder than he had in a long time. A smile appeared on Dimitri’s face as well.
“It’s alright,” Byleth assured him. “I’m already in love with you.”
Dimitri turned to look at him. Had they not just had sex, Byleth was sure he would be blushing. He kissed the prince, and pulled up a blanket to cover them both.
* * *
In the morning, Dimitri dressed and opened the door to fetch the clothes and armor they had left behind. He didn’t have to go far. Sitting just outside the door, folded neatly in a basket, was everything they had left in the goddess tower. Both he and Byleth decided it would be for the best if they slept in that day.
**Author's Note:**
> Listen, it was only a matter of time before I wrote this. You can only listen to so much Hozier before you're just compelled to write some kind of erotica.
>
> And as usual, my twitter is @lowbatlaptop if you want to follow me there. | a4945af069d14bc58c23a9b68717bdfc | ['2417547f26564698be14a0b3413eb12a'] | Everyone mourned for the death of Jeralt, but time could not stand still and let the living grieve for the dead. Now more than ever, the professor seemed determined to prepare her students for whatever they were to face. Each day she trained them harder than the last, pushing them to their limits with their minds and their bodies.
Dimitri sparred with her one morning, and only then did he understand the depth of the pain she had hidden away. She wielded a wooden lance against him, and threw her pain into the way she moved. For once in his life, Dimitri was the one to knock her off her feet. He had the upper hand, but it was not because of his own growing skills.
Their sparring session ended when the wood of her lance spintered, and snapped, after her put all of her strength behind a single blow that missed Dimitri by an inch. She stopped, breathing hard, and tossed the half of the lance still in her hand to the ground. Everyone in the training hall stared in silence.
“Class dismissed,” the professor said. With the same dignified stride she always had, she left the hall. Dimitri watched her go until the doors swung closed. Only then did the others begin to talk among themselves. Mercedes was suddenly at his side, gentle hand on his forearm. Dimitri nearly jumped at the touch.
“Are you injured? The professor seemed rather intense,” she inquired. He shook his head.
“Thank you, Mercedes.” Dimitri straighted himself up and looked at the lance in his hands. “But I’m fine.”
With a smile, she pulled her hand back, and turned her gaze to the doors. “I sure do hope the professor will be alright,” she sighed. “Perhaps one of us should go check on her.”
There was an unspoken implication in her words; she was asking him to follow the professor, and make sure she was okay. Dimitri didn’t hesitate. He replaced his training lance along the wall with the rest of the wooden weapons, and left to track down the professor.
The dorm room she occupied wasn’t too far from the training grounds, and so he sought her out there first. In his mind he imagined himself opened the door and drawing her into an embrace, holding her to soothe her pain. At her doorstep, however, he felt afraid to knock. Grief did strange things to people. He knew that better than anyone, and the professor-- no, he needed to see her are more than a teacher, just for a while-- _ Byleth _ was a stranger to strong emotion.
Dimitri repressed any fear he felt, and knocked on her door. Byleth did not answer, so he knocked once more. He could hardly hear her voice coming from the other side. But with confirmation that she was within the room, he figured he could beg her pardon for barging in later. Her door was unlocked, and swung open with a slight creak.
Byleth sat on her bed, a leather journal in her hands. She had been staring down at it, but looked up to Dimitri upon his intrusion. That same blank expression, the one that he found so unsettling, had returned. However, her tear stained face betrayed what she was feeling beyond her mask. He needed to say something, quickly.
“I was worried…” he began, but then backpedaled. “If you wish to be alone, then I--”
Byleth shook her head, and spoke with a rough, quiet voice. “Can you stay?”
**Author's Note:**
> If you can't tell, I love Mercedes, and will dedicate a play-through to being gay with her one of these days.
>
> Follow me on twitter as I struggle to keep up with writing a one-shot every day @lowbatlaptop. |
4b8cf854ebd042dfabfe076ad6f03b56 | ['242286eae4c34896a8bd97cb1b811761'] | “I know that it’s weird since Sam’s her father, but, baby, no matter what you will still be her daddy.” He just tightened his arms around her. She lifted up, pulling out of his arms and straddling him. “Seth, I’m serious, ok? She loves you and she knows you. She calls him Mr. Sam and she calls you Daddy.”
“She warmed up to him a lot faster than she did to me.” He mumbled.
“To be fair, she was one and teething. Now she’s four and happy.” She sighed, “At that point she didn’t really know that many men besides my family and she didn’t get to see them that much. Now she knows you and your entire crazy family. She loves you and feels safe with you, ok? She’s not going to forget you.”
“I know but it still hurt to see her hold his hand and play with her toys with him.”
“I know, baby. Even if she decides that he’s her papa, you will always be her daddy. Remember, it’s _ your _ last name she carries.” His dark brown eyes met her green ones.
“Why won’t you marry me? Take my last name?” He smoothed his fingers over her side, just under her shirt. She shifted over him.
“Baby, you know why.”
“Do you still love him?” She hesitated and he looked away, clenching his eyes shut.
“Baby, I’m sorry, but I swear I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” He stayed silent. She ran her hand over his face. “Baby, please?” He looked back at her and she leaned down, kissing his lips softly. “I love you.” She whispered.
“I love you too.” He sighed. “You know I’ll be anything you need me to be, ok? If you end up needing me to back off or something, I will. It’ll hurt like a bitch but your happiness is worth it to me.” His eyes stung and he looked away.
“It’s not like that, baby. It’s been years. I’m not the same person I was then and there’s a good chance he’s not either, ok? I love you now. And yeah, I still love who he was but nothing says we would have worked out. You’re perfect for me now.” She kissed him softly. “What else, baby? Something else is bothering you.”
He sighed. “I just- Remember how I told you about imprinting on you? It was like all the strings in the world were cut?”
“Yeah except one to me and another one that you didn’t know where it went to.” She furrowed her eyebrows at him.
“Well, I know where it goes to now.”
“What? But- Who?” She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not.
“Well, um, you know, it, um, it kind of goes to, um, Sam.”
“S-Sam? My ex Sam?” She clarified.
“Um, yeah. I didn’t know that before it was someone you knew but, you know, there it is.” He smiled weakly at her, eyes showing his panic.
“Ok. Where do we go from here then?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. I mean I have to tell him. He has to know. I won’t leave you though. I still love you. You are still connected to me and still one of my strings but he is too.”
“Ok. Talk to him then we’ll go forward, ok?”
“Ok.” She kissed him softly, chastely.
He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands under her shirt, pulling it off. She leaned back, smiling at him, as she unclipped her bra. He swallowed at seeing her large breasts uncovered. His eyes darkened at seeing her rosy nipples pucker in the cool air. He leaned up, licking across one, hearing her gasp. He rolled them so she was pinned under him, kissing her, feeling her chest against his. He slid his pajama pants down, leaving him bare as he didn’t wear underwear. He kissed down her chest and over her stomach, laving his tongue over her stretch marks. Her hands slid into his short hair, scratching his scalp and making him moan lightly.
He slid her shorts and panties off before kissing along the inside of her thighs before kissing her folds, sliding his tongue into her, making her cry out. He moved his hands along the inside of her thighs, holding her open for him as he kissed her clit, licking at it. She moaned, lifting her hips up, trying to get more. He smiled at her reaction before sliding one of his fingers into her, slowly, teasingly.
“Seth! More! Please!” She cried out. He slid a second finger into her, scissoring them, while he still licked at her clit. She rocked herself on his fingers, crying out for more. He slid a third finger in, fucking her with them. “Seth, yes! Please, baby, more!” He slid up the mattress, moving so his cock was pressed against her. He groaned as he slid into her, slowly, careful not to hurt her. She moaned with him, catching his lips and kissing him deeply as she pulled him closer into him. He started thrusting lightly, with each small thrust bringing him deeper into her until he bottomed out. He switched to slow, deep thrusts as her hand slid down to her clit, teasing herself in time to his thrusts. One of his hands moved to a nipple, teasing her more.
Her legs wrapped around him as she chanted his name in time to his thrusts. “Seth! Seth! Seth!” He kissed her neck, licking down her collarbone and sucking on it, leaving a small mark, claiming her. Her cries got breathier as she got closer and it wasn’t long until she shook around him, tightening. He groaned as that brought him over, spilling himself into her. He kissed her as he slid out of her, moving to her side. He wrapped his arms over her waist after tugging on the blanket to cover them.
“I love you baby.” He whispered.
“I love you too.”
**** | cd704f50dfe048d3a8107c39e38bf318 | ['242286eae4c34896a8bd97cb1b811761'] | "You sure? 'Cause right now Cas sure is eyefucking you, and I don't think you could act like you have more of a clumsy crush." Sam ducked his head and sent a hopeful glance at Cas who had frowned in confusion even as he stared at Sam.
All the while Cas was experiencing a peculiar tightening in his pants and a want for something yet he did not know what.
"Dean? Leave." Cas told him before getting up and moving towards Sam. Dean really didn't need more warning as he hightailed it to his room with one last parting comment, "Don't fuck on the table!"
Cas grabbed Sam's hips, pulling him closer.
"Do you want to be together?" Cas asked, moving his face close to Sam's. Sam's breath hitched and he whispered "Yes."
Cas crushed their lips together, quickly sliding his tongue in Sam's mouth and Sam just melted against him moaning. Soon Cas moved his hips against Sam's, feeling something that was kind of hard against his crotch. He let out a broken moan against Sam's lips. Sam grabbed his ass pulling him closer, rubbing against him.
"We should move to the room." He said hoarsely. Cas nodded before pulling away, practically pulling Sam to the room. Once there they locked the door and Cas pushed Sam onto the bed before straddling him. He began rubbing his hips against Sam's, grinding. Sam let out little surprised moans and gasps. Cas pulled at his shirt, tugging it off before Sam removed his.
Cas wanted to lick his way down that chest. He moved to kissing Sam's throat before Sam flipped them over, grinding his hips against Cas's harder, relishing the way Cas cried out. It didn't take long before Sam felt a wetness through his pants and his grinned as he sped up his grinding until his body shook, cumming in his pants.
He lay there for a bit pressing small kisses against Cas's lips but then his pants felt uncomfortable and he moved back, tugging them off. He smiled as Cas as he tugged his pants off as well.
He was happy to spend the night with his angel and he silently thanked Dean's poor communication skills and dancing for this moment. |
6eef6676c2f74d78bfeb6f8ba6c37827 | ['24254b58af0f4715b56d7695feb92314'] | “We’ll split up and search the castle. I’ll turn on all the security cameras and monitor them from here with Coran. This way we’ll have an eye on everyone and hopefully be able to pinpoint the Feeder’s location. In order to do this efficiently you will all have to go alone” ordered Allura.
Lance took a step forward at this. “That’s a horrible idea, we’ll be ambushed immediately. I’d rather be in pairs and have it take longer than have everybody at risk.”
All the paladins were surprised at Lance’s outburst, Keith in particular. He didn’t know Lance cared for him and the others this much.
“Yes unfortunately you will be at risk, but it's necessary” Allura said. “If you need backup, call and someone will respond. As for you Pidge, after that you’re not leaving my sight.” Allura looked at Pidge sternly, knowing that she’d try to sneak away and join them if she had the chance. She was too weak from the Feeder to do anything other than sit and regain her strength.
“Everyone pick a sector and go!”
Pidge had settled herself in a corner looking for an opening to go and help. She didn’t want to leave her friends alone with that thing, even if she was scared herself. She watched the security feed from her spot keeping a close eye on each paladin.
“Any sign of the Feeder yet?” Allura asked over the intercom. She received a chorus of negative replies. In a way she was glad that they hadn't come across anything yet but that meant it was still hiding out. Keith came on the comm line.
“Guys, I think I’ve got something. I’ve been feeling this underlying chill in the hallway ever since I got to Sector 69L, I think it’s the Feeder.”
Allura checked the feed from the camera in the main hall of sector 69L. There was Keith, walking in the centre of the hallway with his bayard ready. She checked the next camera in his path and blanched.
“Keith, the Feeder is standing in the next hallway. Slowly walk back the way you came and wait for backup. Everyone, go to Keith’s location stat. I’ll meet you there!”
She turned to Pidge.
“You stay right here, and don’t leave. I don’t want you getting hurt again. Coran, look after her.”
Her gaze softened when Pidge made a sad face.
“Sorry Pidge. I just want to keep you safe until you can get back on your feet.”
With that she ran out the door leaving Pidge alone with Coran.
Pidge watched the fight on the monitors annoyed with her situation. She may be a bit weak at the moment, but she could still fight! She carried on watching as Lance and Keith landed a blow on the Feeder while Hunk, Shiro and Allura provided backup. She couldn’t help but smile at the irony of how Keith and Lance were fighting back to back. Normally they were at each other’s throats, but they worked surprisingly well together in the field.
“Pidge, I need to pop out to the supply room down the hall for a minute, I need to get the glorfux. Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
He left. Pidge sat in the control room completely alone. She shivered. She felt as if she was in a horror movie and that she was the doomed character. She glanced around the room for any abnormalities, but found nothing. She got into a more comfortable position and sighed. She wished was down there fighting with them.
Then the lights went out.
Hunk was running in to land a hit on the Feeder’s body when it suddenly disappeared.
“Uhh, guys? Where did it go?”
Shiro frowned. “It must have decided that it wasn’t worth it and forked off.”
“But where would it have gone? Why did it leave?” Lance asked.
“It wouldn’t have gone anywhere else unless it found a better food source, but there’s no one…” Allura thought for a moment then looked up, shocked. “Pidge and Coran!”
She tried calling the control deck but got static. She then tried Coran’s personal comms device. Much to Allura’s relief, he answered.
“Allura, what’s wrong?”
“The Feeder has disappeared, is Pidge with you?”
A pause. “No, I had to run out to grab the glorfux.”
“Quiznak, she’s alone in there! We need to get to her.”
They sprinted to the control room hoping that their friend was still alive.
The lights flickered and went out. It was all so dark. Pidge couldn’t see her hands right in front of her face. She knew what this meant. The Feeder was here. She stayed as still as possible until the lights came back on. As soon as they did, she searched the corners for any sign of the Feeder. She spotted it. It was standing right in front of the door; the only way in or out. No one could help her. She had to fight it herself. | ee0c5e9159584c69b38d665de43d0ef0 | ['24254b58af0f4715b56d7695feb92314'] | She looked up. “Coran, see if you can find out how long it’s been here.”
“Right away Princess.”
Hunk raised this hand. “Why is this relevant? I mean there’s not one in the castle is there?”
“It is relevant because Lance was just attacked by a Feeder and later saw it again with Pidge. To answer your second question, yes, there is a Feeder living in the castle” Allura replied.
Hunk moved closer to the group looking around nervously.
“There is only one known way to get rid of a Feeder, and that is to kill it.” Allura continued.
“But, this has never been done successfully before. They can be killed the same ways as us, however they are incredibly hard to catch. You cannot let it touch you or it will start to suck the life out of you. Until we make a plan we will set up camp in here. Feeders will attack when people are alone or asleep, so no one is to leave this room without a partner and two people will be awake at all times. Wear your armour from now on incase of a battle. The lights will start flickering if it is near, so be on the lookout. Should the Feeder show up, wake everyone and we will have to fight it. I suggest you go to your rooms in pairs and gather what you will need for however long we are stuck here. Go.”
Lance ran to Keith.
“I normally wouldn’t ask this, but I’m scared and you’re an amazing fighter, wanna be my partner?”
Keith was slightly taken aback but agreed.
Looking across the room, Lance could see Pidge had taken a similar force of action and was clinging to Hunk like a lifeline. He caught her eye and shared an unspoken observation. They were in for a long night.
A few minutes later they had assembled a nest of blankets in the centre of the control deck. No one wanted to sleep separately with the constant fear of the Feeder hanging over them. They all huddled down into the mess of duvets and pillows as close together as physically possible.
“We’ll keep a light on dim so we know when it’s here. Shiro and I will be on first watch. Goodnight everyone” Allura said. Pidge snuggled into Hunk, who was lying behind her. She was still so scared after her encounter with the Feeder that she had thrown all dignity out the window. The dim lighting made the tense atmosphere almost seem comfortable and the human pillow behind her was so warm. She tried to stay awake, but soon drifted off into the abyss of slumber.
“Pidge! Pidge wake up! You and I are on watch until morning.”
Pidge slowly sat up yawning. It was too early for this, there were still two varga to go on the castle’s night cycle.
“Yeah yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about being woken up though.”
She stretched her arms out behind her back, working out the stiffness of sleeping in a weird position. She looked at Hunk unimpressed at how awake he seemed. How come he was blessed with the ability to actually wake up and she wasn’t? Sighing, she grabbed her deactivated bayard and waited for something to happen.
Pidge yanked her head back up trying to stay awake. They were one and a half varga through their shift with a little more to go but she wondered if she could manage to stay awake for just another half a varga. She felt her head start to droop again and did nothing to stop it. She slowly closed her eyes but was quickly jolted up again when Hunk poked her side. She opened her mouth to speak in apprehension but he shushed her. She wondered what was wrong and looked around before realising the lights had started flickering. Hunk pointed to a corner. There, shadowed in the darkness, was the Feeder. It stood motionless in wait. Pidge moved to activate her bayard but Hunk stopped her. He must have thought that it would be better to let it be for now. She warily lowered her arm not taking her eyes off it. It tilted it’s head, almost curiously. Hunk moved to wake the others, staying as quiet as possible. Against her better judgement Pidge stood up. Confused at it’s lack of reaction, she took a step towards it.
The light carried on flickering until finally busting out. The room was bathed in darkness, the light from the planets and stars outside the windows gone as well. It was impossible to see anything other than black which made it difficult to keep an eye on the Feeder in the corner. The light came on and Pidge screamed. The Feeder had teleported and had its blackened hand on her throat, squeezing the breath out of her. She tried to pull away but it was slowly draining her. She felt herself growing weaker by the second unable to move. The Feeder was suddenly hit with a shot from behind and let go. Lance lowered his gun stunned that it had worked. Pidge collapsed to the floor gasping for breath. The Feeder shrieked an unholy gravelly scream and disappeared.
The rest of the team ran to Pidge, anxious about their friend. She was propped up by Hunk who brushed her hair out of her face.
“Holy quiznak, are you okay?” Keith asked. That was weird, he normally didn’t say anything in these situations, he must have really been rattled by the Feeder.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just weak.”
He sighed in relief. Allura stood up.
“We can’t lie in wait anymore, it’s too dangerous. We’re going to have to hunt it down.”
Lance went pale. “W-what?” |
1aac784daf3e43128e27ee9eb875bf8b | ['243c25b9b38448eebd7d3d8017ea2c16'] | The emperium that he removed from his cart shone faintly as he placed it on the table. "Join me. You are not just a normal fighter. Lead a guild with me."
She looked at the golden stone. "Give me a good reason to leave my people."
"Your people no long wishes to fight and I say the same for mine. The guilds are shifting, and the ones moving into power are neither mine nor yours. Those that you follow are no longer interested in these wars."
"There are others I can join."
"This guild will start with you and fall with you."
She stared at him. He finished his drink.
"My fighting ability is not the reason you want me in this guild."
"It is one of the many reasons."
He could tell that she was interested, wary and maybe a little confused. "And the rest of the reasons?"
"That will be mine to know."
She played with the piece of parchment that the barkeep had given her before, folding and unfolding. Suddenly, she turned to the counter and waved the man over. He took the parchment from her with a surprised look, then gave a shrug and went back to his job. Vince watched the retreating form of the barkeep, and allowed himself a smile.
* * *
_War of Emperium, One Week later_
An assassin cross moved close behind a paladin currently shouting orders to his guild.
"Kamp." The heavily armored man turned at the familiar voice. The cross leading their rival guild uncloaked from the shadows beside him. "Stop. I'm not here to fight, only to bring a warning." He backed into the darkness.
"There is a new guild. You should be wary."
Kamp scoffed. "A new guild would pose less threat to mine that to yours."
The assassin gave him a glare, unimpressed. "Vince is leading the guild, you know how powerful he is. Best be getting all your men to be cautious; he has a powerful ally."
"An ally?"
"Assassin cross Lenn. The Valkyrie." Information conveyed, the messenger retreated towards the castle exit. "Good luck. You will need it as much as I do." | a60c56db42cc43caabbdc79cce4442d2 | ['243c25b9b38448eebd7d3d8017ea2c16'] |
Bloody Roar
**Author's Note:**
> A little story written for my old friends, when we were young and our virtual, online wars were serious business indeed :)
The first time he saw her, she was one of the many faceless passerby in the town of Prontera. He had been drawn like a moth to the flame, to the veil of power and confidence that surrounded her.
He returned to the same spot, same day every week. Without fail, before the clock strikes twelve, he would see the assassin walking through the crowd, people unconsciously moving aside to give her a path. She radiated power, unseen by the common men, but bright like a beacon to those similarly skilled; Power only wielded by assassins skilled enough to join the ranks of the Cross.
Power that made him trails her path every week. He observed how she paid little attention to those around her, ignored those that she does not fear. She slows and watchs those that move with confidence not unlike hers; size them up, list them down in her mind. Sometimes she pauses and he shrinks back, slips into the alleys, for he knew that she could sense his presence. She would not find him, that he was sure. A cross she might be, but he came with skills of his own.
Within a month he found the way to interrupt her weekly stroll in the Prontera Market. Her trips through town were brisk; no detours, seldom stopping. Once, twice, he had seen her looking at weapons from a vendor. Other times, she stopped at the auction house when there was a katar or two on display. A lover of exotic blades, a lady of lethal weapons.
And he is the master of all weapons. To get his hands on this most mystical of katars had not required much effort. A bait it would be; a bait for the Valkyrie.
For he knows what they called her, from those who dared only to whisper it. "The Valkyrie." They said to each other when she is out of sight. "The Valkyrie of war."
* * *
He sat against the side of his cart near the corner of Prontera, waiting for her to appear at the gate from which she normally leaves. As expected, she paid him barely a glance as she walked towards the gate, boots silent on the concrete path.
"Lady Valkyrie." She showed no sign of hearing him, but he caught the way her eyes flicked towards him. Lazily, he drew the pair of blood colored blades from his cart. She stopped.
"May I interest you with this?" A victory is it, for now he had her attention.
She regarded him coldly. "You had been tailing me for an entire month. What is it that you want, that I have?"
"A deal, if you would, to be discussed over a cup of coffee. This is no common weapon."
"State your trade and we shall have a deal if the price is fair. There is no need for a lengthy discussion."
"And if I were to give it for free?"
She frowned. "It is not wise to pull pranks on me."
"I have no need for cash. You have something else that I want."
The look she gave him was suspicious. Seems like the time to cut the chase. "A show of faith. My name is Vince." Not many people dared reveal their names to crosses; it is not a very healthy thing to do.
Recognition flashed in her eyes; She had heard of him. "Whitesmith Vince."
He nodded. "Would you grace me with your company, my lady?"
"A show of faith." She returned his line with a calculating smile. "If you would accompany me to the Morrocian Inn."
The town where assassins strive, her home ground. Not that it matters to him. One hand on his cart, the other holding his heavy Tomahawk, he turned to the south entrance of Prontera town. "This way, my lady."
They arrived at the desert town before sundown, the whitesmith leading the way as he effortlessly pulled his cart behind him. The rowdy crowd in the local tavern sneaked suspicious glances when he entered, his zeny pouch inevitably catching the eyes of several patrons. Eyes that were turned away immediately when she stepped in behind him.
The jovial barkeep beckoned to them and the assassin cross took the table nearest to him. "The usual, Miss Valkyrie?" She nodded, and the man turned to Vince. "Anything for you, sir?"
He put down an order for a Tropical Sograts, waving the inquisitive barkeep away. They stared quietly as the man walked to the other end of the tavern to break up a fight. When the man returned with their drinks, the whitesmith saw him slipping a slip of parchment to the cross. She accepted the note with a nod before turning her attention back to him.
"So, smith. What is your game?"
He stared at his drink, pondering. What is his game? He was curious; curious enough to throw in a special request to find the weapon that would ensnare her. Curious for a chance to talk to her, to have her attention.
What is his game?
"You." He looked at the girl, and there was no hesitation in his eyes. Beside his chair, his free hand shifted to grip on the Tomahawk. Her eyes were unreadable. Patrons sitting close to their table stopped their activities as they turned, almost as if they felt the sudden tension between the two.
"Confident and reckless." When she finally broke the silence, there was just this tiny wave of relief that ran through him. Despite the confident front, he knew he would be fighting for his life if she had pulled her weapo. "Explain yourself and we shall see about that fight."
"A guild, my lady." He paused. "You have always fought under a leader, and so have I. It is time to leave that shadow." |
4b60f066c6a44f5898fcc678298eb5df | ['2445a96c435f4620b95db4f28014c71b'] | “Ano na namang iniisip mo? Mukha kang manyak,” Joven comments, “Remove that expression off of your face please. It’s disturbing.”
“Ang gwapo naman nitong manyak na ‘to.”
“Ew.” Joven makes a face. “We’re already in front of your condo. Pasok na kaya tayo? Mukha tayong eng-eng dito.”
Vicente stifles a laugh and goes inside, holding the door open for Joven. Small things. Joven signs up on the tracking list of the guard and gives up his id to the guard. Holding Joven’s wrist gently and suddenly, Vicente leads him to the elevator and taps his card of the scanner. It was quiet on the way up, but Vicente kept holding Joven’s wrist without the said person realizing.
While going out of the elevator, Vicente is still holding Joven’s wrist, leading him to his unit. Vicente only lets go when they are already inside. Joven’s wrist suddenly feels cold, so he touches it subconsciously. He is thrown off guard.
“L-let’s…” Joven clears his throat. “Let’s start?”
“Okay ka lang ba?” Vicente asks, “Gusto mo ng tubig?”
Joven shakes his head. “No. No, I’m fine. Thank you for the offer. Start na tayo. Where should we stay?”
Vicente looks around and points. “There’s a study table right there. Diyan na lang tayo.” Joven nods and walks towards it, getting the chair and sits on it gracefully.
“Prim and proper talaga.” Vicente chuckles softly, sitting next to Joven on the same chair. “Saan tayo magsisimula, tutor?” Wrapping an arm around Joven, Vicente moves closer looking at the notes, purposely making their faces near. It was obvious that Joven is getting flustered.
That’s Vicente’s goal.
The tutoring session starts off normal as to what happens in normal tutoring lessons. However, it does have some subtle touches. Fortunately for Vicente, Joven doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He decides to take it slow. It’s just the second day of the three month time limit after all.
There is no need to speed things up.
“That’s all for today, Enriquez.” Joven utters softly. “Did you understand anything, though?”
Vicente just nods. “You’re good at teaching.” It is true. Joven’s voice, when teaching, turns soft and gentle. It is like a mother reading a bedtime story. He can also explain things in a complex but understandable manner.
Joven’s cheeks softly reddens. “Oh… thank you.” He swallows the lump blocking his throat. “I should go now. My klase pa ako.” He stands up suddenly.
“Hatid na kita.” Vicente also stands up, putting his key card in his pocket.
“No need. I can do this.”
“I insist. Kailangan mo rin ako para roon sa guard.” Vicente pushes.
“Oh, right…” Joven nods. “Let’s go, then.”
They exit the condo unit with Vicente holding Joven’s wrist once again. He leads Joven to the ground floor and opens the door for him again once Joven gets his ID from the guard.
“Goodbye.” Joven speaks softly.
“Goodbye,” Vicente responds, “Ingat ka.”
And Joven is out of the door. Vicente smirks as he leaves. He feels a great sense of success as he goes back into his condo unit.
“1,500 pesos, here I come.” | 6c362e256f12405e9f7fbbfaa66bf7a5 | ['2445a96c435f4620b95db4f28014c71b'] | They wait until Joven was out of their line of sight, and then, they lean on each other and silently squeal, or shouted. “Ang cute niya!!! Nanggigigil ako!!!” They shouted at the same time, banging their head on the table. The other customers’ heads turn to them in shock and curiousity.
Vicente pouts. “Bakit siya ganoon? Para siyang teddy bear.”
“Oo nga.” Paco kisses Vicente’s lips. “Sarap angkinin, noh?”
Vicente nods with a pout still planted on his lips. “Paparating na siya, oh,” he says, pointing to Joven with his lips. Straightening (ha, straight. How ironic.) up his shirt, Vicente sits up right once again with Paco following suit.
Joven arrives with a smile. “Sabi nila five minutes pa raw ‘yung mga ulam, pero feeling ko naman ay mabilisan na ‘yon.” He sits down gingerly. “So, what’s up? Kuwento naman po kayo.” He purses his lips.
The couple looks at each other, then at Joven. “Anong gusto mong malaman?”
“Hmm… About schooll, I guess? Masaya ba or something? I don’t know.” Joven rests his chin on his arms and looked up at them.
“Masaya naman. Mababait ‘yung mga teachers tapos masaya kasama mga classmates.” Vicente smiles. “Oo nga pala. Ipakikilala ka namin sa mga kaibigan namin sa dismissal mamaya.”
“Nako. Feeling ko aampunin ka nila Remy at Fely.” Paco laughs. “Nakikita ko na ‘yung future.”
“H-ha…? Bakit naman po?” Joven tilts his head in confusion like a puppy.
“Malalaman mo rin sa tamang panahon, bata.” Vicente chuckles darkly, making Joven nervous. “Joke lang. Ito naman, takot agad. Mabait mga ‘yon.”
Paco laughs, his eyes wrinkling. “Mag-ingat ka lang kay Goyo. Maharot ‘yong si gago.”
“Lalayo ‘yon. Babayagan ko ‘yon kapag lumapit siya kay Joven. Bad influence.” Vicente cracks his knuckles jokingly.
“Pati si Julian!”
“Lalo na si Julian!”
Joven looks at the two curiously with a smile. “It looks like all of you are great friends. Excited na akong makita ang inyong mga kaibigan.”
Paco and Vicente grin at him. “Mag-eenjoy ka panigurado.”
The bell suddenly rings, breaking the three’s atmosphere. “Joven Hernando ho! Nandito na po order niyo!”
As Joven starts to stand up, Paco puts an arm up to make him sit and stands up. “Ako na, Joven. Ikaw na ‘yung nag-order kanina eh.” He walks towards the counter and fetches the food.
While Paco was gone, Vicente asks, “Ano nga pala ang inorder mo para sa’min?”
“Ah, pare-pareho pong sisig. Paborito ko po kasi ‘yon eh.” Joven smiles sheepishly while scratching his cheek. The smell of the said meal comes nearer and nearer to their table, making their heads turn to the smell. Paco is coming back with the meals like a formal waiter in a high-end restaurant. Doing this, it makes Joven and Vicente laugh.
“Good afternoon, sirs. Here are your meals.” Paco smiles charmingly as he puts down the plates. “Three sisig for three handsome men.” He winks.
Vicente cringes exaggeratingly. “Paco, mukha kang tanga. Umupo ka na nga.” He stiffles his laugh while Paco chuckles.
“Sungit naman ng customer na ‘to,” he jokes as he sits down.
“Kain na ho tayo.” Joven smiles softly. The couple settles down and softens up. They nod and starts eating.
By the time they are all done eating, they pay for the food and stand up. "Balik na tayo?"
Vicente asks, and Paco and Joven nod.
They walk back to their classroom and settle down as the teacher comes in to their room.
3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Cheers erupts from the students as the bell rings, signifying the end of the first day of senior high. Paco stretches and looks at Vicente and Joven. He stands up and walks over to their area.
“Joven, my gagawin ka ba pagkatapos?” Paco asks.
Joven hums. “Wala naman po. Bakit?”
“Balak kasi naming ipakilala ka sa mga kaibigan namin. Ayos lang ba sa’yo?” Vicente smiles as Joven smiles and nods. They stand up and look at one another. “Let’s go na? Baka naghihintay na ‘yung mga mokong.”
They exit the doors of their classroom and start to walk towards the gates of their school. Joven is positioned in between Paco and Vicente. Their arms are either linking with one another or wrapping around a shoulder. They are clingy, but nobody is minding it.
From afar, they can see a girl waving, more like flailing, her arms wildly around. “PACO!!! VICENTE!!! BILISAN NIYOOOO!!! ANG BAGAL NAMAN.” The girl shouts loudly. The people around her chuckle and laugh at her actions.
Joven tilts his head in curiosity. Are they the group of friends Paco and Vicente were talking about? They all seem so fun. Joven smiles.
“Hoy, Felicidad, mukha kang baliw diyan! Bawas-bawasan ang pag-inom,” Paco shouts back, laughing.
They arrive at the group’s position when “Felicidad” hits Paco hard on the nape. “Gago, anong baliw ka diyan? Tadiyakan kita, you want?” She threatens.
“Oh, babe. Kalma lang,” another girl says, massaging Felicidad’s shoulders while chuckling.
“I am calm, babe.” Felicidad kisses the girl’s lips. The two guys behind her are doing some faux vomiting actions and noises. Joven giggles at their antics. That is when they notice him.
“Oh! May bagong mukha akong nakikita.” Julian inputs in shock. “Mukha kang halaman diyan, ‘di gumagalaw.” He laughs. Paco hits his shoulder. “Aray!”
“Anyway,” Vicente starts, “Guys, this is Joven. The new transferee of the school.” He puts his arm around Joven’s shoulders.
Felicidad suddenly squeals, making Joven jolt in shock. “Hi!!! Hello! I am Felicidad Aguinaldo. Vice president ng student council. Hindi mo alam kung gaano ako kasaya na makakita ng bagong mukha. Sawang-sawa na ako sa mga pagmumukha ng mga ‘to.” She grins.
“Pati ba pagmumukha ko, mahal?” The other girl asks, making a pouting face.
“Of course not. Mukha mo lang maganda rito.”
“I take offence in that,” A guy commented.
“Nobody cares though.” Felicidad shrugs. |
676fb3dd09544db6b69f24d0799ad81d | ['244b1f2513214756960782c962566cb3'] | “Why don’t we get your blood pressure and start with a blood test,” Miranda said. She set down the tablet and walked over to the sink, washing her hand and pulling on a pair of gloves. “Can you put on Gideon’s medical bracelet, take off your jacket and hold out your arm?”
Sara did as she was told and put the medical bracelet on her wrist as Miranda pulled out the blood pressure monitor.
“What about your family history? Are there any history of birth defects or genetic diseases that I should be aware of?” Miranda asked, as she placed the blood pressure cuff around Sara’s arm.
“Other than alcoholism, one of my cousins had a cleft palate. It was fixed after they were born so I don't know much about it, ” Sara said as she watched Miranda.
“Okay, good to know,” Miranda said. ”It’s something we'll keep an eye on.”
“Is it genetic?” Sara asked, suddenly worried. She never thought about how it had occurred or that it could affect her baby.
“It can be, but there are a lot of factors that can cause those birth defects,” Miranda reassured her.
She finished measuring Sara’s blood pressure and removed the cuff.
“Gideon can you add that to Sara’s chart, blood pressure is 110/70.”
“Yes, Nurse Coburn.”
“What about you, Ava?” Miranda asked.
“What,” Ava asked, caught off guard.
“Do you know your genetic and medical history?”
Sara could see Ava blank at the question. What did they know? Sure, she had read the pamphlet of Ava’s genetic origin from the AVA Corporation, but that was mostly a bunch of marketing stuff. They had no idea what her true genetic makeup was. Ava looked around the room and pulled at the collar of her shirt.
“I.. I really don’t know,” Ava admitted. “Gideon, do you have a file for me?”
“I do have a medical file for all of the Avas, including you, beginning in November 2016.”
“My own little toddler,” Sara said affectionately.
“Speak for yourself, you’re not much older,” Ava said, crossing her arms.
“I am a full year older that counts for something,” Sara said, with a smile.
“But no genetic history?” Miranda asked, bringing them back to the conversation.
“No, Nurse Coburn.”
“Thank you, Gideon,” she said.
“Is that important?” Ava asked.
“Only if we find any genetic abnormalities in the upcoming months or if the pregnancy isn’t progressing as it should. We’ll see what the tests show today.” Miranda said.
“If I was gonna guess,” Sara said, taking her hand again, “I’d bet that you’re pretty healthy.”
Ava nodded, but didn't appear to be convinced.
Miranda walked over to one of the drawers and pulled out a gown, and a few other pieces of equipment.
“If you two are ready we can continue with exams, but Sara you’ll need to get undressed.” She said handing her the gown. “We’ll do some blood work and a urinalysis, then we’ll discuss things further. At the end, we’ll do an ultrasound.”
“Okay,” Sara said, as she took the gown.
Miranda pulled the curtain around them, giving them some privacy as Sara changed. Ava seemed distracted as she helped Sara change. She looked away from her as she reached down to help Sara step out of her jeans. Sara knew how much all this would affect Ava. After she put on the gown she reached up and cupped Ava’s face with her hands, pulling her in for a quick kiss that she knew would help Ava relax and focus on the moment.
* * *
“Alright, Sara you can relax and take your feet out of the stirrups,” Miranda said as she finished Sara’s internal exam and stripped off her gloves.
Sara removed her feet from the stirrups as Gideon put them away and moved the chair into an upright position.
“Everything looks and feels fine,’ Miranda said with a gentle smile.
It was then that Ava relaxed, as Sara folded down her gown and took Ava’s hand.
“Gideon, do you have the results from the blood tests and urinalysis for me?”
“I do Nurse Coburn,”
“Could you please display them on the tablet.”
Sara patted Ava’s hand as Ava squeezed hers too tight. Ava looked down at their entwined hands, realizing how tight she was holding her and loosened her grip.
“I’m relieved that everything is going well,” Miranda said as she looked over Sara’s results. “You are clear of any infections or STDs, you're up to date on your chicken pox, rubella, and hepatitis vaccine, which is always good because you can’t receive these vaccines while you’re pregnant. Your hormone levels are where they should be and you’re Rh-negative, so I would like to test Ava to see if she’s positive or negative.”
“Remind me what that is again,” Sara asked.
“It's a blood protein on the surface of your red blood cells. If you have it you’re Rh-positive, or if not you're Rh-negative. Since you’re Rh-negative, there's a possibility that Ava could be Rh-positive, pass it on to the fetus, and you could develop antibodies. If you choose to get pregnant again the antibodies would attack any future children you choose to carry,” Miranda said.
Miranda was always meticulous with her words, she tried to explain everything to them in simple terms. She was always that way, with clear words and a gentle disposition. Sara was grateful to have someone she trusted to care for her and that Miranda was willing to care for her on the Waverider rather than at her own practice.
“All right,” Ava said, taking off her suit jacket.
“If you’d like we could also get a genetic profile on you. I’m not too concerned about your history, but in case you would like to know.”
“I don’t know,” Ava said. | d07f0429f1f14fa6b07dd1c5444e2dcd | ['244b1f2513214756960782c962566cb3'] | “Of course, besides, it's not my secret.”
“Thank you.”
Nora looked at their hands. “Its energy is like yours.”
“Which means that this child is bound to be trouble,” Sara said, with a laugh at the thought of a little girl running around the Waverider getting into things she shouldn’t. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“Not yet, and I won’t check if you don’t want me to,” Nora said, with a certain softness she rarely displayed. Like Ray, she put up a mask, but where his was goofy kindness hers was a hard shell of sarcasm and anger. She chose to reveal herself more and more to them as she grew comfortable aboard the ship.
“Please don’t, at least not for now,” Sara said, inclined to the idea of a surprise, not that it would change anything in her mind.
Nora just nodded. “I think Ray is hoping to settle down sometime soon. I know he wants a family, and a house with a stupid white picket fence life.”
“What about you? What do you want?” Sara asked.
Nora looked down at their hands.
Sara took the jump ship key out of her pocket and with her other hand handed it to Nora. “Ava should be here in a moment to pick me up.”
A silent understanding passed between them, something Sara had grown used to. She could rely on Nora to communicate with her through a glance during a mission, and that carried over to their personal relationship. Although Nora was Ava’s best friend, they were Legends, which meant they were family.
Nora took the key and nodded her thanks. Sara could see the shift in her as she put up her walls again and pulled her hand back from Sara’s belly. She crossed her arms and let the vulnerability fall from her face.
“This means I can’t try and stop the rest of those idiots from making a mess of things while you're gone,” Nora said.
“I’ll tell them to take the week off and spend some time in Star City. Constantine can see his boyfriend, Mick can hit up the bars, and Zari can drag Charlie to that convention she keeps talking about," Sara said, thinking it would be better to have them separate than together. “They can’t blow up the world individually.”
Nora laughed. “Have you met them?”
Sara must have had a panicked look in her eye she didn’t mask, as Nora laughed harder.
“Don’t worry, Captain,” Gideon assured her. “I will be sure to keep an eye on the crew and stop them from doing anything terrible while you are away.”
“Thank you, Gideon.”
Nora’s laughter died down as Sara watched her walk away. Sara sighed and walked back to the bridge to tell the rest of her crew to take the week off.
* * *
Sara texted Ava to pick her up, knowing her girlfriend was eagerly waiting for her. Sure enough, the portal opened in front of her not two seconds after she sent the text and Ava stepped through. Sara could also feel her exhaustion seep in, she knew she’d need a nap when she got to Ava’s. Building a human was hard work.
“Hey,” Ava said, as she picked up Sara’s duffle bag, swinging it over her shoulder. “I’ve been researching some doctors. I found a few that I like and I think we should go over them and make an appointment for tomorrow.”
Sara nodded, thinking it over, but before she could reply they heard a portal open in the hallway behind them. Sara cursed whoever had come through, it looked like their week off had ended before it had begun.
“Hello,” Miranda said, stepping out. “Rip called and said you two might want some help with something.”
Or maybe not. Sara smiled at her, relieved to see a familiar face. After they had killed Vandal Savage they were able to save Miranda and Jonas, although they had to relocate to 2018.
“Miranda, you’re a midwife right?” Sara asked.
“That I am,” she replied. “But you both knew that.”
Confused, she glanced between them as Sara and Ava exchanged a look. “Is there something that I should know?”
* * *
“Okay, let’s start off with your cycle Sara. What was the day of your last period?” Miranda asked, as they walked into the med bay.
“November 1st,” Sara said as she followed her in.
“Right, and how long is your cycle?” Miranda asked, picking up a tablet from the drawer in between the seats and starting to take her notes.
“28 days. It’s like clockwork, which was why I knew something was off,” Sara said, sitting down in the chair on the right. She figured she would have to sooner or later.
Miranda nodded and continued to type, probably pulling up the medical records Gideon kept on her. Sara looked over at Ava, who stood awkwardly by the door, and held out her hand to coax Ava to her side.
“That puts you at five weeks today and due August 20th,” Miranda said, looking up at them. “Has your cycle been like this since you were resurrected?”
“Yes, before that it was kind of off. I was often late, and I didn’t get my period from around winter 2007 to around spring 2009 or something,” Sara said. Her memories of the Amazo were ever present and traumatic, leaving her unsure of some of the details, while others were crystal clear.
Miranda nodded and Ava took Sara’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Sara had never discussed her time on the Amazo in detail with Ava.
“Have you ever been pregnant before?”
Sara shook her head, “Nope.”
“Are you currently on any medications?”
“No.”
“Alright, for now, why don’t we base our assumptions off of your current medical history from the day you were a resurrected in November 2014. If it’s necessary though, we will defer to your whole medical history.”
“Sounds good.” |
4ac769f607cb4d3f851f50d82b9fe039 | ['244f0c27b5a142f0b8479aacc2757240'] | "OK," I tell her, and put the drink down on the nightstand. "Then we'll just have to find another way to make you relax."
Scully's eyes get really wide as I take off my leather jacket. I was wearing a black T-shirt under it, the sleeve just long enough to cover the join of the prosthesis. I choose the T-shirts to be a little tight, so the sleeves don't ride up and show the join to what's left of my arm.
Then I unlock the handcuffs where they hold her to the headboard. Her arms are all saggy and asleep from being above her head for so long, so she can't do much to fight me. I'm able to get her blazer off without much trouble. She starts fighting in earnest when I go to work on the buttons of her blouse, thrashing left and right to get away from me. I just rehook her cuffs above her head and to the headboard, more toward the middle of the bed this time.
"You know, Dana," I say as I settle her in place, propping her up a little on the pillows as I had before. "I didn't want to have to cut your clothes off, but I guess it's going to have to be that way, isn't it?"
"Why are you doing this, Krycek? What do you want?" she says. Her voice holds a mixture of emotions. Anger, frustration, fear, and a few I don't really understand. But I hear the sadness there, too. I know why she's upset. The only guy who's wanted to fuck her for five years is me.
I don't let it hurt me much. I'll make it worth her while. I know that much about myself. And she'd come away with a different opinion when I was through. No matter what she wanted.
I go to my bag and get out my knife.
Some guys prefer switchblades and some like a good old-fashioned Swiss Army, but I prefer a long-blade hunting knife. The kind you use for skinning deer. I don't know why. It just seems like a knife to me.
Anyway, I get it out and I see Scully's eyes go wide again.
I smile. But I'm not happy.
I go over to the bed and use the knife to cut through the sleeves of her white pseudo-silk blouse. Then I unbutton it the rest of the way and it's off in next to no time. She has on a white silk bra with underwires cut rather low on the top to make her look like she has more cleavage than she does. It's not like Scully really needs underwires for support or anything. She's really rather dainty. Small busted, like the rest of her, but the French say that anything bigger than what can fit in a champagne glass is too much, and I'd bet that Scully would be just about perfect by that measure.
She was watching me warily.
I hear a groan from the next bed over. Mulder is waking up. I go over and check his restraints. They're fine. So I have nothing to worry about.
I go back over to the other bed and unbutton the top of Scully's slacks. Then I undo the zipper to reveal that she isn't wearing nylons. Only navy blue silk panties to match the color of her slacks. Very Scully, underwear matching outerwear, everything perfectly coordinated. It's easy enough to get them off her hips and down to her bound feet, even with the bum arm. Scully's tiny and I can lift her easily enough. With her feet tied together I can keep her from kicking me and also lift her up enough to remove the slacks. I was planning to cut the panties off.
"Krycek, you really don't want to do this," Scully says, glancing over at Mulder like he was going to be able to stop me or something.
"Oh, yeah, Scully, I'm afraid I really do," I tell her and then go over to Mulder and take off his tie. That, along with the one from her trenchcoat will be enough to take care of her legs. I don't want to use rope, too uncomfortable her wrists are already chafing from the cuffs. I want her to enjoy this as much as I'm planning to. Or at least as much as she'll allow herself.
I fastened Mulder's tie to the leg of the bed and then tied a good slip knot in the other end. Scully knew what I was planning, I could see it in how wide her eyes had gotten. She swallowed hard.
"I also told you I wasn't planning to hurt you, and I mean that, too," I say, moving over, sitting on her shins and untying the knot in the belt around her ankles.
"Then what's all this about?" she continued, trying to keep me talking.
"I explained it a minute ago. I know you were listening," I tell her. "Do you want me to go over it again for Mulder?"
He was really starting to wake up. Probably from me moving him to take off his tie. I could hear him shuffling on the other bed and mumbling to himself.
"Why do you want to do this, Krycek? What have I ever done to you that you'd want to do this to me?" Scully asks. She still looked scared and hurt, too. She hated being helpless. She never allowed it, even with people she trusted, and I was the last on that list.
"Do what, Scully?" I ask giving her my best boyish innocent look. "Do you really know what I'm doing? Are you sure? Can you look inside my soul and see my true motivations?"
"And what could they be other than to hurt and humiliate me?" she asks. | c8eccc6768604f239c91c7fd6c6aa1aa | ['244f0c27b5a142f0b8479aacc2757240'] | She looked down at the busy crowd now beginning to pour out of the building and put itself into taxis, their excited chatter and the sounds of traffic coming up to mingle with the hum of the rest of the life around her. It was her city at play; her city to play in.
Catwoman ran to the side of the Opera House and leaped, flinging herself into the air and the end of her whip at the flagpole of the County Building, catching it easily and swinging herself up to the roof in one smooth motion, making her head feel all pleasantly swoony. She hadn't been this drunk in a while. It was fun. She'd have to get drunk more often and go out catting about. It made running around on the rooftops a little more challenging, her feet weren't quite so sure, and she loved a good challenge. And seeing she had nothing to use her skills on, a fake challenge would have to do. She picked a direction and set off.
Nothing she'd ever experienced could match the simple rush of a journey across the city, far above the streets. The exhilaration of leaping over the edge and finding her footing sure on a ledge or fire escape, the scamper up the drainpipe and the sprint across the rooftop were a million times better than sex. She always wondered why people used that as a comparison, probably because people who compared things to sex were stupid and had no real idea of fun. Nearly everything, in her wide and extensive personal experience, was better than sex. This rush, this life she'd chosen, was even better than chocolate.
She reveled in the sheer perfect physicality of a rooftop run. And it never got better than this. How she was in perfect control of her every movement, despite being three sheets to the wind, even down to the beating of her heart. How her feet met the roof just so, how her body swung through the air, how the wind felt caressing her face as it blew up 20 stories from the street below. It seemed almost better right now, she was so relaxed, so able to enjoy every nuance.
Then there was the skill required to subvert a state-of-the-art security system and the incredible thrill of emerging successful with whatever she'd set her sights on. Nothing she'd ever done could compare with the pure joy of exercising her skill and getting away clean. Nothing ever compared with winning.
She ran over the roof of the County Building, and swung up the Post Office drainpipe to the ledge of the boring and mostly featureless Federal office building next door. A quick run along the ledge and she was across an alley to the equally boring subsidiary of LuthorCorp beside that and then back to the lovely Art Deco shimmer of the stainless steel clad Mayes Building, a favorite of hers as it had a lot more places to hide and hang onto than it appeared to.
That was the beauty of Architecture. Architecture was not only prettier than simple building, it was much more useful; especially for someone like her. She hoped Mies Van der Rohe was rotting in a very special hell for designing all those hideous black glass boxes back down by the Gotham River, because there was virtually no purchase anywhere, cutting off a main highway through the city.
Swinging up on the fantastic gargoyles of the Maitland Building, she sent a prayer up for the Wayne Foundation and all the money it had thrown at getting the Maitland declared an historic landmark despite the fact that neo-Gothic was sadly out of fashion. She didn't think the Foundation had gone so far as to buy the Maitland, but it certainly had been instrumental in keeping the faade intact even though the inside had been turned into a vertical shopping mall and luxury apartments. She bet that Batman felt just the same way every time he swung off one of the Maitland's prolific spikes and spires.
The Maitland was the perfect stepping-stone to the Wayne Building beyond and from there to the very highest points in Gotham. She had gotten a hankering to look at the moon from the top of the Gotham Mutual tower. There was a gorgeous view of the riverfront and the more green and residential portions of the city, including the obscenely elaborate mansions of the Old Money families like the VanWerts, the Dustins and the Waynes. But despite how the thought of people having so much who had never earned anything annoyed her, she still liked looking at those beautiful relics of industrial robber barony. At least the villains of the past had had some taste and style.
As she came over the top of the Wayne Building, something very much out of place caught her eye, two buildings over, the horizon had changed. One of her favorite old brick chimneys was completely knocked over and lying on its side, all broken to pieces. Beyond she could see another place where the slightly raised facade of the building had been knocked off, causing an ugly gap. The water tower on the same building was standing crookedly with one leg broken into splinters. The other three were still supporting the weight, but it trembled on the edge of falling.
It was clear a moment later what exactly had happened to the building as Batman flew backward through the air and smacked hard into the air conditioning unit. It looked painful, and he was a little while getting up.
Well, that was by far more interesting than the river. She'd jump a couple of roofs to find out what it was that could throw Batman like a ragdoll across the length of a building. |
f6fe837ef87c4f6c9d0e1f10327727e6 | ['24742d660f6445aa9f3b110aa58ee0fe'] |
The Right Wrong Recipient
**Author's Note:**
> Lines starting with (Name:) indicate that's who sent the text in question
> Descriptions in between ** indicate a photo description
> I tentatively apologize in advance for the plethora of emoticons. I love them.
Deku’s phone vibrates, he unlocks it and checks his texts to find she’s raised the stakes yet again.
Uraraka: *picture of sultry, sweet smile taken from above to show just a smidge of cleavage*
He takes some time to think up a pose and takes a picture of his own.
Deku: *picture taken with no shirt, laying on his back with one arm stretched up behind his head to show off his muscles, an embarrassed smile and sweet blush across his cheeks*
Bakugo hears his phone vibrate, unlocks it and is speechless. What the fuck.
It’s a great picture, but why send it to him?!
Bakugo: *picture of his face with an eyebrow raised, clearly an expression depicting “what the fuck” with a shrug and furrowed brow. A light blush is streaked across his whole face.*
Deku hears his phone vibrate again and rushes to unlock it.
This is unreal, Bakugo never sends him texts.
Super unreal!
Bakugo never sends him picture texts!
He sure looks confused though, maybe a previous text gives context?
He scrolls up and realizes his mistake.
He sent the picture to the wrong contact.
The internal screaming in his head is at an immediate fever pitch.
As he panics he sends the picture properly to Uraraka.
This directs his emotions towards her again, and a small barrage of texts is quickly composed and sent off as well.
Deku: *sexy/ cute pic*
Deku: OHMYGOD. (╥_╥)
Deku: URARAKA.（ ＴДＴ）
Deku: I FUCKED UP. ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚
Deku: I ACCIDENTALLY SENT THAT PIC TO KACCHAN ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )
Deku: I will never be able to live this down, I can’t believe I messed up like that!
Deku: HOW CAN I LOOK HIM IN THE EYES AGAIN?!
The noise he hears as soon as sending the texts after the picture to her he can now discern as Uraraka’s laughter. She’s clearly audible from the entire other side of the dorms.
His friends are the worst.
What has he done to deserve this life?
Bakugo hears his phone vibrate again, and unlocks it to see what kind of explanation the nerd has.
He finds a similarly flustering photo of Uraraka, also without any text.
Steam nearly coming out of his ears, face burning with a blush, he sends her the same “The fuck?!” selfie he originally sent to Deku, and sends an actual text to the nerd.
Deku unlocks his phone, hoping to find some solace from his traitor of a best friend.
Bakugo: Seriously, you fucker, what the actual fuck?
Deku: Ohmygod. I’m so sorry, Kacchan! Uraraka sent me a picture, so I was just trying to send one of about the same type so we’d be even butIaccidentallysentittoyouandohgodpleasejustforgetthiseverhappened!!!
Bakugo: *the very same picture of Uraraka*
Bakugo: This one??
Deku: Actually, yes.
Deku: Where did you get that? Did she just send that now, or was that from some time earlier??? @_@
Bakugo: Yeah, just after I got the pic from you. What stupid shit are you trying to pull?! I’ll kill you dead!”
Uraraka finally hears her phone buzz again and with the greatest delight unlocks it.
Deku: While I appreciate the solidarity, I think sending that pic was a bad move.
Deku: Kacchan seems embarrassed now…
Deku: I don’t know what to make of this but I don’t think it bodes well for us.
Deku: Especially me.
Uraraka: K. Trust me on this.
Uraraka: Take an even sexier pic and send it to me for approval. If it’s good, you’re gonna send it to him afterwards.
Uraraka: I’ll send another sexier one at the same time too.
Deku: But why?
Deku: And do I get that one too?
Uraraka: I’ll bet you a dollar if we do it we’ll hear explosions/ yelling from his room
Uraraka: Also sure
~ A few minutes pass ~
Deku: You’re on
~ A few more minutes pass ~
Deku: *a pic taken from above of his whole upper body, bare from the waist up. He’s smiling shyly again, a little open-mouthed half-smile, and the button and part of the zipper of his pants are visible and undone*
Deku: Omg, idk if that was what you were thinking?? Should I do a different pose, or what should I do??
Uraraka: *pic of her biting her lip in a smug smirk, leaning towards the camera with an even lower neck top that makes it look like her cleavage is only /just/ not spilling out*
Uraraka: No, you’re totally on the same page as me I think. Send it!
Deku takes a minute to remember to breathe, then sends his picture to Bakugo. He hopes he continues to remember how it feels to breathe, but he’s not holding his breath for it.
Bakugo’s phone buzzes twice, one right after the other.
That fucking nerd had better not still be trying to explain himself.
Definitely not explaining himself.
What the hell?
Uraraka again too?
ALSO NO EXPLANATION
WHAT THE FUCK
1. When did they go from round-eyed, round-faced cry-baby kids to knowing how to be hot?!
2. WHY ARE THEY BEING HOT ON HIS PHONE?!?!
A confused scream can be heard outside, some birds are scared away from the dorm.
Uraraka cackles to herself until her cheeks hurt a little, then finds that she’s missed some notifications.
Deku: I haven’t gotten anything back from him….
Deku: Just hearing that scream makes me a little afraid to let my guard down though
Deku: Did you get anything back from him?
Deku: Ohmygod he didn’t go over there and that’s why you’re not answering, RIGHT?!
Deku: I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if that was the case. Have you seen his shoulders? | 03bf555303ac43818b7e9fc944eccd89 | ['24742d660f6445aa9f3b110aa58ee0fe'] | “I can’t believe you two never told me this was a group activity! Why would you leave me out?! I am so insulted right now. The cultures that I’ve heard practice this kind of thing say it is such good bonding for teams! We could be a much a tighter unit after this! You guys, we are gonna beat those blues breathless with our amazing teamwork now! Good thinking, you two!”
He’d been rambling, so they missed part of it, but with this much they got the gist of what he was getting at. This could not be happening right now.
“This isn’t a group bonding activity! This isn’t a group activity at all! This is a private moment! Get out of here, Donut!” Simmons screeched at him, mind still reeling. He struggled to wrap his head around the increasingly bizarre situation.
“Aren’t you supposed to be spying on the blues right now instead of harassing your obviously preoccupied teammates?! What the fuck, Donut?! Go fucking find Sarge, like ten minutes ago! Scram!” Grif could always be trusted to get to the important points when it really mattered. They needed to get this kid out of here, immediately. The mood was slipping through their fingers like dry sand through a clenched fist and this was a prime opportunity about to be fully wasted. This is not acceptable.
Donut blinked, shell shocked, but opened his mouth to start explaining that he had already been to the blue base and come back to try to find something else useful to do after finding out that there was nothing special in the blue’s drop, but another shocking development sprang into action before he could get the words out. Grif could only be a man of action when his personal interest was fully in it, and this was one of those moments. Partially flaccid cocks and dignity forgotten, Grif stormed forward, inspiring Simmons to follow suit, they each grabbed an arm and dragged Donut bodily from the room and slammed the door behind him.
He could hear something heavy shoved up against it. He harrumphed, because obviously their teamwork was pretty good in that moment, and he really had to be missing something. If it wasn’t a team activity, and they didn’t want him there it was, oh. Oh! How could he have missed it? He had such a good sense about these things normally, how did their relationship just go over his head like that? He’d even heard Tucker say something about it once, and it still just rolled off of him without sinking in or making any sense. He was still so taken aback and lost in his head he almost didn’t notice that he’d wandered away from base and nearly ran right into Sarge. His C.O. noticed his dazed state and guessed what must have happened right away.
“I told you to report back to me before heading back to the base for a reason, kiddo. I had hoped to avoid you finding out this way, or at all really. Sorry, Rookie. Come on, sit down with me near the tree over here in the shade. Just try to forget about what you saw or heard, just let them be and they’ll be a lot easier to be around. Trust me, son. I’m gonna just drop off for a short kip here, and I suggest you do the same.” Sarge led him to a nearby tree, sat down easily, and looked to be nodding off inside his suit.
He also hadn’t expected Sarge to react that way to such a thing. He had deeply miscalculated a lot about his new team. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad tour of duty after all. He’d just have to pay a lot better attention to everybody’s interactions later on, and think of a really good apology. They would definitely want to talk about it once they were in a decent state again, he was sure of it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I really hope you guys liked it! I've thought about writing something for once they actually get past their mental thing and they actually do touch each other for the first time, but I really liked the idea of ending things this way. If this is the worst ending and whatnot, just lemme know in the sweetest way possible and I may consider adding some other scenes. OR if it should be a different fic, I could maybe write a follow up, sequel-type thing. Thanks for reading!! You are beautiful people, truly.
>
> ALSO this didn't get read by a second person the way the others did, so if my editing leaves something to be desired, send me a message and I would be more than glad to fix it ASAP. Thank you!! <3 |
d8ab5a0b9de64ca2be27c6a041cb1fe2 | ['2476f3e28611476aa48e530269abdc22'] | So the duo walked through the newly renovated and restored butterfly castle until they reached the tapestry room. (All the damages to the tapestries had been repaired with magic so they look good as new)
Comet sat down in the center of the rotunda surrounded by the eyes of his predecessors** and tried and tried again to get the spell to work. Nothing happened over and over again. This left the young prince feeling useless, as after he defeated Mina he couldn't even cast even the simplest of spells.
As he knelt on his hands and knees crying.
"Grandmother Comet please help," he cried, "m-my magic is refusing to work, please" he plead to the tapestry of his ancestors who look back with vacant stares. Then as he sat there, he had an idea, took his wand in hand, and pointed it at his grandmother's tapestry.
With a deep breath he began to sob" I feel so useless. Please, i am in a really bad place with my mom and sister. I have been forced far from the only place I’ve ever called home. I’m in way over my head and I feel like i am drowning in all my new responsibilities. I’m scared, confused and unsure of myself. I need some help. Please.” As the young finished his plea his cheeks began to glow so brightly he thought he would go blind. As the light filled the room the tapestries of those queens who had already died glowed as well and then the most peculiar thing happened. The ghosts of the queens stepped out of their tapestries and walked to TK.
“Gr-gr-grandma?” This was all prince Comet could sputter before fainting.
4. Something old returns
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> After summoning the ghosts of his ancestors, Prince Comet must figure out his next big move; how to tell his family
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry that it took so long for me to upload. Depression and stress of college kinda killed my writing mojo
“Well, That could have gone better,” sighed Dirhhennia.
“True,sis” agreed Crescenta as she knelt down to look at the young prince, “This poor boy. He tries sooooo hard, but he couldn’t make anything happen.”
“My poor grandbaby,” cooed Comet, “He has been through so much in such a short amount of time.” as she tried to put her hand on her hand on her grandson’s head but it just went through his head.
Her hand going through his head woke TK up with a start.
“Whut’s goin on?” TK sleepily asked as his eyes fluttered open. His eyes shot open when he realized he was surrounded by familiar faces.
“What AHHHHHHHH,” he shouted, “are you m-my g-g-grandmother, Queen Comet Butterfly?”
“Are you my little Moon’s son?” asked the apparition.
“Apparently,” he said with a chuckle. This comment left the ghosts puzzled.
“What are you talking about?” Crescenta asked as worried expressions formed on all the spectors.
“Well,” TK said sheepishly, “ I was taken when I was a little kid.”
“You poor thing,” Comet had cooed and tried to hug her grandson, and failed.
“Grandmother, you’re not going to be able to hug me.” he chuckled as he and the ghosts started to laugh.
Then the door started to creak open and Star started to walk in with a tray of cut fruit. “Hey bro, a maid said that you were in the grandma roo- OH MY GOSH” she exclaimed as she dropped the tray crashed to the ground and the fruit scattered across the floor.
“G-g-gu-grandma?” Star sputtered before fainting as well, causing a cascade of laughter.
“These two are definitely a Butterfly,” laughed Estrella,“because we are all fainters.”
“I’m not.” Solaria stated proudly.
“You fainted after giving birth to Eclipsa.” Jushtin stated, “And not from the pain, she fainted when we handed the little ball of chub to her, Eclipsa cried and boom, Sola here was out like a light.”
“Jush! That is totally not what happened!” Solaria exclaimed indignantly.
“Now children, behave,” Skywynne scolded her son and daughter. “But Solaria, don’t deny that you fainted, there is nothing wrong with that. I fainted when your brother and you were born.”
“Whut’s goin on?” Star muttered sleepily and this caused everyone to laugh.
“OH MAH GOSH BRO D-D-D-DID YOU JUST-” Star began to sputter when her brother cut her off.
“Yes. Oh i just had an idea, but it will take everyone’s cooperation.” TK said as he started grinning giddily.
“This is operation ‘Best Gift Ever’. Basically everyone who is a ghost hides behind their respective tapestries and wait until Star and I bring everyone else in here. Then once everyone is in here I will say I have a surprise and tell everyone to close their eyes and once they do you all pop out and i say tada and everyone is happy” He ranted.
“Any questions?”
“Where is my daughter?” Solaria asked.
“She will be here soon,” Star replied, “it’s complicated.”
“Is everyone ready?” the young prince asked with an excited grin. | 153fac6911184de6a6079af9a34d10d6 | ['2476f3e28611476aa48e530269abdc22'] | It took him a solid ten minutes to find a servant but they just tried to politely leave as soon as he tried to approach, with a nervous expression on their faces. Finally after getting sick of people running away from him so next time he saw a servant he rushed towards stop.
“Please stop,” TK panted, “ I..need..directions. I have no idea how to get to my friend Davis or my family. I just want some breakfast.”
“Yes your highness,” the servant replied meekly and guided him to the dining hall.
“Oh Comet! I’m so glad you’re here!” Moon chirped but then her expression turned serious, “We need to talk.” She gestured to an empty chair.
“Okay. But can it wait. I'm famished.” Comet replied.
“Hi famished I’m dad.” River interjected, causing Comet to groan but still crack a little smile.
“UGH.” Star groaned along with her little brother.
“Dads, am i right?” Comet laughed.
“Yeah.” Star replied seeming distracted.
‘What’s wrong sis?” Comet said noticing how distant Star seemed. It wasn’t even just emotionally or mentally, his whole family was sitting as far as possible from him.
“Uh, let’s eat before the food gets cold” River said noticing the uncomfortable silence looming over his family”
They ate in complete silence, no one dared to say a word. After the food was eaten and the dishes cleared Moon finally found the words that needed to be said.
“Comet, as much as it pains me to do this.”She took a deep breath in,”You will have to stand trial for the death of Mina Loveberry.”
“WHAT” Comet screamed, shocked that she is actually putting him on trial after what she and her sister were going to do.
“I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO TO SAVE THOSE I LOVE” He bellowed at his biological family.
“What's all the yelling about” Eclipsa asked as she walked into the dining room carrying a sleepy Meteora with Globgor following her.
“They” Comet hissed as he jabbed his fingers towards his mother and father, “want to put me on trial for murdering Mina Loveberry.”
“Moon, is this really necessary?” Globgor asked with a sigh.
“It's simply to quell any upset amongst our people.” Moon said with a tone that said that her mind was made up. “Besides, you did commit murder.”
After his shock subsided he gathered himself and asked “If you guys destroyed magic do you think you should be prosecuted for genocide of all magical beings?” Comet sneered, leaving the whole room silent.
“Well it was our only option to stop Mina. We were unaware of this world of technology and magic. It was for the-” Moon tried to explain but was cut off by a laugh from her son. This laugh was not one of joy. It lacked any mirth, it was cold and mocking.
“The greater good? Don't give me that crap. The end doesn't always justify the means.” Comet said glaring, “Ignorance is not justification for not thinking of the consequences of your actions.”
“Even in the unlikely event of you being found guilty, you will only get a light slap on the wrist.” River explained.
“Fine,” Comet sighed, “let's get this over with.”
“It'll take a few days to set up,” Moon explained,”but in the meantime what do you want to do?”
“See my friends and family.” Comet said “I missed my Mom and Dad.”
“But Mom and Dad are right here” Star said while pointing at their parents.
“No, they are my mother and father,” Comet explained, “the positions of mom and dad are already filled by my adoptive family.”
Upon seeing the hurt expression on his birth parents’ faces he continued quickly “ But I'm still happy to see you guys and be reunited with my birth family.”
“Of course you miss those who raised you, sweetie” Eclipsa said as she gave him a hug with one arm and held Meteora in the other.
“Comma” Meteora squeaked and hugged him.
“Thanks Meteora, thanks great-great- great-great-great-great- great-great grandma Eclipsa.”
“Don’t forget me.” Globgor said as he pulled the young prince into a bear hug. After he put Comet down he continued, “ Hey. things are going to get easier once you get used to Mewni. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Yeah,” Comet said, “I sure hope so.”
3. Desperation and longing
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> With his magic has been sputtering and his need for guidance growing Prince Comet turns to the past
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the long wait and short chapter. College is really rough this quarter.
Comet let out a long sigh as he looked out his window and saw a grandmother and her grandson playing at a nearby park.
"I wish I had a grandma to spend time with," Comet thought to himself.
"Oh wait," he exclaimed as he shot up from his chair and ran to his desk where the book of spells lay.
"It's a good thing that grandma Skywyne's chapter is the first chapter," Comet chuckled to himself as he glanced to Glossaryck. He was out cold in a miniature bed made for him, his face and beard were coated in chocolate pudding.
After hours and hours of failure in summoning the ghost of his grandmother Comet let out a long sigh and let his head hit the desk with the thwump. The sound woke the little blue man from his slumber.
"What's up kiddo? You look almost as blue as me, and that's saying something," he said chuckling at his own joke.
"I'm trying to cast a spell from Skywyne's chapter, but," the young prince let out a frustrated sigh," no matter what I do or try, it won't work."
"Hmm." Glossaryck said as he stroked his beard. "Tell you what, grab the book and let's go to the hall of queens." |
e766a81e6d844ceeadbe4bb3e9d216af | ['247c0fc530fe42c3af8215cae8713156'] | "So you'll tell me, you'll tell me right now. Something has been at you and you will tell me. Because I'm your friend. I care about you. I want to help you."
He's calmed now. His breathing is still heavy and his lips are held firmly together. But he is calm.
What am I supposed to say? What could possibly explain this. Will I be forced to spill out my chest cavities?
"Go on!" John tells me. He will be relentless if I don't.
"I…"
Think, Sherlock! You're a bloody genius for God's sake.
My hands are fists, I'm going to bite my tongue so hard that it will bleed. I don't think I've ever been so frightened. Except for perhaps when that American held a gun to John's head. But John has held a gun to his head himself.
And then I know what I have to do.
"Mary told me. What you almost did."
At first he's confused. He crosses his arms across his chest. Shakes his head.
"What'd you mean?"
"She told me you nearly took your own life. It hurt. I couldn't get the image out of my head. So I injected. Are we done now?" I say.
He's very upset.
"I can't believe she told you that. When did she tell you that?" He's speaking very fast. So hurt. I've hurt him numerous times. Now Mary, too.
"When you went to use the bathroom."
Mary will be angry with me, but she will understand. John is angry at himself. He must feel betrayed.
"You were never supposed to know that."
"I know. But now I do. And, John. You must promise me you will never do anything like that. I'm not worth that."
I am still afraid. I fear something will slip.
"But you are," John says.
I can't believe this. We have nothing left to say at the moment.
All that lies between us is regrettable truths we never wanted to share with the other. Mine still locked. His forced out. It's uneven. But still, I won't say.
I shake my head at him. No, John. I'm most certainly not. I don't want to run away again. But I fear I will.
"Oh, John," I say. I shake my head again. I can see what Mary means. He romanticizes me. But he can't possibly love me. Not the way I love him. And I don't even believe I'll be able to love him correctly.
I want to hold him.
John steps towards me. He's braver than I. He breaks the distance, and hugs me.
"Don't do it again, please," he says softly.
"I won't," I promise. But promises are made to be broken. Just like my mechanical heart.
7. Chapter 7
John had a date with Mary the next night. I knew it wouldn't go well.
It didn't.
While John was out I got message after message from Mary.
**I was trying to help you, and you tell on me. I suppose John was right, no one can compete with your massive intellect.**
I no longer had the energy to respond. I was too busy thinking.
Bloody Mycroft.
_Hasn't this gone on long enough?_
Yes, thank you for your input. It has gone on long enough. Over five years is quite long enough to discover how crushingly in love you are with someone. I had hoped it was only infatuation. Infatuation because John was the single soul to understand me. But after months of research, the conclusion remained clear: I had somehow fallen in love.
I wish at least I regretted it.
John returned home from his date frustrated. I saw it from the second he walked in the flat. He was frustrated because although Mary betrayed him, he was still quite fond of her. I wouldn't say love yet (though Mary's love for him is ubiquitous) but his affection for her is prominent.
I can see John is tired as well. Bags under his eyes. He didn't sleep because I'd worried him so. Such as it is. I pick up my violin and begin to strum.
"Didn't go well, did it?" I ask. John shakes his head.
"Correct again."
He pinches the bridge between his nose and sighs. He then rests his head on the back of the sofa and closes his eyes. His smiles slightly.
"Don't stop playing," he says softly. He doesn't see me but I smile.
Of course I'll play for you, John.
I watch him as his breathing slows and he relaxes. He keeps that smile up. My playing pleases him. I sit down on the sofa next to him and continue playing.
He reaches out, eyes still closed, and rests his hand on my knee. He pats me a few times, but his hand stays there.
I do not cease playing. He seems so delicate now, fragile.
Slowly, he slips into sleep. His breathing is slow and rhythmic. I stop playing.
Certain he is asleep, I kneel in front of him, bow and violin still in hand.
There are small flecks of grey in his blond hair. The bags under his eyes worry me. I'm so close I can feel his small breaths on my face. I know I should move. I'm overwhelmed suddenly. I've never studied him so closely before without him staring back at me. I wonder how he would feel, knowing I was this close. I reach out. So very gently, my knuckles graze his cheek. I shut my eyes. Oh, John. I don't want you to leave me, ever. I remove my hand. I don't want to wake him. You're going to fall in love with her. And she loves you. | 0819e5b9fdc841c1b8f470dbd7fdeb08 | ['247c0fc530fe42c3af8215cae8713156'] | You're talking to yourself now more than you're talking to me. You lace your fingers with mine. Perhaps there is more to this than chemicals. Perhaps my calculations were wrong.
"What will you tell Mary?" I ask.
"The truth, there is nothing else to tell."
You kiss my cheek.
"I will not let you go now, I hope you know that."
"Good."
/
John left to go to Mary's house for the last time. He took the ring with him. I do feel for her, I wish her all the happiness in the world. She was smarter than the two of us combined. I hope she will not resent me, but somehow I already know she won't. She's too kind, too forgiving, too clever. Without her, I'd be destined to never know this true and final joy. For that, I'll never forget her.
/
John walks through the door, he is tired.
"How did it go?" I ask.
"As well as it could have gone. But, she understood so well. There wasn't much explaining to do, since she already knew everything."
I nod. He still cared for her, regardless of his feelings for me.
"Will you miss her?" I ask.
"Well…I suppose I will. But, it'll be nothing. I went through three years of thinking you were dead. I won't miss Mary even an ounce of that. And it doesn't really matter anyway. I've got you."
John turns and looks at me, gives me a smile. Then he comes towards me and leaves a kiss on my lips. It was all so stupid, this waiting, avoiding, stepping on eggshells when the eggshells didn't even exist. I didn't think I could ever be this happy. But I am.
13. Chapter 13
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> There it is again: bliss.
"Do you think we could chat, Sherlock Holmes?"
Mary. I could see her pink lips moving as she formed the words around her teeth.
"Of course," I reply. Is this what it is to be nervous? I haven't felt that in a long time. And it's from a woman, which has a sort of irony to it.
"Alright, same place as last time, in about an hour?"
Her voice was low, tired, exhausted. Probably from emotional damage. Pang on the left side of my chest, I do care about Mary Morstan. She's brought me so much, there is no way around it.
"Lovely," I say, and then her end of the line goes dead.
/
I get out of the cab and walk into The Mayflower, and there she is. Those blond hairs falling across her forehead. Her legs crossed, just sitting at the bar. She's ordered a glass of wine. Of course she has. She sees me and fakes a smile.
I sit down next to her, and she takes my hand in hers.
"He's told me everything. You just couldn't believe me, could you?"
"You have proved to be far more clever than me in a few aspects Mary. I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done."
She really does smile this time, gives my hand a little squeeze, and then turns. She sighs.
"I just wanted him to be happy. And I can already see it, he's far happier with you, and it's only been a few days. It's…beautiful. So, thank you."
She pinches the bridge between her nose. I fear she may cry, but she doesn't.
"I'm so very sorry, Mary."
She looks me straight in the eyes. She shakes her head.
"Don't you dare be sorry. You've got nothing to be sorry for. Don't ever be sorry that you are loved and are loved in return. Please, just…love him for me."
Oh, Mary.
/
I am on my bed, rubbing my eyes with sleep. I hear a knock on the door: John.
"Come in," I say.
His face is warm, the blue eyes calming. He sits next to me, and puts his head on my shoulders.
"Oh, wow. I was truly thinking things would never be this way. I can't believe it actually." He shuts his eyes and curls an arm around my waist. I close my eyes too. It's unbelievable to me too. But it's happening. The heat from his body is comforting and I force myself to mentally memorize the moment.
"God, it really is real…" I whisper. John had been correct. I had thought I wouldn't deserve love. I still don't see how anyone could love me. I'm all sharp edges and there's nowhere to rest. In order to love me you'd have to be the most patient person in the world. The most understanding. And first and foremost the most warm and accepting friend.
John is all these things.
Not once has he complained about my experiments at four o'clock in the morning. After getting used to body parts in the fridge he stopped trying to stop me. After he understood my lack of emotion he took it upon himself to speak for me. He corrects me when I'm rude to others. Things I don't give a damn about, he takes care of. He's the other half that I so desperately needed, but only he could have completed this body. I have never encountered another being to take care of me the way he does. Most just look on in disgust, or get too frustrated and walk away. Most just want something from me. The only thing John wants from me is my love. That perfect chemical balance.
Look what you've turned me into John; such a sentimental thing.
"I love you," I say quietly. His other hand finds mine and he locks our fingers. |
5ae254a0061847829a7a86b58a88299f | ['2497caae4cd8450782735fe858aa6844'] | He was glad. The sun’s heat was pleasant against him face. Today wasn’t too hot. The wind cooled him down and whisked by his ears. He was alive. And his son wasn’t alone in the world.
“W-What?” Kakashi crouched down with his palms facing the sky, “we have to go back!”
“It’s too late for that. They’ll notice my absence by now.” Sakumo wondered how Madara was going to take it.
Would he sent Anbu to kill him and his son? Surely, not. His done far worse before Kakashi was born and was excused by the Uchiha. Sakumo in return has voluntarily kept Madara’s secrets.
He was one of the top soldiers of his village, recruited in anbu at 11 years old an excelling in little over a year. He quickly moved up to becoming captain by the age of 13.
Sakumo’s smile lifted on one side of his face, away from his son’s view. He has killed his own men for the sake of a successful mission without any hesitation or an ounce of regret. He still slept soundly each night. Anbu was aware of this, would they still dare to come after him? Sakumo held up his hand and without any effort white chakra glowed brightly to the point where he couldn’t see the inner surface of his hand. Without performing any signs a white tanto took shape, stretching and solidifying. He threw it up high in the sky and caught it by the handle before stabbing it sharply on the concrete rock.
He has warned the Uchiha not to be reckless or impatient. But, by the looks of it he has rushed the date of the re-sealment of the Demon Fox. And, that was his fault.
Sakumo shrugged nonchalantly. He had also forewarned Madara, constantly, of leaving the village if things were to be moved in such a hasty manner. He was not about to put his son in an outright demise.
Sakumo gripped the sword purposely letting it transform into his intangible white chakra and letting it disappear within the source of his hand, like a vacuum. Sakumo glanced sideways to check on his son, and he felt his face tint ever so slightly as his son eyes were glued onto him. The awed look in his widened eyes made his look extremely adorable.
Sakumo opened his arm and Kakashi jumped excitedly as he threw himself on his side. His clothes had dried long ago.
_Like a puppy_. He chuckled, gently ruffling his son’s soft baby hair.
5. A Love like No Other
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Precious father. Precious son.
>
> Precious Boys~
Sakumo and Kakashi made their way to the Lighting Country, it was a small village, but nicely hidden from view just like the Village Hidden in the Mist except there wasn’t as much rain as outsiders perceived it to be.
“The Village hidden in the Mist is near Lighting? We could visit there, too. Right? We could move there later,” Kakashi maintained his pace alongside his father’s.
“Yes, their neighbors and allies. We could visit after we are screened and accepted.” Sakumo smiled as his son was striding beside him. They skipped trees and ran freely at top speed.
“I’m not too sure about moving there, it always rains and the humidity…” Sakumo couldn’t keep his silver eye’s from his son for too long, the pure relishing joy on his son’s face almost made his heart weep.
_Such a beautiful boy. My golden boy, no, my little boy. Baby boy?_ Sakumo smiled widely, he made a mental note to buy a camera as soon as they settled into their new home. Perhaps, he should get one for Kakashi as well, and they could take pictures of dogs and the sort.
Sakumo stomach growled, but he ignored it. The fatigue was there, but not as persistent as the night before. It felt nice, even, to run on an empty stomach. Not that he was unfamiliar with running long distances, missing out on sleep, or going a few days without eating.
At the pace his son and him were going he estimated that they would reach a small town soon. He could wait until then for food, a shower, and sleep.
They were about to reach two hours when they came to a halt a few miles away from a path of dirty. It showed visible signs of traffic. An obvious indicator that they were near a community.
Kakashi panted short breaths and puffed out his tiny rib cage. A yawn escaped him as his back slumped slightly. His dozy, coal-silver eyes fluttered.
“Want me to carry you?” Sakumo offered keeping his hands to his sides even though he wanted to hold one up to his heart and aww out loud.
“No, we’re almost there,” Kakashi straightened up and glared determinately. Two small fists clenched below his chin as he nodded at their close destination. “I want to eat, too. Oh, and take a shower.”
The two of them walked, neither without a sense of desperate urgency. A comfortable silence fell naturally between them. They took in their surroundings. The sights weren’t spectacular, but it was still nice.
Tall trees loomed over them until they didn’t. Small stores, food stands, and a few hotels came into view.
“I want eggplant and miso soup!” Kakashi giggled as he tugged at his father’s sleeve.
Sakumo said nothing, instead he smiled and nodded.
After replenishing their bellies with refreshments and different heaps of food, they left to compare prices for a room for the night.
“Not this one dad, it looks like a worn down shack,” Kakashi shook his head disapprovingly.
“Ah, careful. That shack might be someone’s home,” Sakumo eyed his son face’s. Kakashi’s mouth might have been hidden, but Sakumo knew a small O was formed underneath.
“We can’t spend carelessly, dad. We need to be responsible,” his finger circled in the air. | fb402a550d0b42c9bf1bf60ffb3464bb | ['2497caae4cd8450782735fe858aa6844'] | Sakura squinted her eyes in disbelief, “who the hell sleeps in a bar?”
Asuma closed his eyes and smiled knowingly, “Wake him and have him take you home, I’ll take care of Choji.”
“Yes, sir. Or should I say Asuma-Sensei.” Ino placed a hand on her hip and slanted onwards, “Hey, Sakura, I bet you’re acting skills are SO mediocre you can’t pull off pretending to date Kakashi. Oh, sorry, was it Kaka-Sensei? If you do,” she paused importantly, “I’ll cut my bangs just above my eyes. Or more.”
Asuma sighed, rolling his shoulders and the unlit cigarette in his mouth, preparing to carry Choji was no easy feat, “Ino, stop talking.”
Inner Sakura was jumping in victory, “Will you let me cut them?”
“Only if you have the balls, chestless,” Ino’s single, visible, blue-eye scanned intensely through Sakura’s chest. She gave Sakura a pitiful look and shook her head.
Sakura hugged her chest from Ino’s glassy eye, “You’ll be sorry, Ino, because I will do it and I will cut your bangs. I’ll take anyone who tries to stop me.”
Ino feigned a shiver and rubbed her arms, “Oooh, I’m sooo scared.”
Genma was clearly enjoying himself, his eyes were practically eating Ino’s figure. He was smirking appreciatively.
Kurenai looked on with mild interest, Yamato smiled nervously as he mixed his drink with his shapeshift finger.
Gai was dozing off while chanting, “The power of youth! Youth, youth, youth!” banging an empty glass against the table.
Kakashi’s slouch was the same except he looked like he zoned to Icha Icha dreamland.
Sakura glared at Kakashi. She breathed in deeply trying to contain her emotions in check, but she needed to have Kakashi’s okay. “Kakashi-Sensei! Kaka-sensei!”
Ino guffawed soundlessly and Sakura was itching to throw her full drink at her face, “Kakashi!”
Sakura flicked her finger against the metal plate of his headband.
“Hmm?” Kakashi crinkled his eye unapologetically, and lolled on purpose.
“How can you be so unaware of what’s happening?”
Oh, he was aware. He simply didn’t know what to do with himself.
“So, um, can we pretend for awhile?” Sakura clasped her hands together pleadingly as if a one in a million opportunity presented itself.
“Anything for my favorite student,” he chuckled and visually threw daggers in Genma’s way, who was smirking pervertedly. Genma’s mouth formed an “oooh” and mimicked Ino, he rubbed his shoulders and shivered vigorously. He stopped then and mocked noiselessly, “Anything for my favorite student” while he raised his senbon and an eyebrow.
Sakura did a small dance in her head, without so much as a warning she threw herself at Kakashi, who jumped high in his seat at the tight embrace, flailing his arms and settling as casual and quickly as possible. His chest almost opened like a door for his poor heart to flee away.
Yamato coughed his drink without closing his eyes, which made him look a little insane and purple.
Sakura stuck out her tongue at Ino and held out a peace sign. This wasn’t too hard. It felt like the most normal thing in the world. Oh, was she going to win and snip a little too much for Ino’s liking. She pinched her lips together trapping an explosive, triumphant laugh.
“Sakura!” hearing the voice of Tsunade made her jump out of her skin. She meant to take a seat next to Kakashi, but fell more into his lap. She tried to wiggle or slide, but Kakashi held her firmly in place, his jaw clenched shut. A nervous shudder ran up his spine in panic. A creeping pleasure made him pray for his life.
Everyone’s head turned, wide eyed and afraid for Sakura and Kakashi.
Ino and Genma were both clutching their own bellies. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.
Sweet, free, entertainment.
“Explain,” Tsunade looked ready to take action, which made Sakura stammer in a high pitch voice, “We are dating, Tsunade-Sama.”
Tsunade blinked once, twice, “Since when?”
Sakura gulped loudly, “Today.”
In a calmer state she would have sat modestly away from Kakashi, but her mind wasn’t working. Instead she hugged Kakashi’s arm for proof of their newly discovered relationship. Maybe it was to ease her nerves, which were all over the place. She could always blurt out the truth, she was excellent at rambling for miles a second when she was petrified, especially in Tsunade’s presence.
Tsunade stared at the absurdly close proximity of her pupil and the silver haired brat, “Today?”
Sakura buried the side of her face against Kakashi’s muscled arm, not daring to blink. She nodded energetically.
“Hatake you watch your hands or you’ll catch mine. Other than that I think you are well suited for each other, you’ll make prodigious children. I'm sure.”
Tsunade rested an angry look at Kakashi. All kinds of promises and warnings flashing through her golden amber eyes. “It was about time Sakura, and above all, you. You overdue brat. Good, good, carry on,” she captured Kakashi’s sole eye one last time and held it as she mastered a final deadly expression. Before leaving them she barked, “don’t bother me. I’m here to drink!”
Kakashi didn’t realize his hand had ran to find shelter in Sakura’s thigh. His palm pressed hard on the inside of her leg, “I guess we are dating now.” His soul was about to give out when he finally processed that he was miraculously in the clear, he slowly removed it, hoping Sakura wouldn’t come to her senses just yet and beat him senseless.
If Kakashi had left his warm, and strangely possessive hand on her leg, or that’s how it felt to her, Sakura wouldn’t have minded to have it exactly where it was. So she could memorize the heat and weighty feel of his hand for an hour or so, “We could stage our breakup?” she looked at him, some healthy color was returning to her face. |
efa15a51b8e2498ea0183bc3afffda4b | ['24b20d733f794fe08048869f5e9bdf85'] | Cook knows the answer to that last question. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and tries not to think about David, but it's to no avail. Even after such a long time, his memory has a perfect image of the boy (the smile that outshines the sun, the quiet eyes that know more than they tell, the contagious laughter that always brings a matching grin to Cook's face, the sheer _vivaciousness_ that radiates from him).
He's pulled away from his thoughts when he hears the front door slam and Andy's voice call out, "Honey, I'm home!" He smirks to himself and is about to answer them when Andy and Neal stride into the living room (to be truthful, Andy strides and Neal swaggers).
When he sees them, Cook's grin widens. "Welcome back, snookums." Neal cracks up at this while Andy looks at his friend incredulously. "Who are you and what have you done with Dave?"
"Very funny, Skib," Cook says, chuckling. "Aliens haven't abducted me or anything, don't worry."
"For once Andy has a point though," Neal says suddenly and narrowly avoids a smack upside the head. "When we left you were sitting here being Mr. McMopeypants and shit. Now you're looking like Christmas just came early. Either something extremely shocking and wonderful happened or…" Neal's voice trails off, his eyes widening. "Dave. Don't tell me. You got laid!"
Cook laughs slightly at this, but doesn't confirm or deny it.
"Okay," Andy says slowly, "if you didn't get a nice time in the sack...what happened, man? I haven't seen you smile like that ever since Ar –" He stops when Neal shoots him a warning look.
Cook exhales. "It's not really something that made me happy…but rather the connotations of it." He shrugs.
"And in plain English that is…?" Andy prompts him.
"You guys aren't gonna let this go, are you?" Cook shakes his head bemusedly.
"No," Neal and Andy answer in unison. They look at each other and grin before turning their attention back to Cook.
The other man's mouth twitches slightly at this and he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "The thing is...Jeff Archuleta actually called me."
Andy and Neal's reactions are unanimous. "What. The. Fuck." Neal says eloquently.
"I thought you weren't going to talk to him after he was a jackass to you?" Andy gives Neal a glare and motions for Cook to go on.
This time Cook's laugh is hollow. "That's just it. I couldn't not. He gave me a very good reason to talk to him again."
His friends look shocked upon hearing this, but they say nothing.
He sighs quietly and continues. "He told me that Ar – David's not doing well. He hasn't been doing well since – you know." He waves a hand carelessly. "He never sleeps. Or smiles. Or, god, even laughs. His voice is not as strong as it once was – it's taking all he has just to belt out a single decent note. And he doesn't – he's not _himself_." Cook stops, shudders and goes on.
"Jeff called me because he wants me to help David." He draws in a shaky breath. "He wants us to get back together."
* * *
_"I know I've made a lot of mistakes, so many that I can't make up for." Jeff's regret is clear in his voice. "And I know that I have no right to ask you this, after all I've said to you." He pauses._
_Cook is silent, knowing there is more that the other man needs, **wants** to say._
_"To be honest, I think you're the best, the only person I can ask." Cook's breath is stolen from him at this declaration."I just want David to stop hurting. I can't let him destroy himself like this."_
_"And if you don't want to do it for me…" Jeff pauses again. "Do it for David. Please."_
* * *
When he's finished recounting the conversation, Cook is surprised to see the knowing looks on Neal and Andy's faces.
"So what are you waiting for, man?" Neal says finally.
"Carpe diem, as I always say," Andy quips.
"You don't always say that, Skib," Cook says with a smirk.
"Seriously though," Andy continues, as if Cook hadn't spoken, "this is your chance to make things right between you and Archie."
Cook smiles ruefully. "I think it's too late. It's been a year since…" He trails off. "He's probably over m – it now."
"That's a chance you have to take," Andy says gently. "Besides, you don't want to spend the rest of your life regretting the past or wondering what would've happened if you hadn't tried to help him. The both of you are miserable without each other. Now it's time you guys let yourselves be happy."
"He's playing at Midland Theater Tuesday night," Neal chimes in. "8 to 10." He doesn't say anything more, letting the information speak for itself. Silence reigns for a few minutes while Cook takes it all in.
Finally, Cook clears his throat. "Thanks, you guys," His voice is hoarse. "Just. Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Andy grins.
"No, really, don't," Neal says, deadpan, and the three of them laugh.
* * *
When he sees David come onstage, Cook forgets to breathe. It's worse than he'd thought – so, so, so much worse. And he feels himself break, little by little, at this epiphany. Even from he's sitting, near the back of the theater, he can clearly see the drastic changes.
He notices the same things that Jeff witnessed – the fake smile, the empty laugh, the missing spark in his eyes. And he discovers something else, much to his horror – David's singing has become an act. It's turned into a macabre performance, a subtle form of torture that David willingly subjects himself to. The notes are pitch perfect, and the emotions are there – they're just not David's own. They're not real, raw, _honest_. | c739166308b94d12bd812dd9f22ea0eb | ['24b20d733f794fe08048869f5e9bdf85'] |
a piece of love in your face that bathed me in regret
**Author's Note:**
> This is very..weird. Probably one of the strangest and most nonsensical things I've ever written. That includes the one time I wrote demon!Harry fic. I'm very proud of this little creation though <333 Oh, and if you don't happen to be a fan of the pairings mentioned in this fic (i.e. Harry/Hermione and Jacob/Bella), you are free to hit the back button if you wish.
>
> I wrote this for the awesome girlsavesboyfic challenge. The idea behind the fic popped up one day and wouldn't leave me alone until I put it on paper. In the end I'm happy that it didn't! And this turned out more…reflective than shippy. Oh well!
>
> Before I forget, I would like to thank the loffly and spectacular **Spaz** and **Lix** for once again coming to my rescue and being such fabulous betas. There are not good enough words in the English language to express my gratitude. They rock my socks. Always. Thank you so much, ladies.
>
> The title comes from the fantastic and gorgeous song "Breakable" by the equally gorgeous and fantastic Ingrid Michaelson. Oh, and the word "frak" isn't mine – it belongs to Battlestar Galactica (the TV show) and its respective creators. (And uh..I don't own Michael Lee either. Just for the record.)
In many ways, the war never left Hermione.
(Never has. Never will.)
It taught her too much. It was as much a part of her as she was a part of it. War had shown her to live, love and lose, to break apart and come back together again, to be _human_.
Nine years later, war still haunts her. She can see it everywhere. It’s there in the bitter edge of George’s smile, in the countless empty seats at the dining hall tables, in the way her own laughter sounds hollow to her ears. It’s there in everyone’s eyes, voices, postures, gestures, thoughts. It hit them where nothing has, hurt them unlike anything else.
It changed them forever. They were no longer wild, happy, silly, carefree, _young_. A subtle wariness lay in their bones, in their hearts, in their minds. Trust was lost and rarely regained. Nightmares were their only company once the sun went down. The beauty of life faded away and was replaced by a sharp greyness. The world became ugly, a hell that they could never escape from.
War does strange things to people, she reflects. It brings out the best and the worst in them. It can turn them into brutal, bloodthirsty beings. Make them strangers with no souls, with pasts so dark and haunting they no longer knew themselves.
She doesn’t know if she can even recognize _herself_ anymore.
Which is why one day she decides to take a day off from work and goes to Muggle London.
Her London.
* * *
She finds a quiet, charmingly rustic café far from where anyone in the wizarding world could discover her. Sitting at a worn and etched-out wooden table outside, she gazes out into the distance, letting the long-repressed memories wash over her.
(People screaming. Death Eaters crashing Bill and Fleur’s wedding. The sense of wariness and fear that followed her wherever she went. Ron’s parting words: “ _You choose him_.” Harry’s face, so open and expressive even when he put on a façade. Bathilda’s possessed body. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_. Harry closing his eyes at her touch. The elegant and unmarred graves of Lily and James Potter. The sight of Ron, drained and full of quiet regrets and _alive_ , emerging from Harry’s shadow. Thinking of only one face, the only one she would give up everything ( _herself_ ) for while her body felt like it was in eternal fire. Dobby lying on the ground, small, silent and still. The familiar, lifeless body in Hagrid’s arms. Twin flashes of light signaling both death and rebirth.)
“Um, excuse me?” A soft voice interrupts her thoughts.
Hermione blinks, startled, and then a petite brunette girl slowly comes into focus. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly to the waitress (whose nametag reads _Bella_ ). “Had my head in the clouds. What did you ask?”
Bella smiles slightly and waves it off. “It’s fine. I was just asking what you would like to order.”
“Ah. I’ll have a glass of orange juice and a blueberry scone, please. That’s all.” There’s something strange yet so memorable about this Bella girl, Hermione can’t help but think. Something she’s seen before….it takes her a split second to realize exactly what that _something_ is. It’s Bella’s eyes. Her face, her gestures, her voice. They’re world-weary. She’s witnessed war. Felt it, heard it. She still senses it – it’s there, strumming in her bones, in her heart, in her very skin. It won’t escape her.
(It won’t escape Hermione either.)
A hushed laugh escapes Bella’s mouth. “How very British of you,” she says amusedly. Then her eyes widen and her hands immediately fly to her mouth. “Oh, _frak_. I didn’t mean to say that! I’m sorry.”
Hermione chuckles. “It’s fine,” she tells Bella. “I have to go with the stereotype sometimes. Scones are an essential part of life, I think.”
“Oh. Well – I’m sorry, anyway,” Bella’s face is a smooth blank mask now. “I always speak before I think. Should work on that.”
At the moment that Hermione starts to protest, Bella adds quickly, “I’ll be right back with your order,” and walks away.
Shrugging, Hermione returns to her dreary thoughts.
* * *
Within minutes, Bella’s back with a scone and a glass of orange juice. She hesitates for a second, then suddenly her face and demeanor change and a determined look crosses her face. “Do you, um. Do you mind if I sit here for a bit?” She asks, hands flailing a little. “It’s relaxing out here.” |
b8faab817db346aab73d41e0e03f172e | ['24cc906cd9234ac9970337e7d3ec631f'] | The first news story that had caught his eye concerned the disappearance and presumed death of the MacDonalds’ beloved niece and ward. According to the report, the girl had gone sailing with her aunt and uncle to one of the islands off the coast. On the way back to the mainland, she had gone over the side of the boat and been lost. Search parties had been organized, but after nearly a week, no trace of her had been found.
There was a picture of the family on the second page: a tall, husky man with a crooked nose, a wholesome-looking woman with blonde hair, and a pretty girl with long pigtails. Melody Pond, age twelve.
Melody Pond. River Song. No way in hell was that a coincidence.
By the time Coulson surfaced from the papers, he had a pretty clear picture of the chain of events. Melody Pond’s body was never found despite extensive searches. The effort was eventually called off. A week after the girl’s obituary was printed, there was a small note near the back of the paper that said that Robert and Elizabeth MacDonald were moving away and planned to settle in England. The residence that they had vacated was the crumbling old castle outside of Oban.
The newspapers were dated October of 1944.
River must have heard this story at some point in her life, Coulson reasoned. If she really had grown up somewhere near Oban, she could have heard the story and adopted details for her own background, putting her own twist on them. Why? Who the hell knew. But it was the only thing he could think of that made sense.
It didn’t make perfect sense, though. Coulson couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was missing something big and obvious.
He got copies of all the relevant articles. “Genealogical research,” he explained to the librarian stationed at the help desk.
“Melody Pond? The girl who drowned?” The woman looked at him curiously. “You’re connected to the family?”
“You know the story?” Coulson asked, neatly sidestepping the question.
“Oh, yes, indeed.” The librarian’s account of the story was largely in line with the news stories Coulson had already read, but as she handed him his stack of photocopies she added, “You know, if you’re really interested in Melody Pond, the person you should talk to is my gran.”
Coulson briefly sized the woman up, running a quick mental estimate of how old “gran” was likely to be. “Was she living here at the time? Did she know the family?”
“Very well,” the librarian said with a nod. “Melody Pond was her best friend.”
*****
“Of course. I knew Melody very well.” Kathy Ferguson handed Coulson a flowered mug full of steaming tea and set a plate of biscuits on the kitchen table. “We were playmates from the time we were little. We went through grammar school together. It was such a sad thing, what happened to her.”
“It must have been hard, losing your friend like that,” Coulson said.
Mrs. Ferguson sighed as she sat down across the table from him, her own mug of tea cupped in her papery hands. She was a stout woman with thick white hair, the quintessential grandmother. Coulson tried to imagine what she must have looked like sixty years ago and found himself coming up empty.
“It was,” she said. “It’s funny, even at that time with the war on and all the horrible things we heard about every day, it seemed impossible that she could have died. And especially that she had drowned. I didn’t believe it for quite some time.”
“Why is that?” Coulson asked, helping himself to a biscuit.
“Oh, Melody was a strong swimmer. She was as at home in the ocean as she was in her own bathtub. And she was one of those children who was just full of life.” Mrs. Ferguson smiled a bit. “People always say that when a young person dies, but she truly was.”
“I’m sure it didn’t help,” Coulson said, “that they never recovered her body.”
Mrs. Ferguson nodded, sipping her tea. “And not for lack of trying, let me tell you,” she said. “The whole town turned out to search. The soldiers, too. You wouldn’t know it to look at Oban now, but during the war there was a huge military presence here: British, American, Canadian. Practically every man who could be spared from his duties volunteered to help, but they never did find anything.”
“I think I remember reading that her aunt and uncle, the MacDonalds, left town soon after that?”
“Right after the memorial service,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “It all seemed to happen so quickly. The other relations didn’t even attend.”
“The other relations?” Coulson asked.
“They had family in. . . Inverness, maybe? I don’t properly remember. They’d come out for a visit twice a year or so. Not always the same ones. There was a Mrs. Kovarian who always came, and a Dr. Weatherby. There were others, but they didn’t come every time, and I don’t remember their names. Odd folks. I remember that Melody didn’t like them terribly much. She had to sit through some sort of medical exam every time they visited. I have no idea why. Melody was as healthy a child as you’d ever meet. But I remember once she told me that the only thing in the world she was scared of was the doctor. And Melody was a girl who wasn’t scared of anything.”
Coulson filed that information away, not that he had any idea what he might use it for. | 0c33a802cfa7477bb793bf43812d4e0a | ['24cc906cd9234ac9970337e7d3ec631f'] | She’d given some thought to how it would likely go if she did tell them. Best case scenario, they’d laugh it off as a joke. More likely they’d march her down to Psych for a full evaluation, assuming that some universal joint in her head had broken down.
River could prove it, if she had to. It wouldn’t even be that hard. The evidence was written all over her DNA. SHIELD didn’t run a full genetic work-up on its agents (because even SHIELD wasn’t that paranoid) but that didn’t mean that it didn’t have the capability. Any doctor or scientist with a basic understanding of the human genome would be able to look at her genetics and point out the parts that shouldn’t be there.
The parts that marked Agent River Song as not entirely human.
That would lead to the worst case scenario: being locked up in a SHIELD lab and vivisected.
No. The truth was best kept buried deep down and forgotten about as much as possible for as long as possible. And when the Doctor turned up? Well, he might well make that impossible, but she’d jump off that bridge when she came to it.
The light coming through the cracked door dimmed a bit as a lamp was turned out. River quickly tucked the necklace back under the collar of her shirt and rolled over onto her side, back to the door. She wasn’t sure if Clint would be coming to join her. They didn’t spend every night together and for appearance’s sake, he’d stowed his gear in one of the other rooms on the first floor. Still, he knew that she was preoccupied and she knew he was worried about planning the op. Given that they both tended to sleep better when the other was nearby, she rather expected that he would.
Sure enough, after a minute the door creaked open. She heard Clint pull his boots off before stretching out beside her.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked after a moment.
River sighed and rolled over to face him. “Not really,” she said. “Keyed up, I suppose.”
She saw him smile in the dim light and let him work one arm underneath her to pull her over. “You’ve been hanging around with me too long,” he said.
River snorted, amused. Clint’s tendency to bounce off the walls before a mission was old hat to her at this point. As soon as the clock started, he’d be calm and focused, but the buildup made him edgy. River tended to be the opposite. Her adrenaline usually kicked in after the fact.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
“Do you want to tell me why this case is bugging you?” he asked. “And before you say it’s not, you’ve been acting off since Fury called us in to brief us.”
This was the danger of being involved with a trained observer. River propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at Clint. “I need to ask you to do something,” she said.
Even in the dark she could see the hint of wariness in his eyes, but he just said, “Sure.”
River smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt for a moment, gathering her thoughts before replying.
“I know there’s a bigger picture we need to focus on here,” she said. “Terrorists, security breaches, wars, what have you. But promise me you won’t forget that there’s a kid caught up in all of this, and she doesn’t understand what’s going on and she didn’t ask for this to happen. All right?”
If anything he looked more troubled than before. “I haven’t forgotten that for a second,” he said.
River nodded and laid back down with her head against his shoulder. She heard Clint make two abortive stabs at saying something, then finally just sigh as he wrapped his arm around her. River reached up and lightly rubbed the back of his neck until, pre-mission nerves notwithstanding, his breathing evened out into sleep.
Sleep never did find River, but that was all right. Lying in the dark with Clint was the closest to peace she was likely to get for now. That was enough for her.
*****
_Thursday, July 24, 2008_
_0048 Hours_
The night was clear and calm, the exact opposite, Clint thought, of what it would be tomorrow night when Hurricane Dorothy would be right over their heads.
It was a perfect night to do recon.
Clint and River hiked the three-quarters of a mile through the woods, crossed the creek that formed the property boundary, and paused within the tree line to check out the lay of the land. They were at the edge of an old pasture to the east of the Pathways farmhouse. The farmhouse itself was out of sight, over a low, grassy rise. There was a long, low structure in the pasture, standing out palely against the sloping land. The property records Sitwell had pulled for them said it was a barn.
“We’ll clear it before we move on to the house,” River told Coulson over the comm as she and Clint shoved aside some of the rotted planks of wood fence and stepped into the knee-high grass.
The cinderblock structure obviously wasn’t being used by the kidnappers and had the look of long abandonment. It was grown over with kudzu vines and Clint and River could hear the scurrying of small feet as they entered. But it was sturdy and reasonably large and still smelled vaguely of horses. There were five stalls down one side and fortunately their outer doors were all still intact. They’d be able to close out the elements.
“I think we’ve found our staging place,” Clint said. “We can gather up here and move in around the house when the hurricane’s eye is over us.”
_“You’re sure it’s structurally sound?”_ Coulson asked over the comm. |
16421e47af4f4c4aae757e1aaedff513 | ['24f57ebad99e49c497c1c9fcba27dd84'] |
Where Are You? (The Minus Side)
**Author's Note:**
> wrote this on mobile at 11 at night. if there's any errors, that's totally my fault. i hope this is still readable.
>
> please stay safe and stay alive.
The clock on his wall goes _tick, tock, tick, tock,_ over and over and over again, just like his heartbeat.
It takes hours before Tyler finally works up the courage to come out.
He makes an anonymous post on a blog for everyone in his school to see. _you know my name, you know my face, but today I'm hidden from the judgement of the world. but it doesn't matter. i need to get something off my chest. i'm gay._
It's a milestone, he tells himself. It's a step. Because being semi-comfortable with telling others who he is is akin to being semi-comfortable with himself. And that's something, right?
His stomach writhes, and invisible snakes bite his insides. His skin crawls, and he feels sick, absolutely sick. He's used to the mean words, the bullies, but can't imagine what people will say when they find out who the poster is.
+
Josh finds his Internet sessions therapeutic. He finds the middle-aged woman his parents make him see to be a nimrod; not only has she not improved his self-worth issues, she wastes his time with statements like "Tomorrow you can try again, but for now just count to ten."
No, therapy is not the answer. Instead, he lets off steam through the guise of a bully on an anonymous account, and he lurks on the dark side waiting to spew vitriol at an unsuspecting victim.
The post is the perfect answer. _you know my name, you know my face, but today i'm hidden from the judgement of the world. but it doesn't matter. i need to get something off my chest. i'm gay,_ it reads.
_Fucking faggots like you should kill themselves,_ Josh types. He hits Send. The comment posts, and Josh doesn't regret it. Not one bit. The guilt will come in the morning, but the night is reserved for hatred. He slowly feels the anger inside him dissipate, and slams his computer shut a little too hard.
Beside him, his phone is lit up. It's a text from Tyler, sent five minutes ago. He'd missed it, having been too busy playing Pass It On with his rage.
Honestly, Tyler is the only good thing in Josh's life right now. The way he smiles, his contagious laughter, the way he goes out of his way to make sure Josh is happy; Josh can't help but fall a little in love with him, honestly. But not gay love, never that. He's not gay, and he's not hypocritical. It's more...platonic love, saved only for the best of friends.
Tyler doesn't deserve all the hate he gets at school.
Josh reads the text. _I finally did something I never thought I'd do,_ it reads.
_oh?_ Josh replies, curious, but he doesn't get an answer.
+
Tyler hunches over his desk and cries. Hands pressed to his eyes, his shoulders shake as his mouse hovers over the comment.
_Fucking faggots like you should kill themselves,_ it says, and it hurts. It hurts, because Tyler knows it's true. The world would be such a better place without him. He hates himself, he's not afraid of saying it out loud. The monitor burns the comment into his mind, ingrains it in his brain, and he wants to die.
The only reason he's still around is because of Josh. Josh, who depends on Tyler to keep himself happy. Josh, his only friend, his lifeline. Josh, who doesn't even know he's gay, probably hasn't even seen the post.
God, he needs Josh now. He doesn't have Josh, but he has something else instead, something that will provide just as much comfort as his friend would.
His hands shake as he gropes in the dark for the small plastic device, already crusted with dried blood from its last use, and closes his fingers over it.
+
Josh lies in bed, phone cradled to his chest. He watches the comment chain get larger. The world is a fucking cruel place; half the comments are more aggressive than the one he left in the first place.
_kys queer fag,_ one reads. Does the poster not know that "queer fag" is technically redundant? Josh stares as he scrolls through the comments.
_lol ur going to hell just as OP said_
_I can give you the number of a guy I know, he'll suck u off for free_
_man, I hope you slit your wrists and die. Retards like you deserve to die_
_Hang yourself_
_drink bleach lmaooo_
Josh wants to kill these people. Never mind who the original poster was, never mind that he himself started it. No, most of these people must go to school with him, and this is undeniably the cruelest language Josh has ever seen. He's blown away by how horrible his fellow classmates can be. Does he sit in class with these people? The thought makes him sick. No one should be subjected to this. He wishes they didn't live in such a conservative town.
He wants to cry; instead, he texts Tyler.
_I did something bad, and I feel like shit. Talk to you in the morning, man. Goodnight._
_+_
The chair is old, but it'll do the job.
The rope feels strange in his hands as he makes a noose and ties the end around the ceiling fan.
He's tired of living, tired of the hateful words, tired of being _Tyler._ He's tired of being rejected.
_Josh would understand._ | 2fec051213dc4f769a0a234e11f1493d | ['24f57ebad99e49c497c1c9fcba27dd84'] |
Exit Right Lane
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you to everyone who supported me on the Archive.
>
> My first fanfic I ever wrote regarding twenty one pilots.
> Here you go.
Tyler Joseph does not get drunk. When he was younger, his parents stressed that doing things under the influence would always end badly. And judging from what Tyler has seen in various places; parties, in alleys, even walking home from school, he doesn't ever want to experience being drunk, either.
So he can't explain what happened when he wakes up draped over a couch in a dark and silent house, and his head is pounding. His limbs hurt too, since he's at such an awkward angle, and his arm is tingling because he's laying on it.
_Shit_ , he thinks. That was another thing his parents told him not to do. Cuss. But Tyler thinks he reserves the right to, especially since he's in some strange person's house, on some strange person's couch, and was so obviously passed out there, with no recollection of how he got there.
Tyler rubs at his eyes, pushes himself into a sitting position with much effort, and looks around. He's in a living room, it's clearer to him now. There's a TV on top of a stand, another armchair, a lamp that's plugged into an outlet in the corner. And Tyler panics, because he has no idea how the hell he got there, and the foreign environment is making him dizzy. And itchy. He scratches at his arms.
If getting into a sitting position was agony, standing up is pure, unadulterated pain. But Tyler manages to do it anyway, swaying on his feet as the room dips and spins around him. This increases the pounding in his head.
He makes himself take a step. Then another step. Slowly towards what looks like the kitchen. Tyler's mind can't be too sure, but it has a sink and a stove in it, so it must be the kitchen. He has to get out of this strange house.
Another five steps, however, and it's clear Tyler's going to spew the contents of his stomach everywhere. He really doesn't want to get it on this person's nice rug, but he doesn't really want to not throw up either, because his stomach is churning and he feels like shit, and throwing up will probably chase a lot of the pain away.
He's indecisive, but apparently his bodily functions are not fully under his control. He leans sideways and vomits, shaking the entire time, until there's just a puddle of bile sinking into the carpet on the floor.
Oh, well. At least it kind of blends in.
He makes his way to the kitchen and towards the island countertop. He doesn't know his way around the strange house, but instinct tells him the front door is close.
Considering he clearly got wasted, maybe it's best not to trust his instincts, though.
He's aware of a sharp pain in his arm, and he turns his wrist slightly. It's swollen and an angry red, even though there's no visible wound. And turning it makes the pain intensify until Tyler feels like he's going to black out again.
"Damn," he mutters out loud, and stumbles out of the kitchen. But his foot catches on the ground, and suddenly the world is tilting again, and he's on his back, looking up at the white painted ceiling. His head hurts more. He realizes he must've hit it.
A laugh escapes his throat, even though there's nothing remotely funny about the situation. He thinks he hears footsteps, but he can't be sure. He's too out of it to be sure. And Blurryface takes that moment to jump in, snarling about how pathetic he is. Pathetic for getting drunk, for not even being able to fucking walk, for being overall useless.
Tyler blacks out again on the floor, letting the darkness claim him.
\-------
"Where am I?"
"Do you really not remember?"
\-------
When Tyler opens his eyes again, he feels slightly better. He's back on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and sunlight from the windows is streaming in. It must be daytime. It's hitting him right in the face, though, and the light hurts so badly he turns away, facing the back of the couch.
That's when he panics again. How is he back on the couch? Where did this blanket come from? He recalls hearing footsteps. Oh god, someone is in this house with him.
Tyler finds he can't take deep breaths, and he panics even more, putting his head between his knees and trying to drag in a lungful of fresh air, but it's not working, and he can't fucking breathe. This is just the perfect moment to have a panic attack.
Someone is at his side instantly. Tyler sees the legs, clad in jeans, hears a voice telling him to calm down and breathe with him.
He mirrors the stranger's breaths until he feels his chest loosening. He's calm now, in control.
He looks up. A man's face is looking back at him. Tyler sees gauges in his ears, a pierced lip, dark brown hair that's shaved on the sides and dyed red, Mohawk-style. It's the kind of guy his parents would never, ever let him befriend. So naturally, he jerks back in surprise, flinching away into the back of the couch.
The stranger kneels beside him. "Hey, it's okay," he says gently. "You're okay."
What the hell? Tyler thinks, but all that comes out of his mouth is a guttural sound.
The stranger introduces himself. "I'm Josh," he says. He smiles at Tyler.
As much as Tyler doesn't want to reply, just wants to get the hell out of this uncomfortable and alien situation, his parents taught him respect and politeness. And anyways, it seems kind of unfair not to at least give your name to a guy who clearly dealt with your inebriation. |
797606fed7494651ba019c2d3093e480 | ['25161218eb324487a45bf03e5a75c74e'] | Part 1: Bitch you thought
**Author's Note:**
> This series is going to be about 12 ish chapters long *or 12 separate one-shots bc I'm not writing it like a chaptered story* and it is inspired by one of my favourite fics called The Sehun Appreciation Society, this is such a cool idea so I'd like to thank the writer of that fic for the insp (here's the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841861 ) I hope you enjoy my less plot, kris version lmao
Things were starting to get kind of weird in Kris’ life. Well, it’s not like the members were ever completely normal but they’ve really been taking it to the next level recently. Be it multiple people staring at him during practice or lingering touches on stage or in interviews. Everyone always says Kris is pretty dense but in a situation like this, how could he not notice?
Just before the release of a new song or album is when the members are the busiest doing all sorts of training. Especially at the moment with it being around two weeks before the release of their 2nd mini album.
It’s really starting to bug him. Not that Kris dislikes attention but it makes him think he’s doing something wrong. That thought is only solidified when Yixing calls him back after practice one day.
“Kris, can we go over the rap in overdose quickly? I’m kinda struggling with the choreo” Lay asks. Although, Lay seemed great at that part during practice.
“Uh, yeah…sure” Kris agrees anyway, as the leader of m it is his duty to help his members after all.
After going through the rap part twice and lay getting none of the moves wrong, Kris starts to wonder. “Xing, are you sure you need help with this? You aren’t getting anything wrong…” he questions, slightly out of breath.
“one more time?” Yixing suggests, seeming just as worn out as the older man.
“Can I just sit down for a sec?” Kris nods as he wanders over to the only remaining chair in the studio, not waiting for a reply.
“You’re such a grandpa sometimes” Lay giggles as he follows Kris over to the chair and sits on his knee, facing away from the man.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kris sighs out when Lay sits.
“What~? You took the only chair. I’m not bothering you, am I?” Lay turns slightly, smirking at Kris’ shocked expression.
“Aha..ah…no. Let’s just g-go back to dancing” he stuttered as he attempts to move the smaller man from his knee.
“Or” Yixing begins, twisting his body fully to face Kris “we could just stay here” he whispers, now positioned just above the man’s crotch. “Isn’t this more fun?”
“Don’t tell me this is what all that shit recently has been about?” he questioned, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.
“Knew you’d figure it out eventually” Lay smirks into the curve of his neck, lightly kissing the smooth skin. “it was Xiumin's idea, you know...” he hints as the kisses between his sentences get heavier and more desperate. “I had to fight like three other members to get to do this first” he wraps his arms around Kris’ shoulders and leans back down to whisper a final “but aren’t you glad I won?” before joining their lips with a heated crash. Lay runs his tongue over the taller man’s lip and then bites at it lightly, leaving the man moaning into the others mouth. “I bet you’ve wanted this for just as long as I have. I’ve seen the way you watch me. Staring at me like you’d drop to your knees and take my dick like the thirsty little slut you are” Yixing teases, grinding his hips down into the man crotch.
At this, Kris smirks as he grabs the younger's hips, slowing his movements and pulling a needy groan from the man’s lips as they leave his own. Kris places a hand at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. “You think that’s why I stare at you?” the man growled “I watch you because I’d love to see that pretty ass of yours sinking down on my dick” at this, Kris pulls particularly hard at Lays hair causing him to throw his head back with a whimper. Kris then began sucking and biting at Lays neck, leaving a pretty trail of bruises behind him.
While this was happening, Lay began moving his hips in a similar way to before, only this time more desperate. Lay could feel Kris’ erection rubbing against his own as he moves, this only encourages lay to keep moving, and eventually lose control. “Fuck, do that again” Lay pleads as Kris pulls at this hair again. They join their lips again in a rough mess of tongue and teeth
“Kinky little slut, aren’t we?” Kris breathes out, pulling on lays hair once again. Lay jerks back and cried out as his orgasm washed through his system. His eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open. Kris follows shortly after.
-
“Well, I guess I lost the bet” lay whines as he waddled from Kris’ lap and onto the cold floor.
“what bet?” he mumbled as he relaxed back into his chair.
“I had a bet with Baekhyun that I could top you. He said there was no way in hell” Lay giggled, resting on his elbows as he glances up at the rather sweaty, messy haired man.
“You guys are stupid” Kris chuckled “Anyway, can we go shower now? I feel gross since you fucking made me come in my pants you idiot”
*part 1 of 12 in the Galaxy Fanfan club series* | 58bea99992a54f71a2e51447bbfce68f | ['25161218eb324487a45bf03e5a75c74e'] | sehorny ready for the porny
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this for my girlfriend bc we're both horrible smutty people and who doesn't love a bit of suggested hunhan
>
> ps you know you love the title don't lie
>
> pps none of this is proof read so excuse any possible typos and such
It was late at night and Sehun had just finished getting ready for bed and saying goodnight to all the other members, well, minus EXO-M members who were away in China. Sehun got into bed and pulled his quilt up over his head with a sigh. He missed Luhan. Sehun hated it when EXO-M had to go and promote in China without K. It just didn't feel normal.
"Goodnight, Sehun-ah" Junmyeon said from the other side of the bedroom. Sehun wasn't aware that his hyung was still awake but he must understand how Sehun feels since Kris is away at the moment as well.
As Sehun closes his eyes to sleep his mind wanders back to the last night he shared with Luhan a week ago. Being in a massive 12 member group they never get the time for dating and sex or even the occasional fap, so when the members get that chance there's absolutely no way they'd miss it. With EXO it goes from Baekhyun and Chanyeols playful butt-slapping to some heated touching and kissing with Taozi and whoever he can get his hands on, to an actual relationship like Kris and Junmyeons.
With him and Luhan it all started with some playful touching but somehow it escalated to rushed blow jobs in the company toilets and even some actual fucking when they shared a room this one time. Sehun could feel himself getting slightly hard from that memory alone.
Luhan wasn't the type to talk about these things so Sehun really had no idea where him and Luhan stood relationship wise but for now he was fine with just helping his hyung when he needed to get off.
He began to palm himself through his boxers while he relived the memory of the first time Luhan sucked him off. Sehun was on of the few people in the group to see Luhans soft exterior crumble to reveal his true, filthy self. Luhan liked to be in control of the person fucking him. He never topped, but he was always the one in control; making the person he was with come apart with the movement of his hips or his lips around their dick was his specialty, and Sehun couldn't get enough.
He was fully hard now, and with a quick check that his hyung was asleep he pushed his underwear down to his knees and started working his hand up and down his shaft slowly, squeezing a little harder at the base.
He continued this as he thought about the time that he saw Luhan doing exactly the same in the bedroom while Sehun was in the shower. He had opened the door slightly when he heard some faint moans coming from the bedroom and he saw Luhan lying fully naked on the bed with his towel underneath him and his hand around his hard cock. Sehun was bigger than Luhan but that turned them both on.
The pace of Sehuns hand was quickening as he ran his fingers over his leaking tip. He was getting close and he knew if he didn't lower the volume of his high pitched whines and moans that his sleeping hyung would wake up. Sehun started to think about what would happen if Junmyeon saw him. Would he be disgusted and leave the room? Or would he pull down Sehuns quilt, climb over him and take control of Sehuns thin body. He knew Junmyeon wasn't a very dominant person but Sehun just got the feeling that Junmyeon would naturally want to dominate him. Make him scream his name as he came all over Junmyeons hand, and that's exactly what he did, well, all over his own hand. Junmyeons name was on the tip of his tongue as he came, but in the end it was Luhans name that came out with a gasp as his whole body filled with unimaginable pleasure.
Sehun wiped his release off of his hands and threw the tissue in the bin next to his bed. He grabbed his phone and opened his and Luhans chat.
'i miss u hyung' |
772d825d39224291bc08df8bc05faa1e | ['258ee59f41e747959efc4482071aa5bb'] | Harry laughs out loud, “Oh my god!”
“I’ll miss that.” Niall suddenly says that made Harry stop laughing.
“What?” Harry asks in confusion.
“I mean, I _missed_ that, your laugh. I missed hearing your loud laugh.” Niall smiles.
“Awwh.” Harry cooed in which Niall laughed.
“But you know what?” Harry blurts out of nowhere. “If I know who the donor is, I’ll go to them and hug them tightly and I’ll thank them a hundred times, or even just their parents. It’s because of them that I’ll have a second chance in life, y’know? And when I’m totally okay, I want the both of us to have a vacation in Australia for a month.”
“We have our jobs, you git. Our bosses will kill us.” Niall grins.
“I don’t care. I want us to go there. It’s like a celebration for the second life. And I want us to adopt a dog or a cat, because I think we badly need one. And we’ll have a date in Paris, like in the Eifel Tower. And we’ll buy a cottage in Ireland so we have somewhere to stay when we want to go there. And we’re going to do that all when I’m fully healed.” Harry states and Niall admire him.
“Hmm… That probably costs all the money we kept.” Niall smirks but Harry pouts at him.
Niall hesitates but gave up entirely, “Okay, okay. We’ll… do that, when you’re fully healed.”
“Yes!” Harry cheered and Niall mutters, “You’re such a kid.”
Harry just smiles at him and kisses him deeply.
///
Tomorrow is Harry’s heart transplant.
But now, he’s sitting on a wheel chair and he’s very certain that they’re on an elevator with the blindfold and all.
“Are we there already?” Harry asks curiously as he heard the ding. Niall told him to dress nice and wear the blindfold. He wishes he never wore the blindfold, since he hates not knowing whatever Niall plans. But he’s excited, nonetheless.
“Nope, not yet.” Niall says and Harry can definitely hear the grin on his voice. He felt Niall push him somewhere and when the wheelchair halted to stop. He suddenly felt nervous. Then, there’s hands that slides on the back of his legs and on his back, and he’s being lifted on air.
“I can walk, you know?” Harry states as Niall lifted him upstairs.
“I don’t want you to trip. You trip over your own foot in broad daylight. Can you imagine what would happen if you walk upstairs with blindfolds?” Niall deadpans and Harry didn’t answer. “That’s what I'm saying.”
“Oh, god.” Harry laughs as he felt himself being lowered down into something soft. He can feel that he’s sitting on a hard concrete but his hands touched soft cloth. Blanket.
Niall removed his blindfolds and he’s met by lots of candle lights and a huge wave of cold air. He then realizes that they’re on the hospital’s rooftop.
Harry was in awe then Niall sits in front of him. “You liked it?”
“Of course, but don’t you think we’ll be burned alive here?” Harry gestures at the candles as he smiles.
“Don’t worry, they’re not real candles. There won’t be light anymore if they’re real candles, with the cold wind and all.” Niall gets the basket near them and pulls out few sandwiches.
“It’s really great here. Real sweet.” Harry smiles at Niall and he munches on his sandwich.
“It’s good that you liked it here. Had to bribe the security team to let us go here.” Niall grins at him.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to take you on a date.” Niall smiles sweetly at him. “And here’s the last place that I can take you since you’re not allowed to go out the hospital. Your doctor might whip me if I sneaked you out to a restaurant, can’t risk that.”
Harry laughs and smiles adoringly at him. “God, I love you. How did I ever deserve you?”
Niall stills and touches his cheek. “I love you, too. And don’t ever think that you don’t deserve me. I am with you because I love you and I want to spend every minute of my life with you.”
Niall made Harry smile with every word he said. He made him feel special and Harry felt like he’s falling in love with Niall all over again. Their night was full of surprises from Niall and Harry feels like normal again. Like, everything is just like before, before this heart disease and everything is normal. They ate all the foods Niall made, and Niall serenaded Harry with songs that mean a lot to them. And everything is perfect.
“You know what?” Niall asks out of nowhere while they lay there on the blanket. Harry snuggles tighter on Niall’s side with his head on his chest as he hums in response. “I never really thought I’d end up with you.”
Harry lifted his head and looks at Niall, “Wow, that’s an inspiring start.”
Niall chuckles, “But when Barbara broke up with me and you held me that night, I realized that she aren’t worth my time. You made me realize that it’s better to be with that person who saw the worst part of you and still be at your side. It was you who made me feel what the true love is. And I’m really grateful for that.”
Harry felt the warmth spread on his chest and he’s smiling. He can’t stop smiling at Niall and it’s overwhelming, in a good way.
“I love you.” Harry whispers and Niall smiles widely at him.
“I love you, too.” Niall replies. “And mind you, you definitely look like a lesbian before so it’s still a shock for me.” Niall grins.
Harry gasps. Everyone always teases him about looking like a lesbian back in the middle school, and it never fails to annoy Harry. “How dare you?!”
Niall laughs, “You definitely look like one, but it’s cute.” | 7dc4886fc61b4a6498f55371134aea61 | ['258ee59f41e747959efc4482071aa5bb'] | "H-hyung…" Jungkook croaks out and it seems to break Jimin out of his trance. The alpha slowly walks to the omega in bed, his coffee and vanilla scent becoming stronger and stronger with his every step.
"Jungkookie…" Jimin mutters, his eyes raking Jungkook from head to his toe, making the latter shiver at his stare. "How are you feeling?"
Jungkook snorts, "I'm feelin' peachy." As if on cue, there's a deep tug on his stomach and he groans at the pain.
Jimin chuckles nervously and he sits down at the chair beside Jungkook's bed. "Before we proceed, I want to know if you're 100% okay with this. If you still don’t feel comfortable with me, we can find another way."
"I-I'm okay with this. I just want the pain to go away, hyung." Jungkook stutters, "And I-I'd rather go through this with you than any other alphas there." Jungkook says truthfully as he looks at Jimin in the eyes. There's this deep tug at his lower stomach again but it's not as painful as before. "A-Are you okay with it?"
"Yes, I'm okay with it." Jimin answers, "I just want you to be okay, Jungkook. This heat is too much for your health and if I need to go help you go through it, I will."
Jungkook nods, "T-then take away my pain, hyung. Please make it stop." He sobs in his pillow and Jimin is immediately on his side. The younger sees the elder's face clearer it’s red. Jimin's face is pure red and there are sweat beads on his forehead. When the younger grips his forearm, his skin is burning.
"Do you have a fever, hyung?" Jungkook asks Jimin, and the elder can't look at him in the eyes. Jimin's coffee scent fully invades Jungkook's nostrils and the deep tug on his stomach becomes stronger. It's making him want to devour the alpha in front of him, and this want is becoming overwhelming.
Jungkook sits up with his hand still on Jimin's left forearm, " _Why_ do you have a fever, hyung?"
"I-I don't know why," Jimin looks conflicted, and Jungkook waits for him to continue but he's becoming impatient. The deep tug on his deep stomach - he figures must be his inner omega - is starting to cloud his head and it just wants nothing but to devour the alpha in front of him. "But I'm in a rut."
When Jungkook heard the word 'rut', the omega in him finally got inside of his head. With clouded eyes, he climbs on Jimin's lap and tucks his face on the alpha's neck, all his dignity and self-restraint went outside of the window, leaving him with his shameless inner omega.
"Are you supposed to have your rut now?" Jungkook asks, his face still tucked on his hyung's neck. His nose right above the elder's scent gland. His omega wants to nip right at the gland but he resists it. Scent glands are one of the most sensitive and private part of a person, and he doesn't want his hyung to back out on him just because he doesn't know his boundaries.
"No, I already had it last month with Taetae." At the mention of the alpha's mate, Jungkook pulled away from the elder's scent gland, but not because he's feeling guilty but because it's making his inner omega want to _bite_ at the scent gland. "It doesn't make sense. I'm supposed to have my rut in two months, not _now._ "
Jungkook just nods at him, and goes back to his neck, can't resist the urge to smell his coffee scent again. His head is so clouded that he cannot think straight anymore. "If you're in rut… then let go, hyung. You're with me."
Jimin chuckles and he - _finally_ \- put his hands on Jungkook's bare hips. "What's gotten into you? You’re so shameless."
Jungkook groans, becoming more impatient with his inner omega fully clouding his head. "I'm in heat, hyung. And I want you to take me." Jungkook then rolls his hips, his naked cock rubbing into Jimin's clothed one. Jimin growls and his hands grip Jungkook's hips tightly.
"Tell me if it's too much, Kook. I'll stop anytime. If you're uncomfortable or you want to stop, just tell me. Okay?" Jimin says and Jungkook just nods.
"Are we clear, Jungkook?" Jimin asks again sternly, his voice getting deeper, and it went straight to Jungkook's cock.
"Yes, hyung. I will tell you. Now, _please,_ take me." Jungkook's hand grips Jimin’s hair and he whispers right into his ear, "I want your knot, hyung."
Jungkook's back suddenly hits the mattress and Jimin is on top of him in a second, straddling him. The alpha whispers a _can I kiss you?_ in the omega nods eagerly. There's a pair of lips on his, devouring him, tasting him. Jungkook feels like he's in heaven, that he's finally kissing the lips that he's been dreaming of kissing since he was a freshman.
Jungkook swipes his tongue on Jimin's lower lip and when the alpha finally granted him access, their tongues go and fight for dominance. Their tongues curl against each other while Jungkook's hands tug on the alpha's white shirt, gripping the cloth until the owner gets the message that _he wants the shirt gone._
Jimin then breaks their heavy make-out, a string of saliva connecting both of their lips and Jungkook finds it really _really_ hot. The younger undresses the elder, pulling the white shirt without a word and reconnecting their lips after. Jimin's hands went from his hips to his sides while dragging the black hoodie up to his armpits. The younger gets the hint and breaks their kiss again. He sits up, with the alpha on his lap, and pulls the hoodie over his head. |
794b223c9db248a0a6e3d46d56ce884e | ['259fc34fff2c4aecbad8177a36e7890a'] | Gathering supplies meant a budget, which Laurent was thrilled to deliver— prudent, or according to Severa, a complete cheap ass in the most literal sense. Inigo admittedly could have done without the precise haggling notes.
_This is fine_. In the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday, his mother asked to perform a ceremonial wedding dance with him for his friends. When he refused her crushed expression cut him to the quick. But desecrating her legacy while her younger self’s disappointment projected against the horrified audience of everyone he knew despite her brilliant choreography hurt far deeper. _This is better than staying behind_. Inigo kept it a mantra as Severa shoved another package into his burdened arms. It was the third stop, Cynthia’s requests for flower petals met with confusion.
“There’s gotta be someplace that’ll sell... Hey, Sev’, will you do my hair?” Cynthia walked backwards, waiting for her reply. Not the best of plans. Brady, who of course carried nothing, caught her before she fell.
“No eating dirt ‘fore you walk down the aisle.”
“’Tch she’ll trip on the way there too—” Severa’s wallflower shadow chastised her. “Fine, Noire. Consider it a wedding present. Don’t complain if I catch a tangle!”
Cynthia cheered, fists raised in victory.
“What a cheap gift.”
“Shut up, Inigo!” Severa berated him until they ducked into a storefront.
The shopkeeper cast a wary eye at the rush of noise. Overwhelming florals wafted to his senses, cut blooms lined the walls along with tins of tea. The mix of perfumes were intoxicating and he was drawn to a display of lilies. What a perfect shop and the flowers were too good to pass up.
As Cynthia made her inquiry, understanding donned their face and they brought out muslin wrapped bundles. Doubly excited she slid the gold over while Noire unfurled one of the pouches. Nudging Severa, the pair turned in unison to focus ire upon the clerk.
“This stuff’s a week away from potpourri, what the—”
“You dare offer this dreck—”
“We make tea with the petals. It’s as close we got.” Town living made them fearless. Or senseless. “No refunds.”
“I could say the same for your life, worm, where’s my bow—”
“C’mon, Noire, let’s get some fresh air.” Brady stayed her vehement form with one hand while Severa seethed in place, mouth curled into a snarl. Better intervene before things got vicious.
“Wow, what a fine conundrum, I daresay almost as fine as yourself.” Stepping to the forefront, Inigo changed course at the cold regard directed his way. “Ah, uh, we’ve not a lot of money you see. Tight budget. Surely we can come to an agreement. We’ve not opened the others, you can still sell them as your world class tea.
“But you see the flower petals were meant for a wedding.” Clearly unmoved, it was time to up the sympathy. “It’d be a shame to pelt tea at our”—he sidled up to Cynthia, slinging his free arm over her shoulders—“I mean my lovely bride. Truly a waste of your wares.” He hoped they hadn’t heard Severa’s gagging _oh my gawds_ and jostled Cynthia at her slow uptake.
“Uhhh, right! That’s my… betrothed.” _Wasn’t Cynthia the better actress, could you sound a little more convincing?_ “All I ever dreamed of but I got him instead.” She threw an arm around his waist. He winced as something in his pocket crunched. Granted, they looked like what they were— old friends, but another customer walked in and praise Naga, it was enough.
“I suppose I could make an exception.” The space she occupied was vacant before they finished speaking. Inigo dropped his arm heavily. Nice. He pulled the flowers he wanted to buy from his pocket, stems broken. The clerk cleared their throat loudly.
“I’d intended those a surprise for my dear—”
“I don’t want anyone thinking you bought those here.”
Free flowers weren’t bad. However the problem was the pretty maiden he tried to give it to took not a charming pity in the blooms state, but offense. Rejected, he wandered with the others through the open air market, picking up this and that. By the time they returned, he was exhausted. Sure it was romantic, a reprieve from the march and a little annoying— Owain of all people—but they fit each other.
Though evening swathed the castle, sleep was a foreign concept. It was too early for him regardless. With his mind preoccupied and no worthy distractions in his private room, Inigo roamed the halls.
Still audible through the thick oaken door, Owain was going on in what was no doubt a monologue. It would be best to interrupt before the practice became a habit.
A quick rap of knuckles and the rustling of paper. Owain opened the door, blond hair messier than usual, smudge of ink on the side of his face. Parchment strewn across his desk, Princess Lucina a supervisor to the mess, sitting composed as ever on a high backed chair.
“I did not realize you were with com—”
“I was taking my leave in a moment.” She hugged Owain as she strode past. “The last was perfect, she will see your sentiments true.” Princess Lucina bid Inigo a tiny unsmiling wave before heading towards her own quarters.
Watching her depart, a tingle ran down his neck, and he rubbed the sensation away. “This was folly. I should go.”
“Hold friend you have traversed all this way, what ails you.” Owain leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded.
“It’s easy enough to return. I walked down the hall.”
“Not before you duel, the very trees whisper scandal of your treacherous attempts to steal away Cynthia.”
Inigo tilted his head as if the new angle would help him understand. “What.” | e652dc025d4b4c7eac9ce54dd9522003 | ['259fc34fff2c4aecbad8177a36e7890a'] | Gerome’s lance impaled a berserker— its uncanny ability to survive absurd to his adrenaline addled mind— when he was truly lost, blinded by the sun. Surely it hung overhead in the sky as ever but its source was here: absorbing, emitting from Inigo’s very skin, glinting off his armor. Restorative brilliance suffused into his frame as he struck down the skewered monster. As glimmers of light waned, the blood crusting round Inigo’s mouth, even the roughness of Inigo’s yelling vanished. That was nonsense. He couldn’t tarry on it, with his lance free he held his guard, seconds later meant his head lolling in the snow.
Battle roared alongside them, human screams cut short amongst the clash of weapons. Gerome fell into rote until he parsed their weak points, clear as if reading a map. Rage not unearthed save in a dead timeline he called home manifested in pure anger and hate. A bellow left his lungs, altogether foreign. He dived low, Minerva’s belly a hairs breadth from the ground, slaying the next engaging Risen in a single hit.
His victory was brief, for the dead held no honor. There was desperation, vestiges of a will to survive in their area’s lone fighter and it leapt upon him, almost knocking him off his mount.
Its’ weight plunged him past the tipping point, one leg still trapped in the stirrup. Minerva lowered with their descent, time enough to struggle free and the sole reason his ensnared foot hadn’t snapped, bless her.
Careening into a snowbank and stunned, Gerome’s last breath would be of a thousand corpses before he became one. The warrior pinned his wielding arm, leaving his lance completely useless.
He couldn’t act upon fear only instinct.
His free hand gripped one of Father’s old daggers, splitting a purple sliver in its abdomen, its flinch enough for him to collect the wherewithal to aim. Into a cloud of ashes. _That could never be enough._ A pair of hatchets lay next to him and he scrambled to sit up. His vision swam. Minerva curled around him, protective.
“I said I’ve got you.” All he saw was Inigo, breath leaving in clouded puffs, hand outstretched and an arm tucked behind his back as if asking to dance. A strange oasis of peace in bedlam.
“I could have taken it,” he readjusted his mask, ignoring the look of disbelief Inigo cast toward his dagger. Minerva’s screech betrayed him as he took his arm. Inigo’s fingers came away red. _That’s mine._
“It would seem so.”
Lest he give voice to every stray thought spinning in his head, Gerome bit the inside of his cheek.
Inigo ducked away, hands feeling for something on his person, before pressing a tiny ampoule into his hand. He blurted when did he start buying useful things, much less afford an expensive Elixir. Inigo countered to mind his own wallet and drink it. Prolonged rush wearing off, the gash hurt in earnest and he didn’t intend to argue with his arm dripping ichor onto the ground.
“I owe you one.” The medicine’s taste left him heady from renewal, unbroken skin stitched fresh beneath his uniform.
Inigo muttered his savings were fine since he pocketed it from the convoy. “So you owe nothing.” Inigo retrieved the hatchets, facing away from him. “Obviously.”
“How unlike you.” Gerome was not debating ethics considering his upbringing. His appreciation for impeccable quality didn’t arise from the ether, neither did genuine kindness. “I am in your debt regardless.”
“Certainly you didn’t expect me to let you die?” He crammed the weapons under his oversized shield. “If you want to repay me so badly, Gerome, don’t get hurt. I can save my elixirs.”
Inigo squeezed his arm as he passed, swift as a figment.
Once their weight was buoyed on Minerva’s reliable back, he regained his senses. “You’d hardly need them save your inclination to jumping from Minerva.” Gerome squinted at the very memory. “Why were you glowing?”
“Guess I learned something new is all,” Inigo sighed. “I hope some ladies saw that.”
Gerome glanced to where Severa and Noire fought together. She a dangerous whirlwind of blades, sharp edges and malice with Noire behind her, sniping at anything within her scope, face contorted. “They’ve better entertainment.”
“Too bad, I was awesome. No one notices me.”
“Yes, surely we can all cease fighting to bask in your presence.”
“Well you saw, suppose that counts.”
“Hardly,” Gerome boasted. “I do not bask.” He led them towards another skirmish to sweep up any stragglers as Inigo good-naturedly agreed.
◊◊◊
The Shepherds journeyed forth—clusters of Risen beleaguering their path— as snow gave way to the withered grasslands marking the Ylissean border, bare trees clawing at the sky. At all towns and checkpoints they left behind a grinning blacksmith, stocking up every weapon and tome the coffers would allow. Villagers called to them, some in aid, others in polite offerings. As they turned away none, gratitude and weariness set round the camp’s nightly fires, foreboding its unwelcome accompaniment. Such distance yet none save Robin knew what spurred on such urgency. It wasn’t until rumors circulated to her ears that she broke silence— before mass hysteria overcame all reason— though vague explanations like the _‘call of the Divine Dragon’s Voice commanded it’_ didn’t soothe matters.
Say’ri guarded Tiki with her life in all things, even nosy soldiers.
Receiving nothing, the ranks found the crenellation of Ylisstol proper a balm quelling their fears, stone interrupting the horizon among full boughs swaying in a temperate breeze. Home or something kin enough for most soldiers, they rejoiced: at its appearance and again at the announcement of Cynthia and Owain’s wedding, for what Shepherd didn’t love a party.
With the march on brief hiatus, there was much to do and each Shepherd became family. The betrothed themselves were none too fussed, fidgeting their way through another fitting. Cooks at headquarters were toiling for a day already, moving into the castle’s kitchens at Princess Lissa’s behest. |
311edc5dc81d4ec29979ce1664696e17 | ['25af2f36178c4889a52f0d17b77d708f'] | Another few tables had to be pulled up as the breakfast onslaught was delivered, and in the background noise of Steve thanking everyone, Tony noticed a familiar duo sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant. Red hair. A yellow shirt.
“Don’t panic, but I think there’s a hostage situation,” Tony leaned in and whispered once they were alone again. He jerked his head toward the pair.
“You mean Bruce and Natasha?” Steve glanced over. “They’ve been there for a bit. Were there when we were seated.”
“Why? They’re spying on us?” Tony peered over Steve’s shoulder. Though if that was the case then they were doing a horrible job, not even looking over in their general direction. Natasha has their back to them, elbow on the table in a relaxed posture. Bruce was smiling, shaking a little, Tony would go so far as to say he was laughing if that wasn’t just weird.
“I don’t think so.” Steve spared them a glance but he didn’t not for too long. “Maybe they’re just enjoying each other’s company.”
“That’s weird.”
Like Romanoff, looking relaxed, but that’s not possible. Her head would combust first.
“Why?” Steve asked. “They look happy together.”
“I don’t trust it.”
“Maybe you should eat before your food gets cold.” Steve placed a fork in Tony’s hand.
“My food? What? No, this is the only fuel I need.” Tony held up his coffee cup. “See, the whole time I’ve been the android--”
Cap then proceeded to steal the fork he just gifted Tony, and shoved a forkful of food into Tony’s mouth. Tony made a point to grumble, and Steve smiled at him long enough for him to have to comply. Hypnotism strikes again.
While digesting human food, Steve spoke up. “Can I um, ask you something?”
“Something else you mean,” Tony said between bites.
“Well.” Steve set his fork down. Tony eyed the instigating fork. “I’m not sure how this works in this daynage, but back in my day--”
“You had to walk fifteen miles to the store in the dead of winter without shoes. Sorry. Reflex, move your fork.”
“What I meant was…” Steve picked it back up. “When a guy likes a pretty dame- er, fella in this case, they go on a few dates before they decide to go steady.”
“That’s drawn out.” Tony tore into a powdered waffle. “And I’d make a gorgeous woman.”
Steve snorted. “But we kinda went backwards. Or forward now since we’re on step one. But since I’m not sure how people today do it… Are we going steady? And--” Steve quickly added. “If not, can we…? Y’know, go--”
“Steady. We’ve waited long enough, that’s for sure. Cap, this is incredibly old-fashioned.” The joke stumbled on its way out.
“Hey, I could have brought flowers.”
“Oh. You did that.” But Tony was stalling for things to say and Cap was hanging on his every word. How corny this all was, getting asked out but Captain America, who was just Steve Rogers. His Steve Rogers. “But, sure. Yeah. Let’s do it. I’m all for it.” A laugh escaped him.
“Great! I mean.” Steve cleared his throat. “Good.”
“Can I get you two anything else?” Barbie asked, eyes still wide on Tony and not Captain Muscles.
“Some flowers.” Tony said, lowering his shades and smirking at her. “If you don’t mind.”
* * *
“It’s like a double life.” Hawkeye’s voice echoed from above. Currently he hung from the ceiling pipes, legs hooked around the broad ventilation system. “By day, nurse. By night, astrologist.”
“Astrophysist. Eh, close enough.” Tony lifted another one of his - soon to be Clint’s - arrows and squinted. No imperfections, as usual. “Someone said she’d be early today. Forget who.”
“ ‘Tasha did. Think they said they were heading to the mall. That’s one trip I’m avoiding,” Clint grumbled. “Hate being the honorary bag carrier.”
“Same. The mall gives me hives.” Tony waved the arrow in the air and whistled. “Hey, check out this bad boy.”
“Are you calling me like a dog?”
“A bird, if you will.”
“Dick.” Barton dropped from his post, flipping himself on the way down and sticking the landing. He took the arrow and rubbed the shaft between his fingers. “So this one sends out supersonic waves?”
“Disorienting opponents and rendering technology obsolete. So don’t get any ideas, Barton.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Clint said with an unnerving smirk. “Unless you go rogue.”
“You couldn’t handle me rogue.” The rest of the arrows were in order, with some additions of course. Net expulsion, heat seeking, and a little dabbling with toxins.
“I’ll hold you to that Stark.” Clint hoisted up the set and hugged it to his chest, the sarcasm dulled by his eager tone. A kid on Christmas day.
“No can do buddy. I’m a chaste man.” Tony waved an arrow in his face. “Have to remove playboy from my resume.”
Barton snatched the arrow and added it to his lovely collection. “Where is Cap anyway?”
“Out of the country, had business in Europe.”
“More HYDRA?”
“Nope, definitely not. Like I’d let him have the jet.” Tony made Steve promise that it wasn’t criminal related. And even after they exchanged scout’s honor and Tony watched him leave, he still had the urge to track him. He could so do it if he wanted to, but there was that thing called privacy. Still, Tony did consider implanting a microchip under the Super Soldier’s skin but that may or may not be excessive.
“Made him swear to it,” Tony added with a cough. “He’s off seeing some friend.”
Clint’s eyes widened. “You mean--”
“I know what you’re going to say. Yes, a living friend.” Not that Tony nearly blurted out that same response to Steve, but he remembered that thing called manners. “So you wanted a combustible arrow?”
“Not combustible. Just one that catches on fire.”
Tony waited for a crack in Clint’s demeanor. He remained completely straight-faced. “O…kay.” | e898c452b4cd4007ae5053486f3a17b6 | ['25af2f36178c4889a52f0d17b77d708f'] | Fionna waved a hand, trying to catch her breath despite the broad grin on her face. “I don’t get it though, you two actually hit it off last night!”
Cake shook her head, hands on her hips. “Naw, that one-night stand had a bad ending coming from a mile away.”
“One night what?” Fionna turned to Cake. “What does a night stand have to do with PG and Marshall?”
If Marshall Lee wasn’t in a bad mood he’d cover Fionna’s ears and protect her from all the naughty things in Aaa. “Perceptive for a cat,” he said, bearing his fangs.
Cake’s tail fringed and she took a few steps behind Fionna.
“Anyway, I got the point. Gummy doesn’t want me around so I’m gonna make myself scarce. Not before having a little fun first…”
“Just take it easy, Marshall,” Fionna said. “Why don’t you and Gumball talk it out?”
“Talk? He threw me in jail!” The demonic side of him bled into his tone, cutting the air like sharp chords. “I tried to do my share of talking and I get a blade to the chest. The brat prince didn’t even look at me, like, like I was _a mistake_!”
The last sentence resonated within the cell, rattling the bars. If only Marshall had his axe bass, then he could attempt to make sense of the turmoil of emotions within. But he was empty-handed, and his fingers itched for the next best thing: for destruction. To break something fragile.
“Hey, keep it down over there!” a banana guard ordered a few paces down from the hall.
Marshall felt his fangs tear from his jaw as he snarled at the guard, eyes completely hollowed out. He felt a little better, watching the spear clatter to the ground as the guard ran away, shrieking.
“He doesn’t think that.”
Marshall whirled around to face Fionna, who had both hands covering her mouth. The shock of her statement deflated him back into his regular form. His chest ached from the transformation but in a few minutes he would be fully healed, and ready to break out. But in the meanwhile, he was genuinely curious.
“What’d he tell you?” he said, trying to sound disinterested.
“Oh no.” Cake threw up her arms, eyes narrowing at Fionna. “Fionna, you are _not_ about to get in the middle of this- whatever this is between Gumball and Marshall.”
“It was an accident,” Fionna more whined than stated. “Marshall, maybe if you just asked him—”
“Why? Sounds like he already tells you everything.” This conversation was dumb and pointless. Marshall floated over to the barred window, wondering where would be the best place to cause the most havoc. It was the least he could do to repay gum wad’s generosity. All he’d need is the right kind of cover.
One of the twisted towers caught his eye; with the right cloud cover he could pester all those passing on the nearby bridge. It’d be perfect. Marshall wasn’t sure when this building came to be but he mentally thanked whoever designed it. Glob, it’s like this place never stopped expanding…
“You’re not listening to me, are you.”
Marshall glanced back, finding Fionna with her arms crossed. “Yeah I was,” he quickly said.
“Then what was she talking about?” Cake chimed in, also with her arms crossed.
Casually, Marshall shrugged a shoulder, though their stares were a little unnerving. “About how much you love me.”
“This is what I’m talking about, Marshall! He can’t talk to you if you won’t listen.”
“Got it, it’s my fault.” The cell suddenly felt small, stifling even. This was turning into a lecture real fast and Marshall wasn’t about to be scolded on an issue too close to home. He maneuvered to the window as the sunlight dimmed with the shade of an impressively large cloud. “I’m gonna go have some fun. Don’t wait up.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Cake hissed, eyes quivering. “It’s about to get ugly in the Candy Kingdom.”
“It’s cool, Marshall is in a jail cell so we have some time—”
“Actually, I was waiting for my nip to heal up, and it’s just about healed… so…”
Marshall Lee began growing, losing his humanistic features as fur lined his skin, nails and teeth lengthening and sharpening.
“Just wait five minutes, Marshall!” Fionna said as she and Cake bolted for the stairs. Whatever Fionna was going to do, Marshall Lee could care less. If gum wad saw him as a nuisance, then who was he to go against the norm?
* * *
Bubba Gumball would have considered his Biannual Fall Candy Kingdom Ball a success. Royal blues, mint greens and turquoise gradients conveyed the cooling weather of the latter year. The multi-tiered tables of cakes, pastries, cookies, pies, soufflés, brownies, the list went on really, but ultimately all were complimented throughout the night. While the prince ensured that the guests were well, and relations between figure heads were maintained, Peppermint Maid coordinated with all of the staff behind the scenes. And of course Prince Gumball specifically asked Fionna and Cake to guard the castle from any unwanted visitors, mainly Ice Queen.
Which is why now, as he stood before the mirror, Prince Gumball saw every grey blotch on his skin as a mark of his own shortcomings. Just today alone he overslept, created a minor scare by not being in his bed quarters, and _he just happened to be found with Marshall in a linen closet._
Looking back, Prince Gumball could’ve prevented a scene if he didn’t shout for the guards. But his panic drew out a response before he could rationalize the situation. Glob, it must’ve looked bad, and the gossip would surely spread like wildfire…
Just like the blush that crept up his neck, brightening the gray bites to a healthy pink for the moment. |
371cbd6287d74519838289ac9c1df544 | ['25bf191fc3a14f4185a4c6e75b2a55b5'] | Trevor sputters out a laugh that sounds suspiciously like an especially tearful wheeze.
“A little?”
She steps on his foot. It can’t possibly hurt him, but it’s more of the principal of the thing at this point. He wriggles an arm out from between them and for one terrifying second, Sypha thinks she said the wrong thing again—that Trevor is going to push her away— _ please, please don’t… _ But instead, he carefully settles the arm around her shoulders and squeezes her back.
All the air leaves her lungs in one big sigh. Quietly, they recover and breathe together.
After a moment, “I can’t _ believe _ you thought I was _ thirty.” _
* * *
It is not them who finds Alucard, in the end. Instead, he finds them.
Embarrassingly enough, Sypha and Trevor’s master strategy for finding Alucard consisted of the two of them picking a random direction, walking in that direction, throwing open every door they found along the way, and calling his name repeatedly and loudly into each room.
He finds them in the grand hall (how they made it all the way back there, Sypha has no clue, this place is a maze) and says nothing. He just smiles at them and laughs a little under his breath. Trevor bristles and rolls his eyes, but Sypha is just… she’s just glad to see him.
The front doors to the castle are still open and the sun is rising outside, painting them all in pale, luminous shades of yellow and blue. Sypha turns to Alucard, smiles. _ I may not be fast enough everytime, but I’m damn well always going to catch up to you, _ she resolves. For a moment, the three of them exchange no words. They simply stand, shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the morning sky. Behind them, their thin shadows overlap, elongating and becoming virtually indistinguishable.
Touch comes easy to Sypha. The thing people tend to miss about it is that it is a language all its own. People tell just as many stories by the way they move through the world as they do with their words. And, like any language, the language of touch is one Sypha prides herself on having studied. Even more so, it is a language she is fluent in. As a people that live by the art of communication and the value of storytelling, Speakers have an openly affectionate culture. It only makes sense. Speaker children are taught to live their lives understanding the importance of stories and histories in all their forms. A companionate embrace manages to say just as much as an oral tradition. There is a history in and of itself in the way a mother holds her child, in the way a friend reaches for another, in the way enemies reach out to hurt each other. Sypha understands that she is a particularly tactile individual given her upbringing. But it has never failed her. Sometimes (and maybe this is blasphemous for a Speaker, but Sypha can’t be bothered to care) the simple act of touching someone just says _ more _ than words ever could .
Perhaps this is why she finds herself reaching for Trevor’s hand and winding an arm around Alucard’s shoulders.
Alucard tenses underneath her arm. She studies him carefully for a moment. Although no longer visibly injured, he has looked better. His skin and clothes are filthy, his hair is matted and tangled, and his eyes are suspiciously red and puffy. He looks so profoundly unhappy and so desperate to hide his unhappiness at the same time. _ He’s lost so much. _ She squeezes his shoulder and holds his gaze gently until his facade cracks. His smile is frail and tragic. However, as they maintain eye contact, the tension ebbs away from him and he begins to lean into her touch.
They walk, all three of them together, towards the threshold of the castle. United, they stand and watch the sun rise over a country they have saved, savoring the moment for a long time. Something warm and knotted deep in her chest begins to expand.
Sypha holds on to each of them, tightly.
* * *
Alucard leads them to a bath somewhere on the second (or maybe third?) floor of the castle. If she was being honest, Sypha had expected to find a rather nice bathroom with a bathtub that would perhaps be large enough for her to fully extend her legs in. It is a castle, after all. And Dracula was an exceptionally tall man. However, she was not expecting to find an entire bath-house with one large, open tub big enough to bathe up to fourteen men at once.
She thinks her jaw hits the floor with an audible snap when it drops.
The bathroom is one large room free from doors, long curtains, or walls. The large, rectangular tub sits sunken into the ground in the center of the room, framed by the glistening marble floor. The marble composes not only the flooring but the walls as well, giving the entire space an overwhelmingly clean and sterile feeling. An ornate golden chandelier filled with artificial _(electric_ , Alucard had said) lights is mounted proudly in the center of the ceiling. The crystals that decorate the chandelier dangle like water drops, suspended in the air. There appear to be benches in the water of the actual tub, though it is hard to tell through the steady cloud of steam that emanates effortlessly off of its surface. Some sort of mechanical system seems to be heating the large tub, judging by the pipes that run along the walls and disappear into the floors. There are sets of cabinetry along the walls as well as benches and movable, rigid dividers that appear to be Eastern in origin. Interrupting the flow of the cabinetry is the occasional oval-shaped mirror resting in an ornate silver frame. | 1b9b4a0754a94d5ca892b25b8f6d7d2f | ['25bf191fc3a14f4185a4c6e75b2a55b5'] | Later, alone, long after their usual run morning run together, Steve finds himself in his apartment feeling vaguely sunburned by Sam, just Sam, nothing but Sam in his senses and he is dizzy for the rush of it.
(He finds himself in the company of Sam, his magic so thick and potent in the air, and is struck with unbearable guilt. With Sam, there is _chase_ where with Bucky there just _was,_ his magic so inextricable from Steve himself that to draw a distinction would be to remove his shadow, to cease to breathe. Sam's magic, however, he feels in the breathless thrill of combat and the weightlessness of his feet leaving the ground, even for an instant.)
Sam is a supernova with his wit and his charm and his looks and Steve feels like he’s burning.
(It doesn’t feel anything like luck.)
Maybe that could be a good thing.
***
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the thing about prejudice, Steve,” Sam tells him one morning over stale gas station coffee. Sam makes a comically disgusted face at the first sip before sighing, resigned, and continuing to drink it anyways. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“It wasn’t like that, when we were kids. Buck was _showy_ with his magic and the gals loved it. He would do coin tricks with it, you know. He'd ask someone to guess heads or tails and he’d bet against ‘em every time. Had them toss. Came up as Buck said it would every time. Not one person ever cringed or called him… anything. It was entertaining. Charming. How does something change like that for so many people so fast?”
They’re two weeks into the search for Bucky, two weeks since the fall of the hellicarriers and the _end of the line_ and the bruises around Steve’s eyes are still yellow and the bruises in Steve’s mind are aflame with _who's Bucky, who's Bucky, who's Bucky?_ and his sketch books are filled with nothing but his longing and his rage cast in graphite and ink. ( _Look at me, chasing after you, oh how you would have laughed at that_ ).
This morning there was a story on the local news, a fourteen-year-old girl stuffed in a school locker and left there overnight by some classmates. The newscaster, a plain man with a plain voice and a plain face, read the girl’s statement to police dispassionately, “ _They thought I used my magic to cheat on a big test we’d had… They called me dirty…a cheater…_ green _. I thought they were going to kill me. I was gonna' die in there.”_
Steve watches as Sam finally gives up on the coffee. “People are horrible to each other,” Sam says, simply. They’re both tired in their bones, now. ( _I did that to you,_ Steve thinks and he dreams of supernovas and snow, if he dreams at all, these days.) Steve listened to Sam shift restlessly all night in a half-awake stupor, again. ( _I did that to you_ and the guilt is so rotten on his tongue). Sam, god love him, doesn’t mention how red Steve’s eyes are.
They don’t bring up Luck Magic again.
***
> Type A.D. Magic, ( _See Index 3 for full classification)_ , Aptitude Magic, commonly known as "Skill Magic" or "Ability Magic", deals primarily with a subject’s innate and remarkable skill in a specialized area. For example, a subject with Type A.D. may have an unprecedented athletic prowess. Notable historical figures who were Type A.D. were Steven Grant Rogers (Captain America) who was a WWII hero whose magic manifested in his hyper-realistic artwork, and Albert Einstein whose magic manifested in his mathematical accomplishments. An estimated 4 in every 11 people are Type A.D. (Based on the latest international 2010 Magic survey by the Reiknson Corporation).
>
> From _The Encyclopedia of Magic Types: Oxford Edition_
>
2. Sam
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This chapter is a little shorter but the next one will be much longer, I promise!
Organic magic was always strong in Sam’s family. His mother had come from a family where an aptitude for organic magic flowed thick through their veins, as thick as their blood. It was coded into their DNA. His mother inherited his grandmother’s flower shop who in turn inherited it from her mother and so on and so forth. Some of his earliest memories are of his mother’s warm hands, sticky with aloe, tending to plants in that very store. His mother would hum and the plants would seem to hum in response, a joyous, pleased thrum bursting with life. There was always soil under his mother’s fingernails and there is always soil under his, even as short as he keeps them nowadays.
Even on the hunt for a lost WWII hero turned brainwashed Hydra assassin, there is still dirt under Sam’s nails. There is life everywhere. Even in the dingy motels they stay at there is life. (A tangled weed curls out of a large crack in the ancient asphalt. Dandelions, still yellow, reach for the sun. At a distance, they are small puddles of sunshine gathered on the hot pavement. Sam passes by them and crouches down to run his index finger and thumb reverently over their stems, a small smile stretching his lips. When Sam straightens, he catches Steve staring at him with an indiscernible look in his eye. Steve is smiling.)
(The flowers are smiling too. Not literally, of course. But they open a little wider, their hue is a little brighter, and there’s a few new buds that have just begun their slow creep out of the cracking road.)
...
> _ Herbalists, botanists, holistic healers, gardeners, florists and more! The benefits of _ _ ORGANIC MAGICS _ _ are just as luscious as the products this active class magic produces! From sweet, rich teas to incredible winding gardens to rival even that of Eden, _ _ ORGANIC MAGIC _ _ is filled with possibility! _ |
cbb1a0a2a10e4ab593e39c5104a357c6 | ['25c056eff5ad442cab0b8934dba04f85'] | They sat quietly in the front room, their voices unusually silent. They both knew what day it was, and what the next day was, and the day after that too.
“Jade,” Rose said, to break the silence, “I was thinking about the lake.”
Jade nodded, and got a little closer, getting up out of her seat and coming over to sit on the chair arm. It was something she shouldn’t really do, but she did it anyway, because Rose looked really nervous.
“Hey,” Jade said, “I was thinking about it too. It’s nice up there.”
Rose looked down at her lap, and Jade put a hand on her shoulder.
“We can go there today if you want,” she offered, “It’ll be cold, but kinda nice.”
Rose looked up, surprised.
“Are you quite sure?” she said, like she didn’t believe it.
“Yeah,” Jade said, giving Rose a reassuring shoulder squeeze, “Just let me get my coat and stuff, I’m not doing anything else right now.”
It was decided, and Jade led Rose through the trees to the lake, the old way she used to navigate, the summer that they met.
“Don’t forget to stomp on the roots,” Jade said, “So they know not to mess with you.”
Rose laughed, a hand covering her mouth, but did as she was bid.
They went to the far side of the lake, where the rock was, and Jade told Rose about how she’d talked to the boy with fire in his mouth, and then pushed him into the lake. Rose laughed, but then grew a little quiet, and leaned to look into the lake depths.
“I wonder what happened to him,” she said quietly.
Jade didn’t know what to say, so she kicked a stone from the grass into the lake. A black bird settled on the rock, unafraid and watchful. Rose regarded it with a long stare.
“Thank you,” Rose said, turning to face Jade. Her hand rested against the rock, gripping the edge, and Jade started to wonder what happened to him too.
“I’ve been meaning to say that for a while,” Rose added, “But as you know, deeply emotive and honest phrases are not my forte.”
“That’s okay,” Jade said, “I’m sure you meant it before anyway.”
Jade took a step closer, and another one, until she was very close to Rose indeed.
“I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” jade said plainly, her hands curling up into tight, nervous fists.
Rose leaned back against the rock, but her hands reached out to grasp for Jade’s. Her thumbs found the edge of her fingers, and eased them out straight.
“Well,” she said, “Perhaps this is the right time.”
Jade nodded, and pushed her glasses back up her nose with a little click.
“Okay,” she said, and inclined forward to kiss her.
Rose’s mouth was soft, a lot like the most incredible thing in the world, but mostly that was Rose. Her hands slipped away from Jade’s grasp, but soon found another place, nicely at her waist, and Jade’s arms found right where they needed to be too, right on Rose’s shoulders.
They paused when they realized they had quite forgotten breath, and Jade gave Rose a nervy, happy smile. She got one in return, a coy one, with a glint to match in Rose’s eye.
“I love you,” Jade said.
“I love you too,” Rose said, and looked left and right, as if she thought somebody might be watching.
“I’m glad you do,” Jade said, her brow wrinkled with relief.
“I’m staying,” Rose said, “It is finally decided upon.”
She gave Jade another smile, one that was nervous but definite. Her hands lifted to touch Jade’s arms, sipping down to her wrists and resting there.
“I’m really glad about that, too,” Jade said, rolling her eyes with bemused belief.
Rose nodded.
“That time when you said I could do anything I wanted,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully, an eye on Jade’s face, “I know what I wanted. And I’m glad we’ve been friends so long-”
Jade nodded, slipping her hands around to catch Rose’s and lift them up closer to her face. She admired every freckle, and then nudged up a little closer.
“Yeah,” she said, “That’s awesome, but can we kiss again?” | e49e8d571e8146cf98187c689eb122f1 | ['25c056eff5ad442cab0b8934dba04f85'] | “Are you still here?” the voice happened again, and Jade was jolted out of her reverie. She stayed still, and closed her eyes in the hope it would make it stay longer. There was another splash, this time a bigger one, and a series of suspicious and very close thumps. A dark shape came across Jade's eyelids, blocking out the sun. It waited, very patiently, and Jade held steadfast, fighting her eyelids to keep them closed.
The shape above her sighed, and Jade let out a breath she didn't know she was keeping. They stayed in companionable silence for what seemed like an age, but was probably only a few minutes. A drop of salty water splashed on Jade's nose, and she sputtered, opening her eyes.
Above her, although upside-down, was a face, belonging to a pretty girl. She had short, pale hair, held close to her head with a headband that seemed to be made of woven seaweeds of several different kinds. She had skin the colour of bubblegum, or perhaps a little darker, a midway mix between blue raspberry and the reddish pink of squashed strawberries, covered over in splotches. Her eyes, though, were lavender, and pale, and kind of unsettling when they stared, which was definitely now. Her hand was hovering over Jade’s face, about a foot away.
“Hi!” Jade said happily, lifting a hand to shake.
The girl's mouth ticked up at either side, not quite a smile, but moving toward it. She grasped Jade's arm, and gently pulled on it.
“Hello,” she replied, and waved Jade's arm from side to side in her grasp, as though she was not quite sure what to do.
Jade made a move to sit up, and the girl turned bright green all over, like summer grass before the sun dries it out. She shuffled backwards at an alarming rate, letting go of Jade and moving rather rapidly without really using her hands.
“Wait!” Jade protested, still only half on her elbows, “Don't go, we've only just met.”
She raised herself to look properly at her new friend, who by that point was dangling half over the bank by their arms on their way back to the water, their lower body hidden. They looked suspicious and wary, the dark lines on her neck shifting and expanding like gill-slits for more air as a bright pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips.
“Why should I stay?” she said levelly, her grip beginning to slip, ever so slowly.
Jade reached for her without thinking, putting her fingers around her wrist and holding it tight. Her skin was smooth but not like Jade's, and strangely textured, and just a little damp.
“Because I want to be friends,” Jade said, “And if you go, I won't give you this book.”
It was not Jade's book to give, since it came from a library, but she was in need of a bargaining chip.
“Why would I need that?” the girl retorted, though her other hand (The one not being held) was starting to give.
Jade cast about for a good reason.
“To learn,” she said, “To find out new things,” she continued, “And to prepare yourself against Nuckelavees.”
“I suppose that's fair,” the girl said, “If they ever do come back to this town.”
Having read quite a lot about them, Jade's face pulled into a disturbed pout.
“I hope not,” she replied.
The girl nodded, digging her fingertips deep into the earth to pull herself back up. She landed with a bump in an ungainly sprawl, rolling onto her hands and pushing herself up to match Jade's face.
Her legs, Jade noted at the time with surprise, numbered far more than two. She was a lot more like a sea creature from her hips downward, a mostly-slack bundle of fat tentacles that she rolled into bunches to prop herself up with, smugly.
“You're taking this pretty well,” she commented, as Jade scrambled forward again, pushing her glasses further up her nose with a click, “You still shouldn't be here, though.”
Jade nodded, reaching back without looking to grab the book and open it, offering up the pages to the girl.
“Do you have a name?” she inquired.
3. Chapter 3
“My mother called me Rose,” the girl replied, folding her arms. No longer green but back to her original lavender and purple, she waited for Jade to nudge up next to her, tilting her head to admire the illustrations.
“I can't read this,” she pointed out.
Jade thought that was frightful, and said so.
“I cannot read the languages of man,” Rose said, in that same dry tone that she'd first warned Jade in, “Nor do I want to. Read it to me.”
Jade gave Rose a level stare over the rims of her glasses.
“That's stupid,” she said, “And not wanting to learn new things is double stupid.”
They bickered on in such a manner for quite some time, with in-between half-hearted attempts at learning the alphabet, until the sky turned orange with the setting sun and Jade recalled that her grandfather would worry.
“Um,” she started, “Can I come see you tomorrow?”
Rose shook her head.
“No,” she said, “It's dangerous here. I'll come to you.”
Jade opened her mouth to protest, the book on the ground, and Rose reached forward, to grasp Jade's free hand. She knew what a handshake was by then, and gave it one with good vigour.
“You'll know it's me,” she said, reassuringly, ending the handshake with a squeeze before she dropped it, “I'll meet you after school.”
4. Chapter 4 |
5862fcf5945c40099e001ee565202239 | ['261dd98d2f864d71be26c8e80be7c084'] | Hullabaloo
“Alright. Ready?” You ask, turning to look over your shoulder at the red demon waiting just behind you. He looks nervous but behind that is a mix of eagerness and excitement. It’s absolutely endearing and you can’t help but smile when he gives you a nod as confirmation. You watch as his eyes glance down to the fabric in you hand, his beautiful golden gaze taking in the movement of your fingers against it.
It slides between your fingers, the fabric soft against your skin and holds a slight stretch to it as you pull gently on it, showing it off to your partner. Though something tells you that he’s not interested in the fact that it’s soft nor if it stretches. He’s got other things on his mind.
You step closer to him and even just a few inches away from him you can feel his warmth. You absolutely love it. It makes you feel safe and loved, which is something that seems to be hard to come by nowadays. His gaze moves to your face as you lean in to wrap the fabric around his waist, crossing it behind his back before pulling it over his shoulders. This is new to both of you, well, as far as you know. You hadn’t really asked Hellboy about his experience in the matter, but with what little he claimed to know about other things pertaining to it you just assumed that he didn’t. Which was fine. You two could learn together.
Crossing the two corresponding pieces of fabric, tucking them then looping them behind him again you smirk. “Decide on your safe word yet?” You get a huff in response, a small lopsided smile accompanying it. “Same as the usual one, babe.” You had started with one, but that was mostly out of courtesy for you as HB had been afraid of hurting you, which was touching, really. But you’d been through a lot worse than a rough round of sex. However you ended up giving in and gave him one anyways, which he ended up finding ridiculous and has mocked you for it ever since. Not harshly, of course. But he’d take any opportunity he had to work it into your conversations. The most common use was when you two would exchange ‘I love you’s. Instead of saying it in return he’d mutter ‘Hullabaloo’ -your safe word- then kiss your forehead, smirking, while you playfully punched his shoulder. You knew how stupid it was, hence why you’d chosen it, but with the way things were going you’d need to think of a new one because if HB kept up with his teasing you’d find it more endearing than silly.
You place a kiss on his cheek before bringing the fabric pieces back in front of him and tying it off. “That wasn’t so bad.” He started, drawing a smile from you. “Not done yet.” You wink before turning away to grab the next item. You carefully pick it up and move back towards Hellboy, watching him watching you. You notice that he’s starting to look nervous again, so you take his hand and ask again if he’s alright. He nods again, though the nerves don’t fade as quickly as they had moments ago, you slowly begin the work of tucking the small package into the wraps.
Hellboy is scarily still during this whole process. It’s a first in your eyes. “Still okay?” You ask cautiously as you slide a little foot into the pocket you’d made with the fabric. He grunts quietly and glances to you then to the little body now sitting against his chest. You watch him as you pull up the band of fabric below her bottom to secure the little one into place. “There.” You smile as you take a step back and look on at the sight of Hellboy with a little girl snuggled against his chest, his hand protectively underneath her for support. “You can let go.” You giggle as you watch him contemplate for a moment before he starts to, cautiously, take away his hand. She stays put and Hellboy smiles, eyes only for her. “That wasn’t so bad.” He repeats, though in a softer tone so as not to wake the baby. “No, but you should try childbirth.” You joke, moving closer to him to wrap an arm around his waist and lean into his side.
Hellboy slides his arm around your shoulders with a chuckle before placing a kiss on top your head. “I’ll pass.” | c2a5f96ed6df430fbb401cf148599708 | ['261dd98d2f864d71be26c8e80be7c084'] |
1. Chapter 1
After another particularly stress filled morning, you find yourself tucked away with a cigarette between your lips. You’ve only just picked up the habit and are sure there’s better ways to get stress out but you hardly have time to pursue them. However you can afford five minutes a day to light up and puff a bunch of toxic chemicals into your lungs. You decide not to over analyze it any further though and light your smoke. It’s absolutely heaven. Your nerves begin to unfurl, your mind clears and you tell yourself, after another pull off your cigarette, that the potential risk of cancer is definitely worth it.
You’re about halfway through your smoke when an infamous red half demon stomps his way around the corner. Part of you wants to ask if everything is alright only you’ve never really had the chance to talk with him before. Sure, you’ve heard all about his heroics and shenanigans but you’ve never really been introduced due to the amount of paperwork you were constantly buried in. However you’d always hoped the day would come when you could properly meet.
Anxiety flared within you as his steps faltered upon noticing you. “Uh, Hi..” He started, seemingly unsure of how to go about doing whatever it was he was here to do. “Hi.” You greeted in return, exhaling the smoke from your lungs, eyes roaming over him as he tilted his head back the slightest bit with a curious look about him. You couldn’t help but notice how cute it was; like a dog when someone mentioned the word ‘treat’. “Didn’t realize this was such a popular spot.” You smile and tap ash into the cup you’d brought with you to use as an ashtray. “Neither did I.”
What you failed to notice was that Hellboy was taking you in as you were him. Something about you caught his attention and he was keen to find out what exactly it was. “Mind if I join?”
You nod, obviously, because you’re not about to turn away the legend himself. You pat the ground beside you and say. “Be my guest!” He smiles but continues to watch you with that curious look again. You try your best to ignore it but something about the way he does it sends a shiver down your spine. “Y/N L/N” You greet with a smile as you take another pull of your smoke, eyes connecting with his. “I’d tell you mine, but something tells me you already know it.” You giggle at the comment and nod again. “Hard not to know; Your kind of a big deal around here.”
It was his turn to chuckle as he pulled out his cigar and placed it between his lips. “BPRD’s Star.” He adds a bit lacklusterly and you shake your head with a smirk. “Not all it’s cracked up to be?” Hellboy glances at you then proceeds to light his cigar, inhales and then exhales the smoke. “Could say that.”
Time ticks on and you never did get to ask him what seemed to have him so rattled, but you did get to know him a bit. However with your break over you had to return to work. “Well, it was nice to finally meet you, but I gotta head back to work.” He hummed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”
Waving goodbye, you head back to your desk. But unbeknownst to you, a pair of golden eyes lingered on your retreating form. “Y/N L/N, huh?” He thought aloud, tapping the ash of his cigar into the cup Y/N had left behind.
2. Chapter 2
It’d been a few days since you’d met Hellboy and you had to admit that the demon left quite the impression on you. He hadn’t been like anything you’d expected him to be, but then you weren’t entirely sure what you had expected him to be in the first place. And even if you had been sure then it was entirely possible that you expected him to be, well, demonic and some kind of vicious. Which was insane because you knew what his intentions were. Well, for his line of work anyway; he was a hero after all. You just had no idea of his private agenda.
You go about the rest of your day sorting paperwork and scribbling down information from translated texts and the like until you start to feel like you’re going to break. Your head aches and that paper cut you gave yourself ten minutes ago is still stinging like it was fresh. Then again sanitizing it with hand sanitizer probably wasn’t your smartest move.
Somehow you manage to sneak out of the office and head towards the hangar for a quick smoke break only to find the red man himself seated on the floor, cigar between his lips. “Well, long time no see, Y/N.” He smirked and you smiled. “Missed me?” You ask as you move to take your place beside him on the ground.
Hellboy’s smirk falters, heart stammering his chest at the comment. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he really had missed her. However he knew how bizarre that sounded with them only having just met each other the other day. “You caught me; I’ve been waiting here this whole time for you.” So he decided to make it a joke.
You turn to look at him, smoke halfway to your lips, with a look of skepticism before realizing that it was a joke. Even though you really wished it wasn’t. “Good one.” You giggle lightly at it then place the smoke between your lips. “Had I’d known you missed me so much I would’ve made an effort to come down earlier.”
“You’re forgiven...” He starts as he crosses one leg over the other. “This time.” |
aa17a31a7b564343abea2a66062237d9 | ['2637f00ef1994dd6a335185b64111881'] | “Millie?” he called out, pulling himself out of his warm bed and walking into the main room. “Millicent?” There was no sign of the orange ball of fur anywhere. Hux was struck with immediate anxiety. What if burglars had come in the night and all they wanted was his cat? Cat burglars? Hux shook his head, exasperated at his still groggy, half asleep thoughts.
It was then that several things happened all at once. Hux looked up and spotted the open window across from him, a series of loud crashes sounded next door, followed by cursing and… miaowing?
Hux raced through the door and across the grass, vaulting over the short gate and knocking loudly on the door of his next door neighbour. It opened the second Hux’s knuckles came away. Hux stepped back, startled as he came face to face with a man in a welding mask. There was a moment of silence as the two looked each other over.
Hux let his eyes flicker to just behind the man, looking into his flat curiously. The place was dark and slightly cluttered. There were no pictures on the walls but there was that horrendous motorbike in the centre of the bloody living room, tools scattered over the tarp the thing was parked over.
Hux was distracted from his observation when a wildly purring Millicent was suddenly in his face.
“Is this yours?” the man asked, holding Millicent out at arm’s length. Hux was struck with an odd but overwhelming feeling of familiarity but shook it off, nodding curtly to the man.
“Thank you. I apologise for any damage she may have caused.”
Hux grabbed her from the man’s outstretched arms. She squirmed slightly, adjusting her position to stare at the masked man.
“No… uh… no harm done,” the man stuttered slightly, closing the door with a nod.
Hux walked back to his flat, closing his own door behind him and setting Millicent on the couch. He closed the offending window and sighed.
Where had he heard that voice before?
……...
Sunday arrived much too quickly for Hux’s liking and he found himself sitting in Mitaka’s car in utter silence. Mitaka had indeed been quite punctual, arriving at precisely 19:01. Hux was briefly tempted to slam the door in his face for the extra minute but thought better of it. Now he wished he had.
Mitaka treated him like a lady rather than himself, opening his car door for him and even offering his arm to lead Hux to what seemed to be a restaurant; Starkiller Base.
Hux ignored Mitaka’s incessant babbling all the way to their reserved table, his eye twitching in annoyance when the man insisted on pulling out his seat for him. Hux let his eyes wander the area, bored out of his mind as he tuned out Mitaka’s chattering. His eyes suddenly locked on a familiar form and he sat up a bit straighter.
Kylo Ren was slumped in a seat across from an older looking man. They seemed to be deep into a rather one-sided argument, the older man having a difficult time getting Ren to listen. Hux watched surreptitiously as the argument turned into a fight, Ren beginning to put more and more into it until he and the older man were staring each other down and growling in each other’s faces.
Abruptly, the older man’s face changed. He whispered something to Ren and the young man recoiled as if struck. He stood, his entire form rigid and enraged. He gripped either side of the table, flipping it with what could only be described as a roar, and running out of the restaurant. The older man pulled out his wallet, dropping a sizable bundle of cash onto his chair, and racing after Ren.
………
Hux had to physically force himself to hold back a sigh of relief when the date seemed to be coming to an end. Mitaka paid for their meal and drove Hux home, silent the entire way back. Hux tried not to rush too urgently to his door, almost groaning in frustration when he felt a hand on his elbow. He barely had time to react when he was yanked back around and a pair of lips assaulted his.
Hux froze, his eyes wide open and his entire body tense. Mitaka’s hands began to wonder, moving to his back and slowly downwards. There was a sudden loud crash from next door, startling Mitaka out of the kiss. Hux took the opportunity to retreat into his flat, slamming and locking the door.
He dragged his arm across his mouth as if attempting to erase Mitaka’s presence from his abused lips. Hux registered the violent sounds of more crashing and banging and breaking from next door. His neighbour must be really pissed tonight. The sound seemed to shake Hux’s walls.
The supposed outburst lasted for hours, stopping rather abruptly at precisely 01:02. Hux sighed and closed his eyes, finally able to fall asleep. He distantly heard the sounds of a motorbike revving but he ignored it in favour of the blessed darkness that came with rest.
………
Hux arrived at the gym in the morning, well rested despite the long night. He pushed open the door of the changing rooms and was immediately met by the sight of Kylo Ren, shoving his things into his locker angrily.
“Christ, Ren. How long have you been here?” Hux questioned. Ren jumped, slamming his locker and turning to face Hux. If Hux had managed to startle the other man, he’d most likely been there for quite a while and was probably exhausted.
“None of your business,” Ren spat, straightening his jacket and making to leave.
“You know, I saw your performance at the Starkiller,” Hux stated before he could stop himself. He watched in a peculiar mixture of satisfaction and foreboding as Ren’s form went stiff. | e669702267e24efaa369536106cb7295 | ['2637f00ef1994dd6a335185b64111881'] | Bruce chuckled as he allowed Tony to drag him to the Science Lab where they stayed for the next hour before their free period was over.
………
"Ok. This is a mission which requires the utmost stealth and secrecy," Clint stared seriously. "Operation Second Odinson is a go. The object of this mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to catch a glimpse of some fine blonde brother booty." he paced back and forth in front of Natasha, Tony, and Bruce. "Getting caught in our endeavours to spot a little Norse Hunky Man bod will result in-"
"Clint, if we wait any longer you might finally hit puberty. And nobody wants that," Tony snarked, stepping out of the impromptu line. Clint pouted momentarily before following Tony.
He grabbed Tony's shoulder as he was about to turn the corner. "Hey! Careful asshole or we'll be seen!"
"Clint. We attend school here. We don't have to sneak around just to see-"
"Thor's coming!"
"Shit! Duck!" Tony exclaimed, pulling them down. Four pairs of eyes watched carefully as Thor Odinson and his posse of jocks exited the school, talking loudly as per usual.
The rowdy conversation ceased as a figure on a black motorbike approached.
_'Black jeans, combat boots, green jacket… ACDC t-shirt…'_ Tony thought. He felt a weird sort of jump in his stomach.
"Is that him?" Bruce whispered.
"Yep," Tony responded confidently.
The motorbike pulled up beside Thor and the figure removed his helmet. Long black locks tumbled down, stopping at the strong but delicate shoulders. A pale, angular face shone in the midday sun and two acid green eyes flashed.
"Woah. He's… not at all what I expected…" Natasha admitted. Clint stared dumbfounded at the slim pale boy greeting Thor.
"How the hell is he related to Blondey Mc-Manly Man?!" Clint hissed.
"Brother," Thor greeted. Sif and the Warriors Three, as they were titled by the wrestling team, stared disapprovingly at the black haired teen on the motorbike. He simply smirked and flicked an inky strand of hair over his shoulder.
"Are we ready to go?" Thor inquired, oblivious to the happenings around him. The boy nodded and handed Thor a red helmet from the storage compartment, pulling on his own green helmet and flipping down the visor. Thor waved to his friends and they were off, flying out of the school parking lot at a near dangerous speed.
Tony, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint exited the bushes they had been taking cover in, an odd mixture of emotions showing on their faces.
"That was… odd," Bruce stated.
"He couldn't have been any older than Thor. Why isn't he attending here?" Natasha asked.
"And what the hell happened with their genetics? He looks more like Snow White than Boramir," Clint commented.
"Tolkien references? You are such a nerd," Tony stated. Clint blew a raspberry at him.
"Shut up. You do Science for fun."
"Science is fun," Bruce interjected. Tony whooped.
"Science Bros for life!"
Tony and Bruce fist bumped as Clint began to throw pencils at them.
"Alright alright. Boys. Cut it out," Natasha ordered firmly, still not quite able to hide the small amused smile curling her lips. "Now that we've seen the brother we need a plan of action."
"Nat's right. I say we have a Round Robin at Tony's place. To plan of course. Certainly not to just eat his food," Clint supplied, feigning innocence as Tony shot him a half assed glare.
"It's fine with me but what are we plotting?" Tony inquired, looking to Natasha.
"We're gonna get you and him together. Project Frostiron is a go!"
"Frostiron?"
"Yeah!" Clint replied. "Cause you're Iron Man and he's Snow White!"
Tony rolled his eyes. "Why not Project Iron Maiden?" he offered Clint snorted, crossing his arms.
"This is not debatable, Stark."
………
6. What's in a Name
The next few days at school passed easily for Tony, planning with the gang just how to execute Project Frostiron. Tony secretly decided to change his nickname for the boy, if only to spite Clint. He'd only been sent to the office twice this week, a record he felt deserved celebration. He was at that moment walking to the courtyard to meet his group when the familiar silhouette of Steve Rogers captured his attention.
"Hey! Rogers!" he called before really even thinking.
"Erm... Yes Stark?" asked the shy quarterback, staring at the elusive teenaged tycoon confusedly.
"You and Thor Odinson; you two are buddies, right?" he pried.
"I... I guess? I mean we work together and study together sometimes but..."
"Where does he work?" Tony said with an incredibly straight and serious expression before he could stop himself. Steve stared at the genius, slightly perturbed by his odd question.
"Um... The Marvel Cafe. Why?" Tony didn't reply. He simply stood there, a grinch-like grin spreading across his face. "Erm… Stark? Tony?"
"Yeah. Thanks Captain Tight Pants. That's all I needed." Steve scrunched his nose at the nickname and nodded, continuing on down his path, probably going to the office to help Maria sort paperwork.
………
Tony sat in a chair beside Bruce and Clint, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Tony?” Bruce said, his brow creased slightly with worry. He waved a hand in front of his friends face, jumping back when Tony grabbed his wrist.
“I know how to find him.”
The occupants of the table stared at Tony oddly, a mixture of worry and confusion.
“That came out creepier than I had intended…” Tony commented. “I meant that I asked Rogers where Thor worked. I have a plan.”
“Erm, Tony… How about we hold off on the pebble throwing balcony scene until you actually know his name, yeah?” Natasha offered, an immaculate brow raising.
“No. Hear me out, Nat. I heard from a, ahem, reliable source, that Thor the Golden Boy is in need of a bit of math help. I’m going to offer my services.” |
d9ddc3155b744ea3b5cd7b00a436b14a | ['263bb57a88734aa8aa8de158aff8ba18'] | “Makes sense, I guess,” Chris shrugged. He would share a room with everyone here if it meant he could get to that room right now and get some sleep.
“Quinto and Pine?” Mikkael barely had time to get Chris’s name out before Zach was right in front of him, taking the card from his hand in a ridiculously prolonged manner that resulted in maximum hand-to-hand contact. Mikkael’s eyes widened for a minute and he blushed slightly. “Here you are, Mr. Quinto.”
“Room 903,” Zach observed out loud, maintaining eye contact with their guide.
The blond man responded with a wry smile. “My contact information is there in that packet, including my mobile number, just in case you need it for… scheduling information.”
Zach grinned at him seductively while a few black vans bearing the hotel logo pulled up alongside them. He made a point to remove Mikkael's card from the folder and and slide it into his front pocket.
“Hey Romeo,” Chris called to Zach while he loaded his bag into one of the vans. “Are you going to give me my room key or are you keeping both?”
Zach turned away from watching Mikkael walk off toward his car. “What? Oh, sorry, here.” He handed Chris his key while he hopped up into the seat next to him.
“Kudos on your restraint for not jumping Thor there in front of everyone. Could you have eye-fucked him any harder?”
Zach scowled at Chris. “Oh please, it was just harmless flirting. Like you don’t give your puppy-dog eyes to every pair of boobs that gives you the time of day.”
Chris laughed at that one. “Touché, you got me there.”
Their van left the airport exit road and merged onto the highway, heading toward the city center. Chris tucked his knees up under his chin and leaned sleepily against the window, watching the sky darken and the orange lights of the cityscape zoom by. He was trying to make out the mountains in the distance when the next thing he knew, Zach was shaking his shoulder to wake him up and the van was parked in front of a brightly lit hotel lobby.
“I can’t believe you slept the whole way here!” Zach exclaimed as they climbed out of the van and retrieved their bags from the trunk. “You missed all the sights. You could even see the mountains in the distance before it got too dark.”
“I don’t think the mountains are going anywhere,” Chris yawned, wheeling his suitcase through the lobby doors and towards the elevators. “I’m sure they’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You really need to develop more of an appreciation for travel, Pine.” He shot Chris an exasperated look while the younger man pressed the elevator call button. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Probably somewhere in my suitcase. I’ll look for it in the morning.” Chris knew he was being a little too short with his friend, but lack of sleep always made him grouchy. He was honestly happy to be rooming with Zach for the next two weeks, because even though he occasionally got on his nerves, they had become close over the last few years and Chris had really grown to enjoy Zach’s company. He made a mental note to buy Zach a beer sometime soon to apologize for being such a jerk.
The elevator doors opened in front of them with a ding. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Zach asked. “Can you take my bag up to the room with you? I’m way too wired to go to bed just yet, I think I’m going to hang out down here in the hotel bar for a bit.”
“Sure, no problem,” Chris grabbed Zach’s duffle bag and hoisted the strap onto his shoulder. “You know I’d normally join you, but… I really need to get some rest.”
“Thanks, man. I guess I’ll see you in the morning?"
“I’ll make the coffee,” Chris smiled, turning to step into the elevator and press the button for their floor. Before the doors closed he watched Zach walk across the lobby to the small-ish bar across from the check-in counter and immediately sidle up to a tall thin man in tight black jeans. Chris chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Zach certainly doesn’t waste any time.
2. After Midnight
The neon blue numbers on the alarm clock next to Chris’s bed told him it was only 1:15. He rubbed his eyes and grumbled, feeling around in the dark for his traitorous phone that had woken him up by loudly vibrating itself off the nightstand. His fingers found it on the rug next to his bed and he clicked on the screen to see who he was going to have to murder for calling him this late.
_One missed call: Mom (cell)_
“Ugghh, learn time zones, Mom!” Chris groaned, turning off his phone and flinging it to the other side of his plush king-sized bed.
He rolled over to go back to sleep and noticed a light was on outside his bedroom door and was shining faintly around the doorframe. Zach must be back from the bar, Chris thought to himself. He decided to go out to the kitchen for a drink of water and to let Zach now he’d put his bag in the closet, in case he was looking for it. | 4e745b5020414cff893177fcfb577c3b | ['263bb57a88734aa8aa8de158aff8ba18'] | Zach smiled awkwardly, looking down at his beer while he felt his face grow red. He tried desperately to think of anything he could change the subject to, but the only thing on his mind was a loop reel of Chris’s sexy battered face and bruised body.
“Oh my god,” Chris declared with exaggerated offense. “You actually like it, don’t you? Zachary, are you _turned on_ by seeing me looking like I just got the shit kicked out of me?”
Zach cringed and looked up at Chris, unable to deny it but too embarrassed to admit it, and Chris only laughed.
“That’s fucking hilarious,” he exclaimed. “You’re into some messed up stuff, Quinto, but seriously, who isn’t? We all like stuff we’re embarrassed about. If you ever saw my browser history you wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye for weeks.”
Zach couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of that, wondering what Chris could _possibly_ be into that could scandalize him that badly. “Oh I have no intention of ever looking at your browser history, don’t worry about that. There are some things I just don’t need to know about you. Besides, it’s probably all a little too hetero for my tastes anyways.”
“I don’t know about that,” Chris murmured right before downing his beer and jumping up from his seat. “I’m going to go grab another beer. Want one?”
Zach blinked, his brain still trying to process what he thought he just heard. “No, I’m good, thanks,” he managed to mumble before Chris left their booth. Zach watched him as he leaned on his elbows on the bar, reading the tap list, and he could swear that Chris was intentionally standing in such a way that his perfect tight ass was directly in Zach’s line of sight. _Fucking tease,_ Zach thought to himself, shaking his head as he saw Chris glance back at him over his shoulder and wink.
\---------------------------
Zach wasn’t due on set the next day, as his scene for the week had already wrapped, but he was able to drum up a reasonable excuse to swing by the studio anyway with the hope of catching a glimpse of Chris. They hadn’t stayed out at the bar too late because Chris had an early morning, but for the short time they were there Chris never again mentioned his brief quip about his porn tastes being not quite so hetero. Zach decided to let it go and didn’t ask him about it, but the thought remained on his mind along with the ever-present image of Chris’s beautiful face covered in bruises and scrapes.
When he wandered into the studio where Chris was filming that day, on the _Vengeance_ set, Zach’s immediate reaction was mild dismay when he noticed that Chris hadn’t been made-up to look nearly as bloody as the day before. From the look of things though, they were only re-doing a handful of sequences, none of which seemed to involve heavy close-ups on Chris, so they’d probably just decided on minimal make-up to save time. Zach couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
Zach greeted the crew and settled into an empty chair off to the side of the room, flipping through his copy of the script for appearances, but spending much more time staring at Chris than the pages in front of him. Chris and Benedict were doing part of their fight scene and they seemed to be having an issue with the camera angle, because J.J.kept stopping them, readjusting their positions, and restarting the scene. The angle had to be just right because they were shooting the scene in a way where from the viewpoint of the camera, it seemed as though Ben was punching Chris, when in reality his fist went an inch or so to the side and never really made contact. Sound effects and post-processing would make it so that in the finished product, no one would ever know the difference.
It was almost comical to watch Ben faux-punching Chris over and over, as the camera angle had to be continuously adjusted. Each time Chris would hurl himself backward at the “impact” of Ben’s fist, and it was one of those actions that just looked absurd in repetition. Zach was giggling under his breath as he watched J.J. instruct Ben to “hit” Chris for what must have been the tenth time, then call action. Benedict, as Khan, strode up to Chris/Kirk and pulled back his fist, but then something must have went wrong, someone must have moved out of position, because instead of swinging through empty air Ben’s fist connected squarely with Chris’s face, sending him crashing backward for real. In shock, Chris lost his footing and stumbled backward off a step at the edge of the set, losing his balance and falling into a boom operator, taking them both to the ground in a tangled mess of sound equipment.
“Jesus, Chris, I am so sorry!” Benedict gasped, running over to help Chris and the poor sound guy up off the ground. “I’m so sorry, Chris, I didn’t mean to..”
As soon as he saw it happen, Zach had jumped up from his chair and dashed across the room to the set to get to Chris. He helped him up as Ben and the small crowd that had formed assisted the boom operator in between hovering over Chris with concern.
“Are you ok, Chris?” Alice exclaimed, hopping off the set to run over and examine his face, along with a small crowd of crew members. J.J. looked like a worried mother, covering his mouth and demanding to know if his star was going to be fit to keep shooting. |
7a2f21bd8a774d46af82c20b4bb35c1b | ['263e45f7da1d458a8914a684f83e2aba'] | What was he thinking? Standing by as Crowley bullied the single most attractive guy in the high school was certainly not one of Dean’s finer moments. He was wearing this blue tie that brought out every shade in his amazing blue eyes, and was loose enough to awaken thoughts in Dean that made him blush, but the look in those beautiful blue eyes when he looked at Dean, made him wish that the ground could just swallow him up. Watching Crowley hurt him made Dean’s blood boil, he wanted nothing better than to give Crowley what he deserved, a solid punch in the face. But, he managed to restrain himself even when he slammed his head into the locker and made Castiel wince in pain. Later, in bio when Crowley decided to throw paper at the kid Dean knew he had to step in.
“Dude, that’s enough. Lighten up.” In response, Crowley wadded up another projectile and launched it, laughing with Meg and the rest of his gang.
“I’m serious. Stop!”
“What are you going to do about it?” challenged Crowley. Dean lost it and grabbed the jerk by his ear pulling him closer, he said,
“I will only say this one more time: leave. him. alone.”
“Okay! Geez!” replied Crowley rubbing his ear, “What’s your deal?” Dean pretended not to have heard this as he turned to face the front of the class room.
At the end of class Dean tried to stall his friends to give Cas time to get to his next class without running into them. He succeeded for the most part, except for Crowley yelling a rude name after him down the hall. Dean survived most of the day without thinking about Castiel and his sinfully tight jeans. Until last period when his world crashed down around him.
**Cas:**
After rushing out of first period with little incident other than Crowley yelling, “fag” after him as he left, Castiel made it through the day without running into Crowley and his gang. Mostly because Cas was in all AP classes while Crowley, was lucky to have passed freshman bio. His last class was AP Literature, and as he took his seat and gazed around the room at his peers, he was surprised to meet the piercing green eyes of Dean Winchester. He knew that Dean was smarter than the rest of the jocks but he was somehow stunned to see him in his class. He took his seat and carefully avoided looking at the gorgeous boy behind him. That was until the teacher walked in and announced that they would be doing a project on their summer reading, “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven” a collection of short stories by Sherman Alexie about life and the effects of life on an Indian Reservation.
“I will pair you up and you will write three two page analyzing one of the major themes throughout the book, I expect good writing and quotes to support your assertions. Now, I will read off the list of partners.”
At this point Cas zoned out. Seriously? Six pages on the first day of school? He knew that Mrs.Van Allen had a reputation for being overly hard on her AP students but he had no idea that it would be this bad.
“Castiel Novak,” Time to say attention,“and Dean Winchester.”
**Dean:**
Dean looked up at the sound of his name and after a few seconds realized that it had been called in association with Castiel Novak’s. This could not get any worse, he was sure the guy hated him. Which was bad enough considering Dean’s strong feelings of attraction towards him, and now he would be forced to endure spending time with the guy he has pining after. Glancing around the crowded classroom, Dean eventually made eye contact with Castiel and the look of horror in those eyes made Dean feel as though the world was against him.
“Alright, I will give you the next twenty minutes of class to meet with your partners and discuss your plan for this assignment, it will be due on Friday.”
The sound of chairs screeching and students catering immediately filled the room, as people began to move to sit with their partners. The only person in the room not moving was Catsiel, apparently he assumed that Dean would come to him. Dean reluctantly obliged.
“Hey, Castiel.”
“Hi”
“So I was thinking of focusing on either the theme of Alcoholism, Storytelling, or Tradition for our project. What do you think we should do?”
Dean thought it would be best for his sanity if he just focused on the project. He didn't think he could survive any glares from the same eyes that haunted his fantasies. Luckily, when he looked up he was met with no such glare.
“I think those sound like great ideas. I can create a Google doc for us to work on together if you want.”
“Sure, that will work well.”
And that was it, no snide remarks, no glares, Cas didn't even mention the incident form earlier in the hall. Cas was just such a sweet and genuine person, which totally sucked because it only made Dean’s insane crush on the guy more justifiable.
**Cas:**
As soon as the bell rang, Cas was rushing out of class. He couldn't bear the feeling of those deep green eyes on him any longer. He hated his crush on Dean, it was incredibly inconvenient. As soon as class was over he collected his things and rushed out, not wanting to spend one more agonizing second dreaming about those eyes and that hair.
“Goddamnit! Why can’t he just notice me?!”
Was the tune that began to play over and over in his head.
“This is never going to happen so I think I just need to let it go.”
Replied the voice of reason in the back of Cas’ mind. | 947b9ca2b476442090f3e00dd72832c3 | ['263e45f7da1d458a8914a684f83e2aba'] | Being the dedicated student he was, Cas started the google drive document as soon as he got home. He wrote a quick outline before running to the kitchen to grab a snack. When he got back to his room, bag of popcorn in-hand, Dean had logged on to the document and was already working on his portion of the project. Cas knew that is was unfair to assume that Dean would be a slacker just because his friends were, but he was nonetheless surprised to find that Dean was working on the project so soon.
Cas opened the chat function on the document and typed, “hey :) thanks for getting started so fast!” And began regretting it the second he hit enter. He was surprised to find, however, that Dean began to type and sent a reply within seconds:“haha, no problem. i get it, i like to get my work done sooner so i don’t have to worry about it” Cas chuckled a bit to himself at this and replied: “i am the same way. good to know i am not alone.” Cas stared anxiously at his screen waiting for the reply to come. “Hey sorry about Crowley today, he can be a real dick. i didn’t mean to just stand by and watch, but you know how it is to stand up against your friends, especially him.” was the reply. Cas decided that it wasn't a very good excuse, it sucked actually, but it was admirable that he was at least addressing the issue. Cas replied quickly with, “thanks for the apology. not to be rude or anything but, why are you friends with him?” Within seconds the reply came, “idk, i guess i just feel like as his team-mate and childhood friend i have a responsibility to him.” Cas was taken aback by the frank reply he received. He decided to tell Dean a similar story about a friend he had sophomore year.
The conversation just kept flowing, The two had more in common than anyone, especially themselves, could have guessed. They talked about family problems, friends, school, life, death, and everything in between. Cas felt like he was connecting with someone in a way that he had not done in years. When he finally took a break to check the time it was already 3:00 AM. “holy Crap! dude, look at the time. i gotta go, cause i have to leave my house early in the morning to get to school. see you tomorrow in English. i think this project is going to be awesome.” Cas sent Dean. “okay, sounds good. Night! See you tomorrow” Those words danced around Cas’ head for hours until he finally drifted of to sleep with the pesky knowledge that he was going to have a terrible morning.
* * *
The next morning Cas awoke not to his alarm, or to the smell of breakfast, or to the sound of his mom calling to him from downstairs but to the delightful smell of his mother’s morning coffee breath 3 inches from his face yelling, “For the last time: GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED!!” Cas opened his eyes and swatted her away, at the same time glancing at his clock: 8:00. Class started at 8:10 and it took Cas around 15 minutes to walk to school. (He still hadn't quite saved up enough to buy a car.) He sprung out of the bed as if it had been set on fire and ran to the bathroom.
“You don’t have time for that this morning.” His mom yelled after him.
Cas knew she was right so he sprayed deodorant in each armpit, glanced in the mirror, cringed, threw his computer in his back-pack and ran down the hall yelling over his shoulder, “Thanks for getting me up mom, you really left me some wiggle-room to get ready.” Before she could protest, Cas was out the door and jogging to the school.
**Dean:**
Dean was exhausted from staying up so late the night before and stumbled into class like a zombie, meriting several glances from his classmates who assumed he was hungover. He shuffled to the back of the classroom to sit next to Crowley.
“Dude, you look like ass. What happened to you?”
Was the first thing he said to Dean as he approached. “I was up late with my homework.” Dean replied hastily, not missing the knowing glances that the rest of Crowley’s gang exchanged. Dean instantly groaned when the teacher entered the room, it was too early to do math.
“Class, we are starting on page 23 in the textbook. There you will find,” At that moment the teacher was interrupted by the sound of the door being flung open and a chorus of low giggles from the members of the class.
Dean looked up to meet the eyes of a very frazzled looking Castiel Novak. And damn if he had never looked hotter. His hair was disheveled and messy and made Dean think very unholy thoughts. He was wearing a t-shirt that hugged his chest in the most perfect way possible. Don’t even start on the sweat pants, they hung off him perfectly, allowing those sinful hipbones to peek out from under his shirt. Dean wanted nothing better than to pin him against the nearest wall and do things to him that were certainly inappropriate for the classroom environment. To make matters even worse, Cas decided to take the seat right in front of Dean, giving him the perfect view.
Throughout class Dean couldn’t help raking his eyes up and down this boy’s perfect body, which was creating to be problem between his legs. Unfortunately for Dean, Cas happened to turn around and look at him, mid eye-fuck. Cas’ eye’s seemed to widen as he turned back around and he did not look back again for the remainder of class. |
53da0c7993824d83877fa8969cac1707 | ['2648ade4931341bd994942aa528f7dd0'] | At this, Rantaro slowly circled his finger around Kiibo’s artificial entrance and slid one inside. Kiibo whimpered at the strange feeling. “That.. feels strange..”
Rantaro chuckled. “It will feel better soon. I promise.” He reconciled, beginning to slide his finger in and out of Kiibo. Kiibo’s whimpers loudened as he began to feel pleasure arising. Just as he was getting used to it, Rantaro slid a second lubbed finger inside.
“Ah!” Kiibo squeaked, causing the smaller of the three to snicker quietly. But, nonetheless, tried to calm him down by caressing his sides. Kiibo let out a soft sigh at the feeling of such gentle touches, but deeply groan when he felt Rantaro’s fingers begin to scissor inside of him.
As Rantaro was prepping Kiibo, Kokichi decided to prep himself as well. He reached over and grabbed the lube bottle and applied some to two of his fingers. Leaning over some, he slid the two fingers inside and began to deeply finger himself, moaning loudly.
Hearing Kokichi’s moans made Kiibo’s fans kick up more. They were so attractive and cute. He loved them. Kiibo bit his lip, trying not to let himself get too carried away. That’d be so humiliating!
Once Rantaro was finished prepping Kiibo, he slid his fingers out and removed his boxers. _“Ooh!_ We’re getting to the good part now, Kiibabe!” Kokichi giggled excitedly, pulling his fingers out.
Rantaro lubed his cock up and lined himself up with Kiibo’s entrance. “Are you ready for me to enter?” He asked softly in order to reassure that everything was going to be okay. Kiibo nodded, still not wanting to say anything in fear of embarrassing himself.
Rantaro then slowly slid himself inside. Kiibo’s eyes widened at the unusual sensation. “Wow! Your asshole is taking him like a champ! Nishishi!”
Kiibo loudly gasped once he felt Rantaro’s cock fill him up to the hilt. As soon as Kokichi noticed that Rantaro was fully inside, he hovered himself over Kiibo’s cock and slowly slid himself down. _”Mm! Yes!”_ He tilted his head back.
“You.. You can move now.” Kiibo blushed as he assured Rantaro that he had gotten used to the feeling.
Both Rantaro and Kokichi had began moving. Kokichi, however, faster than Rantaro. Rantaro was being slow and gentle as to not hurt Kiibo. Kiibo threw his head back at the two different stimulous. He bit his lip and grabbed Kokichi’s hips. Kokichi blushed brightly; he hadn’t thought Kiibo was going to do anything, so this caught him rather off guard.
Rantaro began to progressively speed up his pace. He let out quiet grunts as he gripped tightly onto Kiibo’s hips, thrusting into him deeply; the sensation felt so good to him. Who knew robot sex would feel so good. Kokichi could secondly agree on that. As he was a panting, moaning mess, moaning the two’s names as if they were chants. _“Ah!_ Kiibo, _fuck!_ Fuck me harder!” He whined. Kiibo had eventually caught on, and was now bouncing Kokichi by his hips.
“Shit!” Rantaro cursed under his breath, getting closer to his climax. Kokichi caught on and pulled off of Kiibo as Rantaro turned Kokichi on his side; one leg up on his shoulder as he continued pounding into Kiibo. “Ah!” He moaned out. He felt so lewd for making such sounds, but he couldn’t help himself. “Please! More, Rantaro! _Please! Ah!”_ He squeezed his eyes shut in pure desire.
Rantaro quickly pulled out and jacked himself off, cumming onto Kiibo’s face. “Ooh! Hot!” Kokichi smirked and ushered Rantaro out of his way so he could finish the two off.
Kokichi reinserted himself, continuing where they left off. This time, Kiibo had enough freedom to both bounce Kokichi by the hips _and_ thrust his hips up into him. _“Ah! Kiibo!”_ Kokichi loved how dirty Kiibo had gotten with just one sex session. He loved it in every form.
Kokichi gasped. “I’m gonna cum!” He bounced himself harder and faster, getting closer and closer to his climax. “Me.. too!” Kiibo panted between words, getting close himself.
Kiibo yelled out as he reached his end, “cumming” into Kokichi. This caught Kokichi off guard, but nonetheless, it still felt good inside of him, causing him to yelp out a small moan as he came.
The three cleaned up and laid in bed together, telling eachother how well they did. It was surely a lovely night. | ef4a6ef7b55b47d4b2ae422f73c98b81 | ['2648ade4931341bd994942aa528f7dd0'] |
Unique Characteristics
Breakfast was unusually quiet today. Everybody was eating in silence; forks clinking, chewing noises, and occasional slurps. Oh, and also Kokichi’s sounds of aggravatingness. Was he okay? He seemed really anxious and angry. Well, were those really the right words to put it? Kokichi was growling and biting on his nails, obviously anxious about something. But, what?
Nobody seemed to notice him even though he was really loud. Kiibo perked up and politely asked if he was alright, but was harshly yelled at. “Shut the fuck up, Kiiboy! I’m fine, you dumbass robot! Like _you_ would know about human emotions!” Kokichi growled, his voice deeper than usual, and he had gotten even more angry than he had been previously and left without another word, stomping out and slamming the door shut behind him. Was he going to be alright? There was definitely something wrong and Kiibo knew it, whether he was a robot or not.
Everybody was staring at Kiibo as if he had done something wrong. “Huh W-What?” He frowned. “Did you really think you were going to get a straight answer from _him?”_ Asked an annoyed Rantaro, an eyebrow raised in blatant curiousness. Kiibo said nothing and only frowned even more in response, looking down at the table as if he were ashamed with himself for just _caring_ about the dictator.
Outside, Kokichi whisper-yelled for Monokuma, his anxiousness rising. He began to scratch at his arms almost in a panic. Monokuma was taking way too long to get here, whereas, another time he’d be here in an instant.
Kokichi raised his voice a bit and out came Monokuma. “What?! What do you want?!” He huffed, obviously having been in the middle of doing something and was rudely interrupted by Kokichi.
Kokichi thought about his request and cleared his throat, “I need some cigs. Can you do me a simple favour and get some for me? Or are you too pathetic of a robot like Kiiboy?” He smirked, obviously manipulating Monokuma to his face. Kokichi had a bit of a smoking addiction and since he’d been at this place, he was having pretty bad withdrawal symptoms. He’d get irritated easily, he was constantly tapping, and he just overall felt like shit.
Monokuma laughed at Kokichi’s daring request. “Suuure! Why not! But! No smoking inside! Outside only!” Monokuma demanded. Kokichi rolled his eyes, but complied. “Fine with me.” He flashed Monokuma a wide-eyed smirk before quietly walking back to his dorm, expecting his requested item soon, and he really didn’t feel like being pestered by everyone this morning.
Despite Kokichi’s insults and rage towards his concerned inquiry, Kiibo was exceedingly worried about him. Kokichi had been acting quite odd these past few days, Kiibo noticed. He seemed.. more irate than usual, whereas he usually didn’t get easily aggitated before. Did something happen? Was he having some kind of problem? Thoughts kept rolling through Kiibo’s mind, his worry increasing tremendously by the second. He certainly had to check on the leader. There was something wrong, and he needed to help as best as he could. Even Kokichi has problems; everyone does. Though, Kokichi is rather annoying and irritating, Kiibo couldn’t take seeing him struggle like this. It was Kiibo’s duty as his friend to help him in situations like this, whether Kokichi seen him as his friend as well or not.
Without another thought, Kiibo stepped out of the dining hall and glanced around. Where would he have gone? Somewhere secluded probably. He walked toward the dorms, concluding that Kokichi probably went to his room, as anywhere else he would have eventually ran into someone. Opening the doors, he headed up the steps to Kokichi’s room. Taking a deep breath, Kiibo knocked firmly a couple of times. He heard a voice from inside.
“Oh? That was fast.”
Kiibo could practically feel the smirk on Kokichi’s face.
Kokichi, rather excitingly, opened the door, his face plastered with enjoyment until his eyes were met with artificial ones. “Oh. It’s just you.” He grimaced.
Without even being let in, Kiibo walked inside. “Hey! Excuse you! This is _my_ room, you idiot!” “Yes, that is obvious.” Kiibo made a sound as if he were clearing his throat and turned around to face an annoyed Kokichi who had just turned around from closing the door. “Is there something you would like to talk about, Kokichi?” Kokichi raised a brow and made an irritated face at Kiibo. “What the hell are you even getting at?!”
“You seem.. more aggitated lately.” Kokichi growled, noting that Kiibo _was_ right, he _had_ been more aggitated, and there _was_ something wrong. “Would you like to talk about it? Maybe I can help.” “Fuck off and leave me alone!!” Kokichi practically screamed at him, causing Kiibo to flinch at the sudden shout. “I just wanted to help. I.. Will leave.. Sorry..”
Kiibo quickly left, on the verge of tears. Holding his face tightly as to not let any tears leave his eyes before he got to his room, he ran inside and slammed his door shut, tears immediately falling in copius amounts. Collapsing to the floor, his back against the door, he began to cry. All he wanted to do was help, and he got screamed at for doing something nice. It wasn’t as if he were expecting different, but he wasn’t expecting _that._ With all these feelings coming to rise, he wondered, did he have feelings for Kokichi? |
dc7844495b024ff98ae279d334a97888 | ['265256968ab444fdb1443b6564cf3485'] | Mycroft cleared his throat to interrupt the moment. “Irene, you know the rules,” he stated. “If Sherlock doesn’t go, you don’t go.”
“About that,” she turned to address Greg. “I hope you don’t mind, but he’ll be riding with us to prom.”
“ _Sherlock_?” both Mycroft and Greg asked in shock.
The man in question strode quickly down the stairs in a black suit and tight purple shirt underneath. “Let’s go,” he called as he walked out the front door. Irene grabbed Greg’s hand and followed him. “Goodnight Mycroft. Shouldn’t be too late. Don’t wait up.”
Greg turned quickly with a wave and shouted, “Nice to have met you.” Mycroft could do nothing but stare in (what could have possibly been the first time ever) shock as he watched Sherlock, Irene and her date climb into one of their luxury cars. Catching a small smile on Sherlock’s face as he slid inside the car, Mycroft knew he was going to meet John Watson. He prayed that if Sherlock had to discover the truth about John, it didn’t happen tonight. He wanted Sherlock to have just one night of happiness. But Mycroft never was a man to have his prayers answered.
* * *
John was waiting in front of ballroom entrance, staring at the poorly made banner above. It read, D _oyle Academy Presents: A Night of Star-Crossed Lovers._ How appropriate, he thought. Though he had only known Sherlock a short time, John knew what he felt for him. Sherlock was brilliant and gorgeous and (even though it was never on purpose) funny. John felt he could never be apart from the mad man. So, when Sherlock had called John to let him know that he would meet him at prom, John decided that tonight would be the night he would tell him.
Sherlock walked up the stairwell leading up to the ballroom, taking in the mass of people and tacky decorations. He had never been one for social functions, but Irene had convinced him to come and he desperately wanted to see John. He couldn’t name what he felt for him, but he knew that it was special. Every moment he wasn’t with him, Sherlock thought of John. Lately it seemed as if his heart beat to the name _john john john_. Though he was apprehensive at first, he decided that he was just going to let go of his inhibitions, and embrace the fact that John wanted him and that he felt the same. When he reached the ballroom entrance, he caught sight of John leaning against the banister looking both casual and nervous at the same time. Turning his head, he saw Sherlock and a huge grin took up his face.
“Hello.” They both said at the same time.
John looked Sherlock up and down, staring at his skin fitting suit and shirt. He licked his licked his lips unconsciously before remembering himself. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you.” Sherlock said as he took in the way John’s navy suit made his eyes pop and his hair glow gold. “You as well. Where did you get a suit last minute?”
“Oh, just something I had lying around.” John shrugged.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rose. “For you” he said presenting to Sherlock, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “Too much?” he asked. “I thought a corsage might be a bit silly, seeing as-”
“It’s perfect.” Sherlock stated abruptly, placing the flower in his front suit pocket. He kissed John lightly on the cheek.
“Good.” John blushed bright red, smiling. He took Sherlock’s hand in his and lead him into the ballroom. It was already crowded with dancing couples and tables. The DJ was setting up as the small band on stage took a break. “Shall we?” John asked gesturing to the dance floor.
Sherlock shrugged. “Lead the way.”
They made their way through the crowd and started dancing slowly, before becoming familiar with each other’s steps. As the songs continued, they danced circles around each other, holding hands and hopping around. John would laugh when Sherlock would try to whisper deductions about their peers, and Sherlock would laugh when John bit his bottom lip trying to concentrate on his moves. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, they had to stop, when the DJ announced their would be a short break.
“Thirsty?” John asked. Sherlock nodded and John went to grab them some punch. while he waited for a turn at the punchbowl, he looked around and saw Greg and Irene dancing closely. He smiled, happy that it worked out for them. He considered Greg after all that he and Molly had done to help him. John got their punch and made his way to Sherlock who was sitting at a table, waiting. On his way, John caught sight of Molly, who was snogging Victor Trevor in a corner. _Well that explains that,_ he thought as he placed Sherlock’s punch in front of him. He sat down next to Sherlock as they sipped their drinks in silence, catching their breaths.
John tried to subtly roll his shoulder, which was sore after dancing for so long. He didn’t want Sherlock to notice, but of course he did. Sherlock gave him a small smile, which wasn’t one of pity but of adoration. John reached across the table and entwined their hands together. He took in a deep breath, ready for what he was about to tell Sherlock. “It was a gunshot,” he rambled out.
What?” Sherlock asked confused. | 5541cba61f0647fcaa8a85a5c3d43f63 | ['265256968ab444fdb1443b6564cf3485'] | John considered this. He had never met Sherlock personally but he had a few classes with him. He had always thought that Sherlock was attractive, but from what he knew, the guy was an asshole. Nobody liked him. And John liked that. Sherlock didn’t care what people thought of him, and neither did John. Honestly, John would date Sherlock for free, but he didn’t like Jim and didn’t want to be doing him a favor.
“One hundred pounds.” John said.
“What? Absolutely not.” Jim would never spend that much on Sherlock. “Forget it!”
“Then you can forget his cousin.” Jim stared a John. Oh, he was good.
“Deal.” Jim stuck out his hand. “But I want results.”
John stuck out his hand not to shake but to wait. Jim got the hint. He reached into his pocket and handed John over his money. “You better be as good as you think you are.” Jim said, “If so, I’ll make you rich. If not, I’ll turn you into shoes.” With that he turned and left.
Turning to Stamford, John said “wish me luck,” and made his way over to Sherlock.
5. Chapter 5
_No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle._
_'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,_
_And now I find report a very liar;_
_\- Petruchio; Act II, Scene I_
John made his way over to where Sherlock and Victor were grabbing their gym bags. He tapped Sherlock on the elbow to grab his attention. “Hi there, handsome.”
Sherlock turned to John with a raised eyebrow. “Can I help you?”
“Yes actually,” John answered. “I seem to have lost my mobile number. Can I have yours?”
Victor was trying not to double over with laughter as his friend stood there, gaping at the blond. “Um, I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?” He grabbed his bag and walked towards the locker room.
Sherlock just stood there staring at John, with a look of confusion on his face. It was making John nervous. He hadn’t answered him yet. John rubbed his neck and stuck out his hand. “I’m John, by the way. John Watson.”
This seemed to snap Sherlock back to reality. “Yes, I know who you are,” he grumbled. “What do you want?”
John lowered his hand and rolled his eyes. “Do I need a reason to just come by and say hello?”
“Yes.” replied Sherlock sternly. He picked up his bag and walked away from John. What did he want, he wondered. John had never spoke to him before, why now? And why didn’t he seem afraid of him like everyone else. Sherlock’s thoughts were cut from his mind as John ran in front of him.
“Wait.” John said put his hands out to stop Sherlock. “I was wondering if you were busy Friday night?”
Sherlock considered him for a moment. “No.”
“Good.” John smiled. “I’ll pick you up say, eight-thirty?”
“I meant no, as in, no I won’t go out with you.” Sherlock side stepped him walking away for the second time.
John caught up with him again, frowning. “Why not?”
“You’re boring,” Sherlock said as if it was obvious.
“Boring? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you come from a home with an alcoholic sibling, and a military father. I know that you transferred here last year but won’t tell anybody why. Probably because it was something traumatic and probably that it has something to do with your injured shoulder. And I know that you want to be a doctor and join the military, following in your father‘s footsteps. So, like I said, boring.”
Sherlock stared at John, who was staring back, his jaw dropped. “How do you know that?” John finally managed to stutter out.
“I didn’t know, I saw.” Sherlock was a little stunned. Nobody had ever asked how he knew things. They always just called him freak and told him to piss off. “Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. So, obviously your father was in the military as boys tend to admire and follow their father’s attitudes. You often come to class smelling faintly of vodka but never seem to be drunk. You do however, always seem to be tired, so you’re up late at night taking care of someone who is drunk. Not your father, but it is someone close, so, a sibling.”
John still stared with his eyes wide, so Sherlock continued. “You always roll your left shoulder when you wake up in class, so you have a shoulder injury. But you I’ve never seen you without sleeves, so you probably have a scar. Traumatic injury then. It seemed to have bothered you more last year when you first arrived, so it was still fresh. Obviously the reason for your transfer. You always skip class except for your Biology and Anatomy classes that I shared with you last year, so your interested in science and medicine, so you want to be a doctor. You come from a poorer home, so you can’t afford university, meaning you’ll have to join the military like your father did to pay for school.”
Sherlock waited for John to scare off like everyone else and finally leave him alone. That didn’t happen.
“That,” John said, “was amazing.”
John watched as Sherlock seemed to soften in front him. “You think so?” he asked John incredulously.
“Of course I was,” John was in awe. “I’d never seen anything like it. That was extraordinary.”
Now it was Sherlock’s turn to stare at John. No one had ever called him extraordinary. He didn’t know what to do, or how to take a compliment. “It was nothing special,” he murmured.
“Well, I disagree.” John smiled and laughed. “So um, Friday night then?” |
8121496441c54d62b944b036dbb2c7e1 | ['2655b84629f342d89c9062646a19f678'] |
Passenger Seat
Kaminari had successfully learned very valuable information about his little(literally) crush. After countless lunches and quick talks after basketball games, Kaminari had learned that, Mineta seemed to like guys and chicks, he had cheer practice on Mondays and Wednesdays, he always needs a ride home from the practices, He seemed to be very vocal about his distaste that grape flavored things never taste like real grapes, and he somehow looked both cute and hot in his cheer outfit and during practice. Kaminari had taken all this information and decided to use it to his advantage, as he had taken over the job of driving Mineta home after cheer practice every week. He would use this to strengthen his ability to talk to Mineta without turning completely red and almost tripping on his tied shoelaces.
"Wow, you've really got it bad for this boy huh?" Sero piped up after Kaminari explained his plan. "I mean, I thought you would've at least have gotten the guts to ask him out already. Considering how you stare at him every chance you get when we're playing."
"Hey I have guts! I just...don't want to scare him off you know?" Kaminari began pacing the room as Sero scrolled through his phone mindlessly. "Plus you cant blame me for staring. I mean, if you got the opportunity to watch your crush bounce around with a cute smile on their face...waving their small cute arms around…listen to them cheer your name.…and look straight at you with those amazingly cute eyes and flash those super cute braces..." Kaminari then began to mumble a sweet slew of compliments about Mineta and all the ways the small cheerleader catches his attention from the side lines.
"Look," Sero said interrupting Kaminari's compliments that were starting to get frighteningly PG-14. "All I'm saying is you should try to ask him out instead of coming to me explaining how you plan to ask him out." Kaminari stopped his pacing, thinking of Seros advice for a moment.
"I got it!" The blonde boy said...well, more like yelled, after a few seconds. "After I pick him up from practice tomorrow I'll ever so casually ask him if he wants to get something to eat before I take him home. Sero I genuinely think I have ascended." Kaminari checked his watch to see if it was even remotely tomorrow yet. As it turn out, tomorrow was an hour away.
"Oh jeeze, it's 11:00 already? Hanta your mom must be freaking out." Sero then noticed the many many messages from his mom at the top of his screen.
"Oh god.….I gotta go Denki! See you tomorrow!" Sero grabbed his backpack and put on his shoes as quickly as possible. Before Kaminari could even respond Sero was out the door. He made a note to self to text him some time tomorrow morning.
Kaminari flopped down on his bed and thought about what Sero had said. He had guts, he wasn't afraid to ask out Mineta. Actually, if you think about it, it was quite the opposite. He was just stalling so Mineta didn't expect anything. He could probably text Mineta right now and ask him if he wants to go to Waffle House. He won't though. No, definitely not. That would ruin the surprise. Yea.
Kaminari nodded to himself, feeling prideful in his explanation. In fact, he'll casually send Mineta a goodnight text. Except, whenever Kaminari turned on his phone and saw the picture he and Mineta took with Mineta smiling brightly and Kaminari making a weird face on his lock screen he lost all confidence. Sero was probably right. As always.
\----------------------
Kaminari's heart was beating a lot faster than normal when he got to school and saw Mineta walking up to him.
"Morning Denki!" Mineta said once Kaminari was in earshot. "I have some good news!" Kaminari smiled to himself at Mineta's lisp. He had talked about how people used to make fun of him for it, especially with how many 's's are in the english language. Kaminari thought it was endearing though.
"Sure, what's up?" Kaminari replied shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgeting.
"Momo's girlfriend agreed to carpool the cheer squad home today so you don't need to drive me!" Mineta said with a smile. "You're always talking about your chores at home and since you probably waste a lot of time dropping me off I asked Momo if she had anyone and it turns out this girl Jirou, y'know the one who lives next door to me, is her girlfriend and she can drop all of us off in her van!" Once Mineta finished Kaminari was so in shock he couldn't move. He lost his chance, his future with Mineta was gone. It's all over.
Still, Kaminari managed to smile and laugh softly. "That's great Minoru! See you later!" Kaminari said trying to walk away before he embarrasses himself .
"Oh but, aren't we gonna eat breakfast together?" Mineta called after him.
"I'm not hungry right now! See you in 3rd period!" Whenever kaminari looked back he felt slightly guilty at the look on Mineta's face. Oh god, he just left him there. Standing there alone. That is, until another one of Mineta's friend's, Mezou Shouji, walked up to the small cheerleader and they started talking.
Kaminari had met Shouji the first time he sat with Mineta at lunch and he felt extremely intimidated. Shouji was tall. Like, really tall. He could carry Mineta like a baby, and probably had. Shouji and Mineta had been friends for a long while, and they were practically inseparable. Sero said he felt like Shouji felt an obligation to protect Mineta. The more Kaminari thought about it, the more sense it made. Mineta was the shortest boy in school, had a lisp, and he was a dude on the cheer squad. | 7cc6dc34e51b4a50b0307e95c3420d37 | ['2655b84629f342d89c9062646a19f678'] |
Kiss me till I fall asleep
Mineta never would've guessed he'd end up with someone like Shoji. The small boy had embraced the fact that he seemed to find many of his classmates attractive, regardless of gender, a long time ago. Hell, Shoji was one of the reasons he discovered his sexuality. Despite all that though, he still was surprised that, in the end, Shoji returned his feelings. The cool, strong Shoji, with someone as goofy and all over the damn place as him. Mineta expressed these feelings to Shoji, and was quickly reassured. Sweet words from the small boys much bigger boyfriend made his heart sing with love. Even after said encounter though, Mineta still had a hard time being close with his boyfriend. Until one night.
It was storming violently outside, loud burts of thunder echoed throughout the dorm rooms, and Mineta was terrified. The young sixteen year old had been afraid of storms since he was very young. He was often alone when storms occurred as a young child, so that just made the whole situation worse.
After being wrapped up in his blanket for a full five minutes, Mineta had decided to go look for someone to sit and talk to, at least until the storm stopped. He couldn't go to Sero, Kaminari, or Mina, then he'd run the risk of being teased or smothered. Which was a risk he wasn't willing to take right now. So, Mineta went to the person who always seemed to soothe him.
After sneaking around for a bit, Mineta knocked timidly at Shoji's door. It took a few minutes, the young boy was worried that may have knocked to softly. That is until he saw Shoji peek out from behind the door. Suddenly a loud crack of thunder filled Minetas ears and clutch his blanket tightly around himself. He didn't want to freak out too badly in front of Shoji. Still, Mineta stared up at Shoji with a pleading look. Thankfully, Shoji recognized this look, he had seen it on Mineta many times and it seemed to break his heart everytime.
Without saying a single word, Shoji stepped aside and let his small boyfriend walk into his room, shutting the door quietly. When he turned, he saw Mineta sitting on the floor looking tired, scared, and defeated all at the same time.
The tall boy sat next to his much smaller boyfriend and wrapped three of his arms around his shoulder, holding him close.
"Do...do you want to talk?" Shoji said quietly after a few moments of silence. Mineta put a small hand on one of shojis biceps.
"About what?" Mineta said leaning against his boyfriends arm.
"Anything you want." Shoji replied using one of his arms to run a hand up and down the small boys back.
" Well uh, I had a dream about you last night. " The dark haired teen said after a few moments of thinking. "You wanna hear about it?"
"That depends," Shoji said. " Would it be something you could talk about in public without making people uncomfortable?" Mineta sat there for a minute thinking.
"No, I guess not." Mineta began to trace his fingers across Shojis arm and a pleasant silence fell upon them. That was, until another boom of thunder made Mineta almost screech. Instead of doing something super embarrassing, he wrapped his small arms around Shojis much bigger one, heart pounding loudly in his chest. There was once again sadness in Shojis heart as he looked upon his boyfriend. His eyes were wide open, while also looking like they were fighting back the urge to squeeze shut. Arms wrapped so tightly around Shojis arm that if the purple haired child got even more terrified Shojis arm might of gone red. The poor boy was absolutely terrified.
"Hey, Minoru," Shoji whispered softly. Minetas eyes darted up to look at the platinum blonde, responding immediately to his first name. Shoji slowly adjusted Mineta so that he was now in his lap, moving his arms so now their fingers were simply locked against one another. The new, much more pleasant position in Shojis opinion, was completed with Mineta leaning his head back against Shojis chest.
"Now," Shoji said while rubbing his thumb in small circles across the top in Minetas hand, "Would you like to tell me what about all this makes you so on edge?" The way Shoji asked really made Mineta feel so much safer just then.
"If I said no, would you be upset?" Mineta asked Shoji after a few seconds .
"Of course not." He answered, "If you could tell me what makes you feel safer though, I feel that this whole experience will be much better." He felt his boyfriend put a hand on his thumb, signaling Shoji to stop moving it, which also indicated he was thinking. He always found it harder to think when someone was touching him, especially Shoji.
"Well, um when I was young I would take some pillows and surround myself with them. It made me feel safe and protected." Mineta shifted a bit to look up at Shoji. "Do you think you could arrange something like that?" Not even a full five seconds later Shoji stood up, Mineta carefully cradled in his arms.
Shoji set the pervy teen on the futon spread out on the floor, then proceeded to lay down next to him. Shoji then used his many arms to surround Mineta, using the arms that were closest to the small boy to hold him close to his chest.
The tall platinum haired boy felt a large grin spread across his face as heard giggling from Mineta.
"Wow Mezo, I didn't know you had that in you. Slamming me down like that! I truly thought you were trying to distract me from the storm in other ways." Mineta said moving back a bit to wink at Shoji. "Not that I would've protested." |
49e37d0739444c008cabcb39df24812d | ['2668a354b2d7430391db985f54db654f'] | Hwiyoung seemed perplexed at the fixation on that woman. “Well, not much, I’m afraid. At Treble, I worked with Departments four through nine, and at that time she’d already been moved to Department 2. Besides, she was on maternity leave for several months. In any case, I never spoke to her.”
Taeyong leaned even closer, intrigued. “Maternity leave?” he whispered. He remembered Chittaphon’s story about Sofia, his would-be daughter that he’d never met. Could it be . . . ?
“Yeah. She had a daughter. Named her . . . some English name, started with an ‘S.’ Never said who the father was,” Hwiyoung explained. “Nobody even knew she had a boyfriend. Apparently she mentioned a man at a point, a ‘Jung Sil,’ and people speculated it must be him. That’s all I know.”
“Sofia,” Taeyong breathed.
“Yeah! That was it! ‘Sofia,’” Hwiyoung said, dazzled. “She never talked about her much. When asked, all her responses were menial and seemed forced. It was weird. She definitely didn’t seem like a new parent to me. Regardless, it’s none of my business. Wait . . . what does all this have to do with you guys?”
Even those from Department 5 seemed genuinely interested to hear the answer. Taeyong realized they had never heard of Sofia, and would have no idea what Hwiyoung is talking about. He felt a little guilty—was that supposed to be a secret?
“It’s about Chittaphon,” Taeyong said slowly, carefully, picking his words. “Before coming to Daydream, he worked at Treble, with Soomi. They . . . had a relationship. A secret one, so don’t tell anybody. It ended badly right around the time Soomi got pregnant. That’s all I really know.”
Hwiyoung’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Wait! Do you think Chitta-ssi is the father?!”
Taeyong chuckled nervously. Secretly, he had his theories, but he wanted that kept on the down-low. “Uh, no, apparently Soomi told him at the time of their breakup that he’s not. That’s kind of why they broke up. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter now. They’re long since through.”
The rest of the dinner went, comparatively, normal. Mindless chatter was passed across, down, and up the table, dodging Jaemin, who was still weirdly quiet. He didn’t have much reaction to anything happening around him, almost as if he wasn’t hearing any of it. Taeyong was, at that point, itching for the dinner to end, so he could get the chance to talk to Jaemin alone.
As it turned out, he didn’t need that chance. As soon as everyone was standing up and putting on their coats, Jaemin approached Taeyong and tugged on his sleeve, whispering the first words he’d spoken in two hours: “Taeyong-hyung, can I talk with you? Privately?”
Taeyong turned to the rest of the group. “Go on without me, everyone, I’ll catch up in a second.”
The others nodded and left the restaurant in a two-by-two line—Johnny with Hwiyoung, Taeil with Max, Yuta with Sicheng, and Mark with Haechan. Taeyong turned to Jaemin, concern written all over his face, and finally got to ask what had been burning on his tongue all night: “What’s going on? You’ve been so quiet. Is something the matter?”
“I have something to ask you,” Jaemin said feebly. Taeyong leaned toward him curiously. “Taeyong-hyung, how . . . how did you find out you were gay? Like, how did you know?”
That was a loaded question Taeyong was not prepared for. Of all the things Taeyong might’ve expected Jaemin to say, that was not one of them. He couldn’t fathom why Jaemin would ask such a thing, and why he seemed so worked up. Nonetheless, Taeyong tried his best to form a response.
“I think I always knew I was different,” he began, thinking deeply. “I didn’t know what it was back then, but I knew something set me apart from my peers. Then, I got my first real crush, on . . . a boy. It took me a while to realize my admiration of him was more than just ‘friendly.’ Once I admitted it to myself, I guess I knew. It was a really hard time for me.” When he finished, Jaemin seemed more distraught, not less, so Taeyong added, “Why do you ask, Jaeminnie?”
Jaemin seemed spooked, like an exposed deer milliseconds before it darts into the safety of the forest. His hands were even shaking. His cheeks reddened, and his eyes went glassy. “I think . . . I might have a crush,” he said, meekly, almost inaudible, “on . . . a . . . boy . . .”
Taeyong’s heart ached. He knew exactly what that felt like—realizing for the first time that your love life will never be easy. Realizing you aren’t the same as everyone else, in a way many would view as immoral. At the same time, his heart felt warmed that Jaemin would have thought to talk to him about such a trivial thing. He felt like a real hyung.
Taeyong placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Jeno?” he whispered. Jaemin went white, frozen like a snowman, avoiding Taeyong’s gaze, shuffling his feet. “Sorry to hit the nail on the head so quick,” Taeyong chuckled, “gaydar.”
Jaemin sniffled, a single tear straying down his cheek. “He’s my friend, my brother,” he said quietly, “but suddenly I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s in my head all the time, Hyung. When I’m close to him I feel nauseous, and I can’t talk as comfortably as I used to. What’s happened to me? What do I do?”
“How does Jeno feel?” he asked softly.
Jaemin shook his head fervently. “I don’t know, I haven’t asked. I haven’t talked to him about this. I can’t tell him, I can never tell him.”
“If you keep it all inside it’ll only boil over until it all comes exploding out,” Taeyong explained. “What if I talked to Jeno?” | 95e264422bc7425c9634a4eac519dafa | ['2668a354b2d7430391db985f54db654f'] | Taeyong scoffed incredulously. “You, who keeps enough alcohol stored at any given time to host a party, ran out? In one night? Good God, man.”
Johnny shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his annoying face. Taeyong watched him, looked through him, saw the crushing sadness deep in his eyes that made his own chest feel tight. There was so much behind that tough, playboy façade—a man who feels, a man who hurts, a man who cries, a heart beaten up and ripped apart by trust.
“So, you skipped work to get blackout drunk by yourself in your little mancave?” Taeyong muttered, eyebrow raised. “Classic Johnny.”
Johnny looked at his hands. “No. I didn’t skip work. I . . . lost my job. The director fired me yesterday. That’s when I started drinking heavily.”
Taeyong jumped forward off the wall. “What?! You got fired?!”
Johnny seemed indifferent. “Yeah. It was bound to happen eventually,” he sighed. “The director said he was tired of me missing work and couldn’t make any more excuses for me. So, he had to fire me. I get my last paycheck on Monday.”
Taeyong was crestfallen. “I can’t believe it. I can’t imagine Department 5 without you. Do you think he knew about the fight?”
Johnny shook his head. “He didn’t say anything.”
Taeyong had seen this coming for a long time. Every time Johnny went through a bought of depression, Taeyong thought it would be his last days at the company. Somehow, he’d held out this long, and it felt so unreal to actually, finally, be happening.
“What will you do now?” he asked slowly.
Johnny shrugged. “Dunno. My parents can help me out financially, at least for a bit. This could be good, I could use some time off.”
“Not if you’re spending it like this,” Taeyong pointed out.
“You’re right. I’ll do better,” Johnny relented. There was a moment of silence, then, as their unspoken words hung thickly in the air between them. “You know, Taeyong, I didn’t mean what I—”
“Don’t mention it. Just forget about it,” Taeyong said, teeth gritted. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
Johnny looked at Taeyong remorsefully, eyebrows knitted together. “Please, Taeyong, I want you to know how sorry I am.”
“I get it. You were mad,” Taeyong snapped, “but anger tends to bring the secrets we keep to the surface. It takes away our inhibition so we can reveal our true thoughts. So I don’t want to hear it.”
Johnny looked almost close to tears. “I never should’ve said that to you,” he choked, “you didn’t deserve that and I know how much Xukun hurt you, I shouldn’t have . . .”
“Whatever. Don’t mention it,” Taeyong said, exasperated. “Just . . . get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. I know it’s not easy but promise me you’ll try.”
Johnny smiled gently. “Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
They spent the next hour-and-a-half cleaning Johnny’s house. Taeyong went around with a trash bag collecting all the garbage off the floor while Johnny took a shower and changed his clothes. Then, Taeyong fixed a quick dinner of ramen noodles for them both, and they spent some time in silence watching SNL skits on the TV until Johnny grew tired and they parted for the night.
When Taeyong returned home, Jaehyun was passed out on his couch, head back and open-mouth snoring, with a small collection of empty Sapporo bottles on the coffee table. Amused, Taeyong snapped a quick photo before he lifted his drunk friend up and carried him to bed. It wasn’t long before Taeyong had taken his place on the couch.
***
“Hey, wake up. Taeyongie!”
Taeyong awoke with a start, his back aching from an uncomfortable sleep on the sofa. Jaehyun was standing above him, tilted and groggy and stinking of beer, tapping him gently on the arm with one of the Sapporo bottles.
“Don’t you work today?” Jaehyun asked once they made eye contact. Taeyong groaned loudly and stretched himself out, sitting up and fixing his bunched-up clothes. He looked sleepily at the clock, which was boasting 8 A.M.
“Shit,” he muttered, getting up quickly and making his way to his room. He threw a quick thank-you to Jaehyun as he went.
Quickly, he put together a presentable outfit and fixed his face and hair in the bathroom, before collecting his stuff and making for the door. Hand on the doorknob, he turned to Jaehyun, who was seated again on his couch with a cup of coffee in his hand, watching some early-morning talk show.
“Don’t you have a house of your own?” Taeyong asked, flat-toned.
Jaehyun tipped his head back to look at Taeyong upside-down. “I’m broke so I can’t afford cable at home right now. Do you mind?”
Taeyong rolled his eyes. “I guess not. Just don’t break anything.”
Jaehyun gave him a thumbs-up and he left with a brusque good-bye. He made it to work just in the nick of time, rushing into the workroom at exactly eight-thirty. In his rush, he’d forgotten about one key detail—a detail he was reminded of the minute he saw the downcast faces of his colleagues.
Yuta approached him slowly. “Taeyong . . . did you hear?”
“About Johnny?” he asked. Yuta nodded. “Yeah. I talked to him yesterday. He told me.”
“It feels so empty,” said Mark, who was sitting at the table with one arm propped up to rest his cheek on his fist.
“You talked to him?” asked Taeil. “How is he?”
Taeyong shrugged uncertainly. “I don’t want to say anything. I thought he was okay last time, and we all know how wrong I was.”
It was quiet for a few minutes. Everything seemed to have fallen out of place and nobody knew what to say. Johnny was gone, Chittaphon was nowhere to be found, and everyone felt completely darksided. |
f2e7dd134a6544b98e04c7ea6c4dda4e | ['26ad9a49c56543bd820e83c871944f3a'] | **My voice will be heard today**
As they sang together, Hinata felt something growing inside of him. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it was special.
**It's just another war**
**Just another family torn**
_My voice will be heard today_
**It's just another kill**
**The countdown begins to destroy ourselves**
He never wanted to stop singing. Even though he had what seemed like a small part in this song, he wanted it to last forever, but he also wanted it to end.
**I need a hero to save my life**
**I need a hero just in time**
**Save me just in time**
**Save me just in time**
Hinata snuck a few peaks at Kageyama, he was rocking his head with the beat of the music as he sang, but he couldn’t read anything from his expression. Hinata wanted to know if he felt the same.
**_Who's gonna fight for what's right_ **
**_Who's gonna help us survive_ **
**We're in the fight of our lives**
_And we're not ready to die_
_**Who's gonna fight for the weak** _
_**Who's gonna make 'em believe** _
**I've got a hero** _I've got a hero_
**Livin' in me**
Was it Passion? Excitement? Hinata couldn’t figure it out, but as he sang alongside Kageyama the feeling grew closer.
**_I'm gonna fight for what's right_ **
**_Today I'm speaking my mind_ **
**And if it kills me tonight**
_I will be ready to die_
**A hero's not afraid to give his life**
**_A hero's gonna save me just in time_ **
**I need a hero to save me now**
**I need a hero** _save me now_
**I need a hero to save my life**
**A hero'll save me** _just in time_
Hinata felt his heart racing as the end of the song neared. His mixed feelings and thoughts buzzing in his mind. I need a hero Who's gonna fight for what's right Who's gonna help us survive I need a hero Who's gonna fight for the weak Who's gonna make 'em believe I need a hero I need a hero A hero's gonna save me just in time Hinata turned to lock eyes with Kageyama, whose eyes he could not read. But in that moment, Hinata knew. He knew exactly what he was feeling. It was the beginnings of love.
**Author's Note:**
> The Songs used in this work are not mine. I do not own them. The rights to 'The World' and 'The Escape' belong to NateWantsToBattle on YouTube. The rights to 'Hero' belong to Skillet.
>
> Thanks for reading! Comment any song suggestions below :) | 7d6d021ca3e34d1eae9b487e4c8e388e | ['26ad9a49c56543bd820e83c871944f3a'] |
The Freak Duet
After six hours on his feet, Hinata was finally free. Hinata had spent most of his day at work, which was at Ukai’s Lounge where he bar-tended. Hinata enjoyed work, his boss, Ukai, is really cool; he looks like a gangster with his piercings and ‘I don’t give a fuck’ sort of demeanor, but he’s actually a chill guy. Ukai’s the grandson of the original owner who started the lounge almost 60 years ago. The only tough part was Ukai lost all of his credibility when his grandfather retired recently. Since then, business had slowed and he had a hard time finding people to perform.
Hinata sighed before digging his phone out of his locker. Three new messages. One was from Kenma.
Check you channel. Was all he said.
Alrighty…
Two from Yamaguchi.
Shoyo! Let’s get drinks when you get off!
I’ve decided you don’t have a choice. I’ll pick you up from work.
Hinata sighed. He needed to get Yamaguchi laid otherwise they’ll both need new livers with how much Yamaguchi drug him to bars and parties.
Not a second later, Hinata heard the door to the breakroom open. Hinata turned to see Yachi with a duffle bag in hand.
“Your, uh, friend is here and he gave this to me to give you.”
“Oh. Thank you, Yachi.”
“No Problem.” She said with a shy smile.
“Do you mind watching the door for me? I’m just gonna change here really quick.”
“Sure. I’ll be right outside.” As soon as Yachi closed the door, Hinata started to change.
Yamaguchi had picked out a bright orange v-neck that matched his hair with my black sweater cardigan and jeans.
After Hinata was done, he quickly shoved his work clothes into the duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder before heading out the door, but Hinata was greeted by some unwanted company.
Yachi was backed up in a corner looking scared out of her mind by this chick named Yuki and two of her friends. Yuki was one of the main performers here. She thought because she could sing, she owned the place, which made Hinata immediate despise her.
“Oh honey, you’re still here? I surprised they keep you around with a face like that.” Yuki said with a snide look on her face.
“You should leave before you scare all the customers away.” One of her backup singers added. Yachi looked away, tears forming in the corners of her eyes and her body shaking.
“HEY!” Hinata yelled as he came rushing towards them. “Leave her alone!”
“Oh dear. The talentless grade school kid thinks he’s scary.” Yuki bent down so they were eye level. “Hurry home, it’s getting dark. You don’t want to stay out past your curfew.”
The girls behind her giggled. Hinata tilted his head, his eyes wide with confidence.
“You do that a lot don’t you?”
“Do what?” She snapped.
“Bend over.” Yuki visibly tensed before straightening, her face boiling with anger.
“You asshole. You have no idea who I am.”
“No I have a very good idea. You’re just a washed up singer, who thinks she can walk all over people because you think you have talent. But there’s so much more to singing than that.”
Yuki glared at Hinata, not saying anything for a moment until she finally turned her head and yelled, “UKAI!” Hinata saw Ukai behind the bar. He set down the glass he was cleaning and sighed before jogging over to where they were standing.
“What’s going on?” “Hinata’s been sexually harassing me.”
“What?! Are you fucking kidding me?” Hinata yelled. “She was just harassing Yachi!”
“Prove it.” She snapped back. Ukai sighed. “Ukai, I refuse to perform if this pervert is still here!”
“What the hell? I’m not even-“ “Hinata, Can I speak with you in private?” Ukai said tensely. “Yachi, you can leave early if you’d like.” Yachi nodded quickly and ran into the breakroom. Hinata glared at Yuki one last time before following Ukai. Once they were a safe distance away from Yuki and her friends, Ukai sighed heavily. He looked like he had aged 5 years in those short few minutes.
“Ukai, you gotta believe me. I didn’t-“
“I know. She pulls bullshit like this all the time.” Ukai said with his teeth clenched.
“Why do you keep her here?”
“I have no other choice. I’ve been asking around for months, but we’re not like some of these big name clubs. No one will take my business seriously.” Ukai said massaging his temples. Hinata felt guilt blossom in his chest for causing more trouble for him. He’s already been stressed out over keeping the lounge in business and here I was causing more stress.
“Ukai, don’t worry about it. I understand.”
Ukai looked up, his eyes shining, “Really?”
“Yea, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m really sorry it came to this.”
Hinata laughed awkwardly, “It’s okay. Just promise you’ll give me a good reference for my next job.”
“You have my word.”
* * *
“I don’t believe you lost your job.” Yamaguchi said right after Hinata finished explaining why he was so late meeting Yamaguchi.
They were sitting at a table in the Datekou Bar, enjoying some well-deserved drinks. It was Friday night so it was fairly busy, waiters and waitresses buzzed around serving customers in the dimmed, modern setting of the bar. Games and races played softly in the background on various TVs, none of them were volleyball, so it doesn’t interest them. Kenma sat next to Yamaguchi, nose deep in his phone. Apparently, he was talking to this guy named Kuroo, who he had run into just a few weeks earlier.
“I know. That bitch gets away with everything.” Hinata said bitterly taking a large swig of my beer. “But I don’t regret any of it. Yachi didn’t deserve to be treated like that.” |
44d0f838a7234cbaa0054bd5a27cd47d | ['26e89fcaad3f4f7eb7e188d1db481a23'] | He had taken her breath away completely but she didn't mind. His kiss had been so amazing that she wouldn't have cared if she had died moments later. She felt him petting and stroking her, rubbing her fur and teasing her more sensitive spots. He kept away from her floatation ring, just like he knew she liked. She was completely helpless under his ministrations, and it only managed to stoke the roaring fire between her hind legs.
"Aaaah…!" she moaned in bliss, gazing up at him with hazy, lust-filled eyes.
"Buizel…" he whispered.
She licked her lips and gave him the best sultry smile she could manage. "Take me…" she whispered, spreading her hind legs even further apart. She tingled in anticipation, waiting eagerly for what was to come next. To entice him, she flicked her two-pronged tail up to tickle his belly a little.
"Are you certain?" he asked, care evident in his tone.
"Yes!" she shouted, and then blushed in embarrassment. "Yes," she repeated in a more controlled tone, "Take me! Take me now, and don't stop until the sun comes up!"
He smiled at her. "As you wish," he said, and another excited quiver ran up her spine.
The bed shifted as he got into position, bringing himself closer to her. She shivered like a leaf in a winter snowstorm, filled with a volatile mix of anticipation, lust, affection, anxiety and pure, unsaturated _need_! She needed him. She needed him right now!
She reached her paws up around him, hugging him and holding him close. She let out a long, lustful moan as she felt their two bodies connect. Their body heats met and combined into a roaring flame of desire, and she could feel his heart beat against hers.
"Buizel…" he whispered to her, giving her another kiss and bringing his hips down to meet hers. She moaned as he got closer, closer, _closer_ to that centralized spot of painful need.
Her breath hitched in her throat. The room was hotter than it had ever been before. All words and thoughts evaporated into mist, leaving only one word behind.
"Anon…"
…
Buizel squirmed under the covers, a heavenly smile on her muzzle. Sweat continued to run down her forehead, getting her fur, her pillow and her bed somewhat damp. She was moaning softly, and she had a faint rosy hue on her cheeks.
"Anon…" she whispered again as she rolled onto her side, curling up beneath the blankets. She started to pant softly, still smiling warmly. The covers shifted as she moved, and the bed quietly squeaked. Soft little mewls and barks filled the room
Eventually, Buizel's eyes fluttered open. The beam of light coming in from her bedroom window had crossed the room and was now shining directly at her. It felt nice and warm, but it was very irritating to her tired eyes. She blinked in confusion a couple of times, wondering what had just happened. She remembered being in bed, and having the time of her life. She was still in bed, but now things were different.
It took her a couple of minutes of blearily glancing around to realize that she was in her own bedroom, which was just the same as it had always been. The sun shining through the window meant that morning had arrived. The room was empty. _He_ was nowhere to be seen.
Buizel shook her head to clear her cloudy thoughts, and that's when she finally realized what had happened. A disappointed whine slipped past her lips as she recognized that she had been dreaming before and had just woken up. She wanted so badly to close her eyes and go back to that dream, but that never worked when she tried it in the past. She always ended up dreaming about something else instead.
She reflected on the wonderful experience she had just been treated to, even though it hadn't been real. It had been so vivid and tangible, and it was resting clearly in her memory without fading away like most dreams did. She closed her eyes and replayed the intense scene in her mind, letting out a sigh that was both satisfied and frustrated at the same time.
Then her eyes shot open as she realized something else. She quickly sat up and lifted the covers up off of herself. There, in the middle of her blankets, clear as the morning sun on a cloudless day, was a very noticeable and relatively large damp spot. It lined up perfectly with a certain part of her body; a part that was still damp and dripping wet with arousal. The powerful scent of her own self hit her like a truck.
Buizel let the covers fall on her and collapsed onto her pillow with a loud groan. "Ughh…" she moaned. She had just had a wet dream.
Another wet dream.
Buizel was not exactly a morning Pokémon. She usually awoke with the rising sun, but preferred not to get out of bed right away. She enjoyed an extra half hour or so of that relaxed semi-conscious state where one is only half awake. She liked to wake up and greet the morning slowly, at her own pace. It made her feel less groggy once she was actually up and on her paws.
Not today, though. That was something she was getting to enjoy less and less these days. | 30c1456a17c840289dfb19a88fe53a66 | ['26e89fcaad3f4f7eb7e188d1db481a23'] | "Yeah! Um…" Pound paused for a minute to think. Usually it was his mom who came up with the ideas for what they would do, so he wanted to try to make the decisions on his own this time. His brain was still a little hazy from all of the fun he had just had, so he wasn't exactly at his most innovative. One particular idea, however, popped into his head and wouldn't leave.
"Stand up," he instructed her with a big grin on his face, "Stand up and look over there."
"What are you going to…?" she began to say as she got to her hooves.
"Don't worry! I've got it!"
Cup Cake said no more as she turned around, standing on the covers and facing away from him. She had on her face both a huge blush and a huge smile as she shifted her tail aside, giving Pound a glimpse at what lie beneath. She then gasped as she felt her son uses his hooves to grasp her tail and push it completely out of the way.
Pound stared at his mother's rear-end with a huge smile on his face, his wings already standing up stiff. He held her tail up high, just like she had done to him, until his mom got the idea and held it up herself. He took another moment to simply gaze at her most intimate areas, taking a deep inhale of her intoxicating scent. He then leaned in, opened his mouth, and extended his tongue.
Cup Cake gasped in both shock and arousal as his tongue slid across her tailhole. She shivered and moaned as Pound licked across the tight ring a couple of times. "Ohh, Pound…You…You…Oh goodness!"
Pound had been a little apprehensive about doing this, but it hadn't held him back very much. After all, he had done so many new things over the past few weeks that had been very weird but had turned out to be so amazing and pleasurable. He found that licking her ass was just like licking her anywhere else, except with the added benefit of her wonderful reactions.
He poked his tongue at her clenched hole, exploring the feel of it for a moment before trying to push past and gain entrance. Every time he moved his tongue, his mom quivered, moaned loudly, and her scent seemed to get stronger. It wasn't long before it was almost overwhelmingly powerful, and Pound felt a few droplets of her wetness dripping onto his rear hooves.
He thought for a moment, thinking about the previous times he had gotten his mom to finish. Usually she had something inside of her when it happened. Pound was occupied with licking her tailhole and didn't want to leave just to get a toy. Her licking of his tailhole had given him lots of wonderful feelings, but hadn't gotten him to finish. His mom would need something else. For a couple moments he was at a loss, but then he came up with an idea.
As his tongue slipped past her barrier and slid inside of her rear passage, he moved one of his hooves down from her flanks to her soaking wet folds. He rubbed at them a little, getting his hoof completely wet in the process. The intensity of his mom's moaning increased threefold, so Pound knew he was doing something right. He rubbed harder and faster, slipping his rather small hoof inside of her vagina easily.
The intrepid little colt swirled his tongue around inside of her tailhole as he rubbed and gently thrust his hoof into her vagina. Pound had scarcely heard his mother crying out and moaning so loudly, and her reactions only excited him even more. He pushed his tongue in deeper, trying to reach as deep into her ass as he could. He wanted to please her as much as possible, and so he also pushed his hoof in even further. She was moaning and cooing, and he could feel her folds clenching against his totally soaked hoof. He could tell that her finish was not very far away.
"Pooouunnddd…."
He pulled his tongue out briefly so that he could ask, "Does that feel good mom?"
"Don't stop!" was her only response.
Pound beamed, ecstatic that he had done something good without instruction. He wasted no time before plunging his tongue back in. He began to piston it in and out, sliding his hoof in further at the same time and rubbing deep into her. He could feel her tensing up and could hear her moaning so loudly. It was only a matter of moments.
Finally, his mom let out a long, loud cry. Her vagina clenched tightly around his hoof, and her tailhole did the same to his tongue, making him _eep_ slightly in surprise. His hoof and the bed below were soaked with her juices as she rode out a particularly intense finish. When the ride was over, she collapsed forward on the bed, moaning softly.
Pound grinned proudly, immediately bringing up his hoof to lick off what had collected there. "Mmph!" he said with his mouth full, "That was so much fun!!"
"Mmyeah…" she murmured into the covers.
The young colt was feeling particularly good about himself. He was enjoying not only the satisfaction of having made his mom feel so good, but also the spoils of victory that he was now tasting. Though he was left with yet another erection, he wasn't expecting any more out of this current game. Sometimes three in a row left him aching a little anyway. Either way, Pound knew not to get greedy.
It took a few minutes for Cup Cake to recover, but soon she had wrapped her son up in a big hug. "That was wonderful, sweetie!" she said, giving him an affectionate nuzzle, "You get better and better at this every time we play!"
Pound giggled. "I had a lot of fun!" |
f0c5a3cfc5684f938014287350399f47 | ['26fa07db179343c383d05549c9189062'] | In a couple of seconds I went from almost yelling at Marco to leave to blushing like a schoolgirl. I felt sort of ashamed that I'd temporarily forgotten how genuinely good a person he was. He wasn't insulting me - he just genuinely believed I didn't have anything to worry about. He gave me a warm look and picked up his book again.
"That's it?" I asked, disgruntled he wasn't going to ask me any more questions on how I was feeling about it.
"That's all," Marco confirmed. "Don't worry about it. You'll do great!"
He returned to the book, humming every so often when he found a piece of information and wrote it down in his notebook.
I didn't go back to reading. I was too busy thinking about what he'd just said, running the words through my brain. _You'll do great. You'll do great. You'll do great._
"Hey," I said suddenly, and Marco looked at me in surprise.
"Why?"
"Why what?" Marco looked confused. I can't say I didn't blame him, but I kept going with the thought that was tumbling inside my head.
"I mean, why do you have this...faith in me? You don't think the debate's an issue at all."
Marco tapped his pen against his chin, looking as if he was seriously considering what his next words would be. I waited for him, unconsciously leaning forwards.
"You're very human, Jean," Marco finally said. "You understand people and you look at things from the point of view of the weak. That's why I think you'd be a good criminal lawyer. You're a leader and you see situations pragmatically, but from a humanistic standpoint, even if you pretend you don't. Criminal law could use someone like you."
As much as I hate dramatic clichés, and I hated clichés with a vengeance, it felt like someone had punched me hard in the chest. I tried to give a casual laugh and mentally cursed myself at how shaky it sounded. Marco and I were friends and had been since the rooftop - since our first meeting in Garrison, to be honest - but this was something more tangible than just the acknowledgement of friendship. This was proof. "You got all that from two weeks of being friends with me?"
Marco's eyes travelled up to mine. "I could have got that from one week of being friends with you. You're an open book."
"No I'm not!" I frowned.
"Well, you are to me," Marco said.
I huffed, blowing my bangs upward as I tried not to do something like smile like an idiot or hug him. I was smooth, OK. I was cool. I was the coolest guy around. A veritable man of mystery.
"Ancient Chinese proverb: Marco's like Jean's," he smiled softly and then turned the innocent expression into a smirk. He fucking smirked, like he knew how much sappy friend stuff made me uncomfortable. I picked up my spoon from the tub and threw it at him; it hit Marco square on his nose and he fell over backwards clutching at his face with a muffled 'ow.'
"Sorry man, you alright?" I grinned. Served him right.
Marco rose from the floor so I could see him frowning at me with a bright red nose. To be honest, it was more of a pout. I didn't really think Marco _knew_ how to glare.
"You're dead," he said in a flat tone, and I felt my grin plummet.
"Shit," was all I got out before Marco grabbed a cushion from the couch behind him and launched himself at me, bringing the cushion down on me.
"Remember Marco's like Jean's! Marco's like Jean's!" I screamed, trying to simultaneously throw him off in a dignified way and grab for a cushion of my own while he pummeled my face and torso, pout replaced by loud laughing.
"There will be no pity shown-" Marco began, and kept on laughing when I finally whacked him off me with my own cushion and knocked him to the floor.
* * *
The cushion fight aside (I had bruises, Marco's arms had definitely proved to live up to his abs) we actually got a lot of work done. Marco left just before Connie got back, but we got some really great information down and I was feeling a lot more confident about the outline of my argument.
Plus, Marco had apparently made it his life's mission for today to send me as many motivational texts as he possibly could. In the form of ancient Chinese proverbs.
"You're kidding me," I whined out loud during my first lecture of the day when I saw how many messages I had.
"What is it?" Franz asked from beside me, trying to get a look at my phone. I snatched it away before he could get a good look.
"Keep your eyes to yourself," I told him. "Or better yet, bring your lady friend to the nearest IKEA and get down and dirty on one of the plushest couches they have to offer."
"Will you quit it with the couch jokes already!"
I smirked triumphantly and went back to texting Marco.
* * *
For the rest of the day I was in a fairly good mood. All my classes were easy, the pizza they served in the canteen was halfway edible, and I knew I looked good in the polo shirt and slacks I'd bothered to iron for the semi-formal debate.
It was on my way to Legionnaire's Hall, where most of the law events were held, that doubts started to creep in. I was swinging my notes folder in one hand, other jammed into my jacket pocket, when I realised in one jarring moment just how much of a colossal fuckup I could make of myself in front of the best students in my class as well as some of the best law students at Trost, period. | 7efbaaeb28024d2386c19d6b9cba93d7 | ['26fa07db179343c383d05549c9189062'] | I didn't want to pursue the subject any further - I'd gone too far in revealing so much of myself in that outburst - and Marco seemed to get that, because after a few seconds he dropped his head back to his notes. We worked steadily; I hadn't asked what Marco was doing, but I presumed it involved one of his hellish med classes.
"How's it going?" he asked after half an hour had passed. He leaned back to stretch his hands over his head and my eyes snagged on the sliver of skin his pulled-up sweater exposed.
I snapped my eyes back up to his. "Uh, it's OK. I'm finding some things I think I can use. What have you been doing?"
Marco looked sheepish. "I should be doing revision for my Organic Chemistry test, but I got caught up writing." I glanced down at the pen he was tapping against the notepad; the page was filled with sentences and crossed-out words.
"Fiction?"
He gave me a small smile. "Yeah. I thought it was about time I got into writing again. I've missed it."
"Come on then," I said, holding out a hand. He looked at me in confusion and I elaborated. "Let me read it."
I let out a cackle at how horrified he looked. "I can't do that, Jean, I don't like people seeing my writing before it's finished."
"What about that creative writing class you're in? You must show your stuff to them."
"Yeah, but that's different, we're all writing-no, don't!"
I'd made an attempt to grab Marco's notepad and he dived across to get it back, resulting in a tugging match across the table. Honestly, I wasn't that bothered about reading his story, I was just enjoying the desperate look on his face and he pulled his notepad back.
We must have got too loud again, because after a few minutes of the back-and-forth tugging and Marco's half-laughing exclaims of "You're such an ass!" a familiar head popped around the corner bookshelf that blocked our tables off from the rest of the library.
Professor Ackerman was glaring at us, a pen tucked behind his ear. "If you idiots want to enact your horny adolescent fantasies, do it in the privacy of your own rooms, not in a place where I'll have to sanitize the tables. _Shut up_."
We whispered apologies and after a further glare his head whipped back around the shelf. Reluctantly I gave the notepad back to Marco.
"I can't believe he thought - look, we'd better quit talking," I mumbled, and flipped through to the last page I had been reading. I wasn't going to give Professor Ackerman any excuses to hand my ass to me.
Marco didn't reply, so I assumed he had returned to writing, but after a minute I felt my mobile vibrate under a pile of papers I'd dumped haphazardly on the table. Feeling Marco watching me, I picked it up, and saw a text from him on the screen.
**From Marco:**
**Quitting talking is good and all, but there's this amazing 21st century device called the MOBILE PHONE that does ALL THE TALKING for you! Amazing, isn't it?**
I quickly thumbed back a reply.
**To Marco:**
**News just in: you're a fucking dork**
**From Marco:**
**I'd rather be a fucking dork than a non-fucking dork, if you get my drift...**
I closed my eyes briefly, as if I could contain the secondhand embarrassment I felt from reading such a dorky message behind my eyelids. I could hear Marco guffawing quietly in front of me. Normally in any burgeoning friendship of mine this would be the point where I would have upped and left to get away from the nerdiness (Sasha and Connie were the only exceptions, the reason being they'd gotten their hooks into me at too young an age to dislodge them), but for some reason Marco Bodt was a strangely irresistible person to stay away from.
Maybe it was the slyly teasing side of his personality under his innocent surface that made me like him so much? He was a good enough person to not care about how blunt I was, but his niceness didn't make him boring.
While I was internally musing, Marco had been typing out another message.
**From Marco:**
**My coolness has incapacitated you, hasn't it?**
I rolled my eyes and stuck into replying.
**To Marco:**
**Yeah let's call it 'coolness'**
A thought struck me and I hastily sent another message before Marco could.
**To Marco:**
**One second i'm gonna add you to our group chat everyone needs to see how lame you are**
I exited from my inbox and clicked on the chat app we used. Marco had briefly mentioned having an account on it, but we hadn't swapped contacts - we were fine just texting, but I thought that if Marco was part of my friends' group chat it would make him, and everyone, feel like he could be more involved with all of us.
"What's your name on here?" I whispered to him.
Marco picked up his own phone. "I'll send you a request. Your name is...?"
"JKirschteining, first two letters all caps."
"I see what you did there. And I'm the nerd?" Marco was grinning as he typed it into his phone.
A few seconds later I got a chat notification and opened it up.
I had one new contact request from mrrobodto.
"I can't believe you," I said under my breath, and accepted the request. "Mr Robodto, oh my God."
Marco immediately sent me a private message and I leaned my elbows on my books as I read the screen, all attempts at work forgotten.
**from: mrrobodto**
Are you sure the others won't mind me being added, if it's just a chat for all of you?
**from: JKirschteining**
you're one of us, of course they're not gonna mind
**from: JKirschteining**
one sec let me just add you |
685a8e8fcf644e8a824c364a1b41f026 | ['270c93a58b5c429c8a475a858c8f9f8d'] | He swallowed hard, gaze fixed on the fire. It calmed his racing heart. “I…uh. Yeah. Adrenaline. Hey, look, you didn’t see him, he was incredible—so I kind of maybe got a little carried away…”
Tuuri speaking Finnish, brief and flowing, and footsteps behind him. When Lalli appeared out of the corner of his eye and slipped a cool hand into his, he jolted. “What the—”
Lalli’s lips brushed his cheek. He thought he might faint.
There was an explosion of Finnish behind him—Tuuri—and a short, answering burst from Lalli. More Finnish, incredulous and angry, and Lalli’s response sounded so calm and unruffled that Emil felt his heart flip itself up into his throat with the surge of emotion that coursed through him. He’d never thought it was possible to admire someone _so much_.
Lalli twined their fingers together, and he wrenched his gaze away from the fire to look at him. For a dizzying moment, they stared into each other’s eyes—and then Emil gathered up his courage, closing the distance between them. _Please_ , he thought, _let me not fuck this up._
Oh. Lalli was kissing him back, carefully and sweetly and a little awkwardly, before pulling away and saying something in Finnish. He felt dizzy, heart hammering against his ribs, but he could breathe again. Lalli hadn’t let go of his hand.
Tuuri screeched behind him before switching to muttered Swedish. She sounded mortally embarrassed, and Emil couldn’t blame her. “…He says…yes, if you really want to.”
Emil guessed he hadn’t fucked it up.
(The panic came later, when he got in the tank and sat down on his bunk and realized that he had just _kissed Lalli_ , they were _together_ , he’d actually _proposed_ and Lalli seemed to want to take him up on it, and he’d never actually given him an answer so what if Lalli thought he wasn’t _serious_ , when he wanted him so much he could barely breathe—)
(And then Lalli came back from the smug (on his end) and horrified (Onni’s) conversation he’d been having over the radio, sat down next to him, wordlessly pulled him over until his head came to rest on his thigh, and started combing his hair gently with bare fingers. Emil felt much better after that.)
(Even if the way Onni and Tuuri were yelling at each other in Finnish suggested that he was about to be rigorously interrogated as to his intentions. Lalli was stroking his hair with the faintest smile on his face, and Emil was sure he’d made the right choice.)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "Onni! Are you there?"
> "What--yes! I'm here; are you hurt? What's the matter?"
> Lalli took a deep breath, smirking as he caught Tuuri's eye. She still looked horrified. "I'm getting _married_."
> Silence. Silence on the other end of the line for so long that Lalli started to worry. When Onni finally responded, his voice wavered. "I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. You're _what?"_
> "Engaged." He couldn't help the cheery note in his voice. "To Emil Västerström. He--"
> "The _godless Swedish Cleanser?!_ Have you--Lalli Hotakainen, you ought to be shipped home _right this minute,_ the Silent World has clearly driven you insane. You've only known him for two weeks! How could you..."
> There was more after that (they didn't speak the same language, Emil must be after something, he was going to break his heart, Onni hadn't even _met_ him, how did Lalli know it wasn't just a joke or some hormonal impulse, could he even _trust_ Emil) but Lalli tuned his cousin out. Emil looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. He was in good hands.
2. two households, both alike in dignity
Onni was yelling into the radio in Finnish. _Still_. His voice was starting to go hoarse. And was he—Torbjörn winced. Yes, he was starting to cry, big fat tears that he had no hope of hiding even as he scrubbed at his face with the back of a hand. Tuuri sounded frantic on the other end. When she stopped talking, Onni took a deep breath and got to his feet, shoving the chair back.
Torbjörn swallowed hard at the icy rage on his face. “Um. Is…everyone okay?” _God, why did Taru have to leave now?_
Onni locked eyes with him. Torbjörn took a step back. “Why don’t you ask your nephew?”
He felt his stomach drop. “What happened?” _He’s dead. He’s dead or he got someone else killed and now the mission is a failure and we’re all doomed._
Onni took a slow breath. “Ask him.”
As he shouldered roughly past him, Torbjörn took his vacated seat at the radio and pressed his palms flat to the console, trying to calm himself down. As something thudded against the wall outside—probably Onni’s fist, he thought—he put the headset on. “Emil? Emil, are you there?”
Crackling static. Tuuri and a voice that was probably Lalli, snapping at each other in Finnish before Tuuri called Emil’s name. When Emil’s voice rang out—hesitant, nervous—Torbjörn could have cried with relief. “Uh. Yeah. I’m here.”
“Emil, what did you _do?_ Onni’s upset, Tuuri’s yelling…”
The sound of Emil taking a deep breath. “Um. Well. I…proposed.”
For a moment, the words refused to register in his mind. “You _what?!”_
“—To Lalli, and—it wasn’t planned! It just kind of happened! He…” Emil huffed, sounding defiant. “Look, I know it’s a shock, but Lalli said yes and I _like_ him—”
In the maelstrom of reasons why this was a bad idea—they were both only nineteen, neither of them spoke each other’s languages, they were virtual strangers—Torbjörn’s mind seized on one thing and before he could stop himself he was blurting it out. “You’ve only known him for two weeks! You can’t—”
“…Dear? What’s going on?” | 475b22fc047f4bdba8813d1fa76bf186 | ['270c93a58b5c429c8a475a858c8f9f8d'] | It was the hardest letter he’d ever written. It was unwise to gush too freely about any of Lalli’s perceived good points or Emil’s apparent budding feelings for the young man, or Thorulf would think he was wholeheartedly in favor of the whole thing. On the other hand, if he condemned the relationship too strongly, Thorulf would certainly want to know why he hadn’t forbade the match outright. _As if I’m supposed to be your son’s father, “brother dear,”_ he thought savagely as he sealed and stamped the envelope.
He felt a little better once he mailed it. His brother was stubborn and pigheaded, but he was capable of quick thinking when the occasion called for it; surely, he’d understand that there was no other reasonable course of action but to be as supportive as possible if—or when—it blew up in Emil’s face and they were left with the task of picking bits of the boy’s broken heart out of the metaphorical shrubbery. Surely he’d avail himself of his good sense once the shock wore off.
The response they received the next day proved him wrong.
Siv got to the mail first; as she sat down on the couch to read it, Torbjörn watched her expression cycle through concern and shock before settling on a sort of incredulous anger. “They’re _disowning_ him?!”
The world tilted around him; if he wasn’t leaning against the arm of the couch, he thought he might fall over. “That’s ridiculous—they can’t do that!”
She swallowed. “…It appears that…that’s exactly what they’re doing. Read the letter yourself, dear.”
He took the letter in suddenly-trembling hands. “No. Oh, _no_.” Indeed, Emil’s parents were not just disowning him; the letter went on in truly vituperative fashion over several pages to accuse Lalli of seducing him. He skimmed the page in growing horror, gaze flicking over choice phrases— _our foolish son—completely taken in by the wiles of foreign ‘mages,’—certainly the boy isn’t entirely sane—a disgrace to our family—he’ll never amount to anything now—throwing his life away on some little foreign tramp—how could you let this happen_. He’d never been ashamed of his family before, even with the unpleasantness that had lost them their fortunes, but this went far beyond an inability to balance a budget or stay away from the card tables; overcome, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Onni’s heavy footsteps announced his arrival long before the man himself came to loom in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Torbjörn sucked in a breath, shaking with the sudden anger that raced through his veins as he switched to Icelandic. “We told Emil’s parents about…what happened. And they are _terrible parents_.”
“I knew this was going to happen.” Siv heaved a sigh, shaking her head. “Your brother always was a hidebound jerk; his son being engaged to a pagan mage must have sent him right over the edge.”
Onni looked from one Västerström to the other, expression taking on a note of confusion—Siv had done her lamenting in Swedish. “Torbjörn. What did they do?”
He balled the letter up and tossed it on the coffee table. “They disowned him. As far as they’re concerned, proposing to your cousin means that Emil is no longer their son.” Some truthful impulse made him add, “And they, um. Don’t approve of Lalli, either.”
Onni sat down heavily on the nearest chair, eyes narrowing into a glare focused on the crumpled paper. Torbjörn wondered if he could glare it into combustion. “… _Really_.”
Siv hugged her arms, staring at the coffee table “So…what do we do?”
“…Well.” He took a breath. “If Emil’s parents aren’t going to support him, we’ll just have to do it instead. He’s our family, no matter what.”
She sighed, raking her hair back from her face. “Yeah. There’s no way telling him about this will end well, though.”
He shrugged with an ease he didn’t really feel. “So we don’t tell him. There. There’s no reason to distract the poor boy on a mission like this, especially over something he’s clearly not willing to take back yet; if Thorulf hasn’t calmed down by the time they get back, we can figure out a way to break the news then.”
“He won’t have.”
Onni looked up. He was still glaring, but it no longer looked quite so murderous. “So, Emil’s really determined to go through with this?”
“...Yeah.” Truthfully, part of him felt a little bad for Onni; the man hadn’t had any reason to expect this either. What kind of person expected to hear from their cousin in the Silent World that he was not wounded or sick or dead, but had acquired a Swedish soldier for a fiancé? “Sorry about that; looks like our family’s tied together for now. If it helps…uh. He seems to really like Lalli, at least?”
“Hnn.” For a moment, Onni eyed him up and down. “…Well, it could probably be worse.”
(“Worse,” it turned out, showed up just after dinner, when Emil took over the radio to cheerfully and firmly inform them that he was starting to learn Finnish, just as Lalli was learning a few words of Swedish. Tuuri’s interjection that she was teaching them both _separately_ didn’t help much, though it did forestall Torbjörn’s worries about what kind of Finnish phrases Emil might be learning.)
(When their next radio call was interrupted by a crash, a sharp word in Finnish, and Tuuri demanding to know where Emil had learned words like that, Torbjörn started worrying all over again. Siv, of course, had never stopped.)
3. understanding
Finnish, Emil decided, was not a language created by humans. It was a tongue sent fully-formed from the deepest, darkest pit of hell. There was no other explanation for the horrors he’d seen in the pages of the battered Finnish-Swedish phrasebook Mikkel had unearthed from a ruined basement.
“This is a sentence. This is an entire sentence’s worth of information. _Why is it one word_.” |
4e26faf7a4f84d699f8a6ed015d832c1 | ['2719335783274386be215841be5ff067'] | “When did you learn _that?_!” Momo shouted down at me from the top of the rocky terrain.
“Just now apparently.” I laughed obnoxiously, and everyone looked at me, worry swimming in all of their eyes.
“What was that? You can levitate?” Jirou raised her eyebrows at me and I shrugged.
“Try it again.” Uraraka insisted.
“But I really don’t know how I did it?”
“Your scythe followed you to the floor, it wasn’t even falling at the same speed as you. It was just spinning all weird and like, hovering beside you the entire time.” The invisible girl commented.
“So, should I like…spin it? I don’t want to just reenact me falling and mess up my body in the process.”
“Yeah, honestly I have no idea how we could even help you try that again…” Yaoyorozu said loudly from above.
“Do you think you could fly?” Tsu gasped, “Maybe your tail has something to do with the levitating.”
“If you train hard enough maybe your quirk could evolve similar to mine! But you don’t have to touch anything.” Ochako-chan squealed, excitement filling her brown eyes.
“I don’t think succubi are supposed to float though…”
“Does your dad float?”
“No, he has wings. You’re either born with wings or you aren’t,” I informed the girls and they all hummed, “Hagakure-chan, you said my scythe followed me? Do you remember what I did just before I fell?”
“Well, you threw the scythe in the air because you lost your balance, and when you turned to face the floor as you were falling, that’s when it began to spin.”
“So, do you think if you spin, and throw your scythe… You could replicate what happened?” Tsu tilted her head to the side, thinking about what she said. I rolled my lips into my mouth and bit into them.
“I’ll need to train by myself. You guys have to be on the side, completely away from me. Momo-chan,” I called to the big haired girl and she peered over the rocky terrain, “Make sure you create a shield to block you guys from my scythe in case it flies your way.” Said girl nodded and Uraraka grabbed hold of all the girls, making them float up towards my opponent.
“Be careful Ami-sama!” Mina-chan shouted, but her voice was full of excitement and wonder.
“You bet!” I let Ochako-chan float me up toward the battle area with her once she dropped the rest of the girls behind Momo’s already made shield. It was see through so they could watch me, and I let out a deep sigh. I had to focus. Maybe if I was in a state of panic that was when the ability came out? But it didn’t happen when I fought Bakugou. Maybe it was my tail.
“Just try spinning with your scythe first!” Jirou-chan advised me and I nodded, stepping back so I could get a small running start before doing a three-sixty and throwing my scythe to the side. I did it five times before giving up.
“It’s clearly not working.” I said, frustrated. The girls all let out disappointed ‘ _aw_ ’s and I shook my head.
“Maybe if you keep your arm out in that direction?” Tsu proposed. I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking about the action in my head.
“So, like, if I were to take a few steps, spin completely, and then throw it to my right while keeping my previous stance?”
“Maybe you have to spin it before throwing it!” Hagakure-chan exclaimed. I blinked a couple times before nodding and stepping back again, preparing to make the spin. I dug my right foot into the dirt beneath me and pushed off with my left foot, launching forward, taking two steps, and using my left foot again to bounce and make the turn. Spinning my scythe clockwise, I cast it off to the left of me after I made a full spin, landing on my feet and holding my arm out.
Everyone cheered loudly as my scythe spun rapidly in the air and I let my jaw drop. I looked to the girls, my mouth still open, and they were screaming wildly. Ochako and Momo were jumping up and down in each other’s arms and Mina was stomping her feet with her hands in the air. Jirou gave me a thumbs up and I could see Hagakure’s outfit bouncing around while Tsu hopped back and forth from where she was.
“Can you lift yourself now?! Maybe if you put your hands in front of you like when you fell you’ll levitate!!!” Mina screamed at me excitedly. I did just as she said, my scythe following so that it was now spinning in front of me. I couldn’t figure out how to lift myself though. I shut my eyes, taking in a deep breath and then quickly shoving my hands downward so they were facing the rocky terrain beneath me.
I suddenly felt lighter and everyone screamed again. I opened my eyes, laughing as I saw myself floating inches above the ground and I couldn’t help the excited tears welling in my eyes. I did it. I was getting somewhere and this part of my quick wasn’t even evil. I screamed out a loud _‘yes!’_ while pumping my fist in the air and stomping my right foot, and suddenly an explosion happened under me.
The girls’ excited screams turned into cries of horror and my heart stopped. Debris and dust were falling all around me and once it cleared, knowing that the girls were safe I looked around frantically and the terrain that was once under me had a large dent in it, almost like a small meteor had crashed where I was. It almost looked similar to one of the Bunny Hero’s moves. I gasped in fear and everyone was silent now.
“What – What did I do?” I could feel myself slowly beginning to panic, “ _What just happened!?_ ” | cb99a263a68d499c95b3a802ce8bae75 | ['2719335783274386be215841be5ff067'] | “I would almost call you heartless, but if you were you would’ve left a while ago.” Dabi was the one to tense up this time. He was caught. The villain never believed in soul mates. He thought it was stupid because there were so many people in the world how would you _ever_ find them? How could you only have _one?_ But when she mentioned that ungodly concept and exposed her eye…a small bit of hope was ignited in the villain and though he hated to admit it, he wanted to hear what she had to say. Even if it was hateful and rude.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Her words made him glare at her once more, “You’re selfish and reckless and never fucking thought about how your actions made me feel.”
“I didn’t think you existed, could you blame me?”
“That’s such _bullshit_!”
“You really think I wanted to believe in all of that?!”
“It’s so _painfully **obvious Dabi**_.”
“ _I don’t **want** a soul mate! I don’t **want** to be **your soul mate**_.”
“And you think _I_ would?!”
“I –“ She began to cry and Dabi couldn’t even argue anymore. The sight made his skin crawl. Why was she crying?
“You’re so _god damn selfish_. My eye color flickered from yours to mine so often it was _repulsing_. I wanted to kill you myself just so the fucking changes would stop and people would quit worrying about me. You’re so –“ She broke off into more crying and Dabi watched her, wide eyed, “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?”
“You have no idea who I am...”
“Okay? And _you_ know me?”
“What kind of point are you trying to make?!” Dabi shouted, throwing his hands in the air, “You found me! Congratulations! You’re the winner! _Now_ what?! You expect us to just live _happily ever after_?!”
“No!” She screamed, advancing forward and punching him in the chest, “No! I don’t expect _any_ of that! I just needed to see you! I needed you to know—to be _aware_ —that all the shit you do takes a toll on _me_. And maybe you don’t give a _fuck_ but this is about _me!_ You don’t have to love me, hell you don’t ever have to see me again, I just needed –“ She pushed her hands to her face and cried loudly. Everything about a soul mate was nothing but trash to her now. This was what had become of her soul mate and she was never going to have the love her parents shared.
“ _I hate you! I **hate you**_! A soul mate is supposed to be a happy thing and _you **destroyed it for me!** You_ made it _horrible! You_ made me angry. The past couple years have been so _**fucking**_ annoying and I just –“ She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and crumpled the material in her hands.
“So you just wanted to yell at me.” His calm tone of voice made more tears slip down her cheeks. He didn’t care. He didn’t.
“Yeah. I just wanted to yell at you.” Her voice was small, barely above a whisper, and when she released the hold on his shirt Dabi grabbed her by the wrist. They looked at each other under the moonlight, her cheeks soaked with tears and breathing erratic. Dabi’s face was soft, something close to regret gracing his scarred-up features.
“I did look for you,” Her heart fluttered at the thought and his hold on her wrist loosened up a bit, “But it was only for like…a week.” To this she snarled at him and pulled her wrist from him, visibly hurt at his half-assed effort.
“What!? You made it increasingly hard being an absolute _nobody_. What are you, anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“And for your information, I wasn’t purposefully putting myself in danger before. You have no idea what I’ve been through and what got me here so don’t be making me more into a bad guy than I already am. You would’ve crumbled under the shit I went through, but I suppose I’m glad it happened to me and not you.” She could feel his body temperature rising just by their close proximity, signaling that his quirk was back.
“I hate that it’s you Dabi.”
“Well I’m sorry but quite frankly I don’t care. Like you said, we don’t ever have to see each other again. So why bother thinking about it anymore.”
“Why is it so hard for you to just sympathize?” Her words made his hands clench into fists. If only she knew.
“You understand that we can never be together, correct?” She shot him a glare but then quickly nodded her head, ashamed, “So why do you need my sympathy? This is the life I chose and I’m not changing it.”
“If we had just met a little earlier… would things be different?” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. Of course they would be different. Everything would be different. He would get to know her name, and she would get to know his, but now –
“I can’t say I would’ve wanted you in my life even then.” His words stabbed at her heart like a bunch of tiny knives, but this time she couldn’t be angry.
“Okay...” She was quick to turn on her heels, her head down. Even though nothing was solved, and the events did not change in her favor, it was better than her keeping it inside. She finally got to see him, her soul mate, and tell him what was hurting her. Again, this was about _her_ and as Dabi watched her walk away something didn’t sit right with him. |
8dcbf14dd6634fa1a34ada8cfbf224f2 | ['2728c57918284d17ae5fd0f1be2318a8'] | " Which relatives are we going to visit, Atty?" Ella spoke up hesitantly, which earned her a look from Stephen. There was a long pause before Atreus elected to speak again. Ella found the silence to be foreboding and ominous, and the look upon his face was one she didn't like. She had to wonder if she even went so far as to insult him with such a question. Ella couldn't recall a time where Atreus spoke of his relatives—well only the ones from Orlais, but not the ones that still resided in Starkhaven.
" Ah...well, if ah'm lucky...Ah'll only need tae endure my cousins and their children." He finally spoke to Ella's great relief.
" Ah'm just wantin' tae see Sebastian again." He added in a more pleasant tone. Ella nodded and relaxed in her spot once more.
The welcoming to Starkhaven was something Ella never experienced before. It was so warm...exciting and there was so many people. She felt as if she didn't leave Skyhold at all with the way people stared at her with such admiration. Even when attempting to exit the cart and falling flat on her face. Instead of hearing roars of laughter, it was the sound of applause and some even went as far as to go " aww " in a way that you might if you were cheering a baby deer to stand for the first time. Her Inquisitor title would follow her everywhere...
After the embarrassing ordeal of falling onto her face, the trio was lead down a well-lit corridor where they were met with a rather plump woman. If Ella had to guess, she would say the woman was about the same age as Atreus if not a few years older. The way she held herself made Ella think that she was vastly respected. She had a pleasant face, one of a mother.
The plump woman hadn't said a word until she promptly stormed over to Atreus to jam a finger into his shoulder.
" What's wrong with ye, Melchor, did ye ferget how tae write? " She demanded sternly. " Ye couldn't even let yer own cousin ken ye were still breathin? Ah!"
The startled look on Atreus' face was comical if not strange to Ella. Atreus always seemed like authoritarian in Skyhold, not afraid of anything. He was one to never let anyone push him around from what Ella had seen; and yet here he was, being bullied by his cousin.
" Ah would've written but ah was tae busy helpin' tae stop the breach." Atreus grumbled as he rubbed the dull pain in his shoulder away.
"Oy, whit was ye' doin'? Lecturin' it tae death?" The woman sneered in return. Atreus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes lest he earned more of her scorn, instead he spoke in a calm, but firm tone.
" Ah was aidin' in the trainin' of recruits, Abbigal." This seem to have little effect on the woman for she had moved onto a different target.
" Ye Melchors are all the same, never writin' tae yer family." She muttered as she inspected Stephen, her hard gaze surveying him as if to sniff out any imperfections or flaws.
" Ah take it...this is yer husband then? Are ye nae even gonnae introduce me?" She asked but her gaze remained fixated on Stephen.
" Ah yes! Of course! Abbigal, this is my husband, Stephen Melchor." He said politely as if to earn his way back into his cousin's good graces.
" A pleasure to meet you, Serah Abbigal." Stephen greeted in an equally polite tone. If Abbigal had been with the Inquisition; he was sure Corypheus would've been hesitant to cross her. A look of realization had dawned upon her face as her stern demeanor changed into a pleasant one.
"Ah Ferelden, Atreus? At least he's nae an Orlesian." She moved on to the last of the trio, and the smallest. When the woman's gaze fell upon Ella, she instantly sucked back behind Stephen; whom she had been using as shield to hide. This woman startled Ella and her sudden shyness had overtook her.
Ella gulped as she felt Stephen's arm guide back to her spot. Surprisingly, his hand remained stagnant on her shoulder, and Ella wasn't sure if he trying to comfort her or keep her from ducking behind Atreus. Either way, Ella was glad for the support.
" Bless me heart, is that--?"
" Aye, cousin, this is Ellana Lavellan, Inquisitor and the one who stopped the breach." Atreus smiled fondly and gazed at the young elf. " Ah've sorted taken the lass under me wing, so tae speak."
" The lass is the Herald of Andraste? She's a Dalish at that? Well nae matter! " Abbigal mused happily, and beckoned Ella forward.
"Come lassie, come! We'll be havin' a great feast in yer honor ta'night!" Abbigal declared as they made their way into the guest wing.
They made their way up the steps and into a lounge like room. It was large with the walls donning shelves upon shelves of books all the while there was stringed instruments about and chairs and cushions. The fire place was even elaborate and large.
Ella gazed admiringly around at the room. She noted on one side there was two large doors with a book case between them. She assumed those lead to the guest rooms.
" Ah'll have the boys bring up yer luggage in a moment." Abbigal went on and moved to inspect Ella fully in the light. Ella met her gaze with a quizzical one of her own. She hadn't felt this inspected since the moment she met Cassandra to fit her in Inquisition Armor.
" Yer a small one, aren't ye lassie? " Abbigal commented as her gaze found Atreus, who was resting in an arm chair—to rest his knee. His hands were resting idly upon his cane. | 414d13ee78df441d8f5bc378f1efc051 | ['2728c57918284d17ae5fd0f1be2318a8'] | " Dinnae ye eat at Skyhold?" She asked him curiously but gave a shrug. "Well, ye be eatin' ta'night, lassie. But er..." She paused as if forming the next words carefully as so not to offend the elf.
"Yer nae wearin' that, are ye?" She asked upon noticing the elven scout armor that Ella wore. Ella had begun to fidget with the scarf around her neck when the elder woman spoke.
"Um, well...I don't really have much else to wear." She admitted, she didn't think her Skyhold lounge wear would be appropriate. Ella suddenly felt really out of place. It was like she stepped into a whole new world all together.
"Dinnae worry yerself, lassie. Ah'll find ye somethin' suitable to wear. Ye'll be dressed like a proper Stark tae see the Prince."
" Ah'm sure Sebastian would be content with just seein' us, Abbigal." Atreus spoke up.
" Ye keep yer comments tae yerself, Melchor or am ah gonnae have tae make ye eat dirt like when we were wee kids?" It was clearly evident that once Abbigal had made her mind on something, there was no changing it.
The evening had approached them so quickly that Ella didn't realize the time it was by the time she had finished unpacking her trunk and bathing. Just as the mistress promised, Abbigal had brought her a change of Starkhaven adornments. Well was quite sure she would look absolutely silly dressed in a long skirt and pannier. The long earthy long skirt covered her toes when she walked, a strange feeling to the usual of having her legs free in her armor. The tunic was comfortable and airy and was a dark color of green, like pine trees. To bring the outfit together, a long tartan shawl rested around her shoulders which Ella tied securely to her belt. It formed a poncho like garb.
Ella gazed perplexed in the mirror. She certainly didn't feel like the Inquisitor in such an outfit. In fact, she felt like someone else entirely and this epiphany brought a smile to her face. Today she was Ella Lavellan—Melchor really, she didn't feel like an Lavellan any longer, not since before the Conclave. She was now and forever more be a Melchor and Melchor women dressed as Starks do.
Her uneasy gaze fell upon the amulet donning her neck. It was the very same that Alexis had used to throw her back in time with Dorian—who was now her bests of friends. It was a token of their friendship. Dorian had reassured her it was no longer dangerous and felt it suited her. It was a lucky charm Ella mused. It had gotten her through every mission she was sent on, and now she was able to stand before the mirror staring at it. It was truly a lucky charm.
There was a sudden knock upon her door and Ella gazed at it with unease. She made her way over to the large door as the knocking persisted. With a great effort, Ella swung it open to see a young servant girl--no older than fifteen if Ella had to guess—standing there.
" Guid evenin' mistress Lavellan." She greeted with a curtsy. " The Prince instructed me tae fetch ye fer supper, he'd like tae meet ye."
Ella gave the girl a warm smile. " Thank you. I'm ready to go if you'd be willing to lead me to the dining hall. "
The girl smiled excitedly. "Of course, mistress! Everyone is gatherin' in the great hall. Serah Melchor and his husband are there, already." The girl seemed awestruck and Ella had a feeling she wouldn't be the only one once she stepped into the great hall.
The smell coming from the great hall teased Ella's stomach into churning as she entered it. She was taken aback by how many people could actually fit in it. It was breath taking, in a similar way that the Winter Palace had been. Even though the walls were painted and adorned differently than Orlais, the stares and whispers were the same.
Ella meandered through the crowd. She only stopped when someone addressed her or pulled her into conversation. She was on a mission to find her fathers and with a great effort, she finally found them sitting at one of the long tables with none other than the Prince of Starkhaven.
Both were dressed in Starkhaven fashion, each donning a different tartan cloth, Atreus' being a deep blue color that reminded Ella of the sea, while Stephen's was a bright crimson red. Both had secured them to their belts similar how Ella had.
The prince, on the other hand, donned a crown upon his head, and a furred cloak. Under it, he wore light colored armor. Ella moved to join them. She settled onto the bench adjacent from the men with the full of intent of just listening to the story the prince had been enthralled with telling. Like most Starks, he had a talent for telling stories; however, he had stopped mid-sentence the moment Ella had sat down.
"Ah yes, Sebastian, lad allow me tae introduce ye tae Ella, the Her-"
"The Herald of Andraste, bless her heart!" Sebastian grinned widely. "Welcome tae me home. Ah hope yer stay in Starkhaven is a pleasant one." He extended pleasantries; and the way he spoke so casually had eased Ella's nervousness just a bit.
" Yes, thank you very much." Ella replied with a smile, her eyes darted to Stephen for a moment and offering him a smile as well. In turn, he nodded his head as he poked his potato with his fork.
"Well ah hope ye have a good time tonight, mistress! Will ye be goin' tae the Festival of Flowers, tomorrow?" Sebastian inquired, momentarily forgetting the story he was telling. |
bafb0739aae94e4290ed0a45ae73b7c7 | ['2731d0d1060047fab210bc48135b915a'] | “You fucking slut,” they said. They slapped him hard across the face, and he cried out in pleasure. He sat up, putting his lips to their nipple, his hands working them into a fever again. They rolled their hips into him, grabbing his ass, drawing it into them, controlling him again.
“What’s taking you so long?” they asked.
“I can’t come unless you tell me,” he answered quickly, and they saw the depth of his need, that he hadn’t finished for _days_ , as he held his hand to their head, showing their his feelings, his mind, everything. They saw how he saw them: so gorgeous, so indescribably hot, so powerful, how they _felt_ to him.
“Fuck me harder, Kylo,” they demanded, their breath ragged. They grabbed his ass, hard, and he let his hand drop, leaving them to their experience, and he groaned into them wantonly, obscene the way he flung his head back, looking like sin.
“Tell me you want it,” they said breathlessly.
“ _I need it,_ ” he said.
“Beg me,” they said.
“ _Please, please, I need it_ , I’ll do _anything_ ,” he said. His eyes were bleary with pleasure. He set his swolen lips, then teeth, to their nipple again, gently probing their clit with his fingers, and took them over the edge. They threw their head back as their body shook with pleasure. He growled deeply.
“Come for me,” they said, and he was finished, moaning their name loudly, so so obscenely, swearing. Still he kept pressing, holding them to their pleasure, making sure they took every ounce of it, long after his was gone.
***
They awoke an hour later, their fingers curled in his hair, his head on their chest, his long legs wrapped around them. At first they thought he was asleep. But he felt them stir, and looked back up at them through those long, idiot eyelashes, his large hand pressed to their hip. Wondering what happened next.
**Author's Note:**
> Hey my fellow trash queens:
>
> News update: I've been able to write at a really rapid pace over the holidays, and that is sadly soon to change as I return to the Real World of Real Responsibilities. Please stay tuned, I just can't quit you, and I will keep writing, but geez I've had a new fic like every day! But I'll keep updating this FOR SURE, and expect some other small one-offs in different pairings!
>
> Yours in Sin,
> USER xoxo | 38cd8466464c4565b6dbbe2cd26cbef8 | ['2731d0d1060047fab210bc48135b915a'] | “I half expected you to be made of metal,” he said, pulling Kylo’s trousers down, revealing his long, pink cock. Poe’s breath hitched. Then he glanced back up at Kylo through his long, dark eyelashes, looking absolutely wicked. “I’m glad you’re not.”
Kylo watched, helplessly, as Poe took the tip of his dick into his mouth, flicking his tongue over and around the tip. Kylo couldn’t help it: he tilted his head back and groaned softly. He heard what he swore was a chuckle from Dameron. He looked sharply down at the shirtless man, his own cock pressing out of his flight-suit, as he enveloped more of his dick in his mouth.
“You are my prisoner,” Kylo told him, grateful for the metallic modulator.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Dameron hummed in agreement, and the sensation nearly killed Kylo all over again. He was just recovering when he felt Dameron take his entire length down his throat with practiced ease. Kylo threw his head back, trying hard to keep it under control, gasping hard.
Poe withdrew, letting Kylo’s cock bobble onto his cheek, leaking a little precum.
“Is there anything else you want? Lord Ren?” he asked, before taking Kylo’s tip into his mouth again, sucking hard.
“Wh—what do you mean?” Kylo asked mechanically, his helmet, gloves, and cape the only remaining vestiges of clothing on him. Poe withdrew again, with a hiss of admonition from Kylo.
“Oh, you know,” Poe said, and then slipped two fingers into his own mouth— a sight which nearly made Kylo come then and there— before taking Kylo back between his full lips and gently prodding the fingers around the rim of Kylo’s asshole, then pressing them inside.
Kylo Ren froze, then jerked away from Poe. Poe sat back.
“I’m sorry— are you okay?” Poe asked. “What—“ He eyed Kylo curiously. “Wait,” he continued. “Are you— are you a virgin?”
Although Kylo didn’t move or speak, it didn’t take mind-reading abilities to tell he definitely was. Poe rose to his feet, facing the taller man, his face full of excitement, intrigue… and something incredibly naughty.
“Don’t—“ Kylo said, but then Poe stepped forward, letting their cocks touch, pressing his hips against Kylo’s. He laid several wet kisses along Kylo’s collarbone.
“I am your prisoner,” Poe said. “And I will do whatever you want.” He traced his fingers around Kylo’s nipples— already puckered from the cold room and his arousal— Kylo flinched. “Including, making sure you’re ready.” Poe said, fishing a bottle of lube from his flight-suit. Kylo’s eyes went dark.
“I can take anything, traitor. I am the leader of the Knights of Ren.”
“Of course,” Poe replied, coating two fingers in the lube and resuming his place on his knees. “Lord Ren.” He took Kylo’s tip in his mouth again, pressing one finger gently into his ass. Kylo tensed, muffling a gasp, as he grabbed Poe’s tousled hair with a gloved hand.
Outside, Hux couldn’t look away from the strain at Kylo’s perfect white throat as Poe withdrew from Kylo’s cock and slowly slid a second finger inside of him. Hux couldn’t stop listening to the small, depraved sounds Kylo made, that he had always wanted to ellicit from Kylo himself, as this traitor eased him open, making space— and he was going to have to make a lot of space, Hux reflected, looking at Dameron’s thick cock with arousal-mingled-jealousy.
Eventually, Kylo lost control of his body, leaning wantonly against the wall. “Now,” he breathed out, slow and mechanical in the helmet. Dameron’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t stop.
“Now,” Kylo insisted, “now, I— I need it. I need you inside me.”
“Say it again,” Poe said.
“Take me, _please_.”
Poe stood back, removing his hands from Kylo’s body. Poe appraisedthe willing body of Kylo Ren, getting hard just at the sight of him, of his incredibly pale, lean, muscled chest. At his long cock, leaking and hard, errupting from a tangle of dark brown hair. Poe reached for Kylo’s gloved hands, taking the fingers between his teeth, and pulling the gloves off pale, elegant fingers. He licked Kylo’s hand— which garnered a shuddering gasp— never taking his gaze from the chrome helmet atop Kylo’s head. Poe stepped away, and he swore he could hear a small whimper from that helmet.
“Take off the helmet,” Poe said, lounging languidly on the cell bench, letting his beautiful tan cock drape along his muscular thighs. Kylo hesitated. “I want to watch you,” Poe said.
Kylo’s breath hitched. He stepped toward Poe, bringing a hand up to his chin, releasing and pulling the helmet over his head. Poe nearly gasped at the young man, at his broken, hungry eyes gone black with arousal, at his full, wicked lips. At his beautiful black curls, dampened with sweat and pressed against his long, cruel neck. Kylo sat, regally, beside Poe.
Poe brushed a hand up Kylo’s chest, running a fingernail over a nipple— earning a hiss of pain and pleasure— on his way to Kylo’s black cape. Poe raised Kylo’s long, strong legs up, finding them surprisingly flexible. Kylo didn’t miss the hunger in Poe’s eyes as he pressed their cocks together once more, grinding his hips into Kylo’s.
“Do it, traitor,” Kylo said. And Poe obliged, pressing his dick at the entrance to Kylo’s hole. Kylo’s eyes fluttered delicately with arousal, and Poe took the moment to slowly, carefully press his considerable thickness into Kylo Ren.
“Ahhhhh,” Kylo gasped, overwhelmed with the sensation. “You, you…” he couldn’t go on. Poe Dameron shifted, changing his angle, and gently brushing his cock against Kylo’s prostate. |
7ec542e99d694f1885f2d1cf2312f888 | ['27388b3ddbe54c1da91d8879f0d43234'] | “Outdated, huh? That’s... an interesting way of putting it.” The girl looks towards the mountains towering in the distance as if they could promise her another life.
“Seriously! I mean, have you ever been to Piltover?”
“Not yet, but I do want to visit someday.”
“Oh, c’mon. You really should! I know Pilties seem to make everything about themselves, but the hextech there--it’s admirable. Nothing to be feared. Well, just like any weapon, people can use it for good or bad. But magic is just another tool… a natural tool.”
He’s very open-minded, but that’s expected of an adventurer.
“I…” Lux is so tempted to say ‘take me there,’ but does not. “I can’t wait to see it all.”
“It’s very different from here, but you probably already knew that.” He smirks. He’s never met a Demacian who hasn’t been so self-absorbed with her own kingdom of benevolence and righteousness. It’s refreshing, and he’s already dropped the act without realizing it. “My sketches won’t do it justice.”
“I’m sure they’re just as pretty as the real thing.” There goes her fake smile again. Ezreal’s skin seems to crawl from the obvious mask that Lux wears. He doesn’t know the specifics of why she wears one, but people tend to damage others. And unlike the usual praise he gets, he knows hers is quite generic.
“I get it, you wanna be left alone! But don’t come crawlin’ back to me when some wyvern attacks you.” He jests.
“Oh, no worries. I can take care of myself just fine.”
And with that, she turns on her heel and leaves him on the rock, dumbfounded. She can totally kick his ass… and so all he can do is stare after her.
_What just… happened?_
**Author's Note:**
> Any suggestions on what to name my rewrite besides just Cosmic Love II (I'm sure it makes it sound like a sequel)?
>
> So... new Lux and new Ez is out. They definitely have a different dynamic than before, but I think that this update is actually good for them. I always said that they were two sides of the same coin, but now it's really proven in their new bios.
>
> Ezreal is definitely not genuine as his old self, which is a shame, but... I hope to encapsulate the essence of their new relationship which may mesh well better than it did before. We'll see if I'm even characterizing either of them accurately... lol. | 14395b5934c9444b91834c453f0bc15b | ['27388b3ddbe54c1da91d8879f0d43234'] | He thinks the same. He thinks she is a magnificent person. He wants to reach her too. He thinks she is a light that cannot be extinguished. A guiding light that is much more than meets the eye.
The wonder and intrigue he feels when he discovers a new artifact is intact whenever she is around. She is more than she lets on, and he knows this. Yet she will not let him in. He tries to study her, but he cannot.
He enjoys telling her of his adventures, of his passions, of his past. She takes it all in, laughing from time to time. Speaking of experiences from her own when she can relate. But he teaches her, and she loves all of it. Perhaps because she wants to be brave as he.
He knows she is trapped. He wants to free her, release her from her cage. She deserves more credit than she will give herself. He cares for her, that is true.
But he has already given himself to the world. He cannot give any more of himself. He will not. He does not feel for her, as she does for him.
Sad how he has pulled her within his orbit, and she feels so lost.
5. Magnitude
Magnitude:
_The degree of brightness of a star or other object in the sky._
He always has that aura of confidence surrounding him, no matter what he's doing. It is past both of their bedtimes, but Luxanna is always alert and awake whenever she is near Ezreal. He always sparks a passion within her, one that she thought had been dormant all her life. Or at least more contained.
Ezreal, however, does not want to be conscious at all. He lazily presses his head against one of the silk pillows aligned along the headboard of his bed, gesturing towards a book for Lux to read. "It's my favorite one…" He manages to whine, his words accompanied by a sweet slur, as if lathered with honey. Somehow, the Demacian finds this endearing… which concerns her.
Of course, he wants her to read him a bedtime story. Reflecting, Lux wonders if she could ever have avoided this situation, but she figures that is unlikely. They are best friends after all.
"Alright. Here. I'll read it to you." She jokes, grabbing the book off the shelf.
He only smiles at her softly, the creases in his face easing. She isn't expecting that, and is definitely not expecting her heart to jolt at this. She sits down on the rustled sheets, wrinkling them some. She begins reading to him aloud, making sure to enunciate, but not to speak too loudly.
_What am I doing_? The mage ponders.
He has dozed off after the first few paragraphs. _No surprise there,_ she thinks. He seems to be dreaming peacefully, his chest rising and lowering slowly with his quiet breaths. She chuckles an inaudible laugh that probably only the explorer had ever heard. Watching his face, she realizes she does care for him. That she will do anything to support him and take care of him when he needs it. He's become important to her, somehow. All within a matter of weeks. It confuses her, and she hates it. She loves being in control, but with him, she's losing every ounce of it.
Lux does not stop reading to him, although he sleeps. She reads until the end of the book. It is a rather short one; once she finishes, the blonde tucks a blanket over him, entertained at the sight of a sleeping explorer.
"Sweet dreams, Ezreal." She whispers before blowing out the candles.
6. Nova
Nova:
_A star that flares up to several times its original brightness for some time before returning to its original state._
Every day she spends with Ezreal is a blessing. He is her breath of fresh air, away from all the bustle of being the Demacian poster girl. Away from being an example for her people.
She only hopes she can do the same for him–to be his breath of fresh air. To be the wind underneath his wings.
They are sitting in his room of the Institute of War. She is laughing–she doesn't remember how long it's been since she's sincerely felt free. Free. It's the feeling that he seems to radiate from his body and infect her with. She does not need to put on an act, no, she is Lux and only Lux around him.
He teaches her so much about the world, more than she could ever ask for in college. While she may be a magical prodigy, he shows her the secrets of the universe: the untold treasures. Ezreal's eyes light up when he talks of the world, and this light is even brighter than the element she controls nearly every day of her life.
He is sitting next to her on his plush bed; they are as they always are. The explorer suddenly pulls a folded piece of paper from one of the pockets of his jacket and hands it to her. She looks down in surprise.
"It's a present." Ezreal says with a grin.
The Demacian unfolds it, behold: it's a sketch of the fountain in the Fields. It's detailed, shaded, the lines flow together–she's amazed.
"You drew this for me?"
"Yeah." He leans back against the sheets of the bed, folding his arms behind his head and smirks at her with pride. "You know I sketch."
"Yeah…" Lux bites her lip, clutching the paper tightly, but not enough to crinkle it. She treasures it, but she doesn't know how to explain herself.
"It's really beautiful. I think I'll hang it up, Ezreal."
"Glad you appreciate my work. Heh." He sits up this time, peering into her eyes. Her skin is flushed. She's suddenly shy. |
2324aaad492242558b77ad7c41249970 | ['2739e3314c034ab1b3acd0b1b6acd234'] | Even knowing how the environment on campus would invariably change just like the weather, Jared still held fast to the current excitement, letting himself enjoy it while it lasted. He took a deep breath of the fresh, pre-autumn air as he unfolded his giant body from his sporty little coupe, a silver BMW he’d discovered for sale on the side of the road during a visit that summer to his parents’ home in upstate New York. She wasn’t new, but she was pretty and she ran like a dream; it had been love at first sight, and Jared took her for long rides in the country whenever he could, just to hear her engine purr. She looked especially at home in her “Faculty Only” parking spot, but it’s entirely possible Jared was a bit biased on that. _Sure beats student parking_ , he remembered with a grimace at the thought of the past three years and the daily struggle that was finding a parking spot on campus.
Jared tapped his knuckles fondly over her hood as he headed towards the Administration Building, locking the car’s doors with a click of the remote over his shoulder. And so what if it made him feel a little bit badass; he was _faculty_ now, teacher’s assistant to Professor Beaver the three days a week that they had classes scheduled. Yeah, sure, he was kind of low man on the totem pole the other three days of the week (he worked most Saturdays) when he played the role of junior lawyer to his old teacher’s alter-ego, Jim Beaver, Attorney at Law, but it still felt pretty awesome to have made it to the other side of law school, and he took pride in that. And maybe he felt a little smug about it sometimes too, but he tried not to let it get to his head.
Hefting the strap of his briefcase higher up his arm, Jared scaled the old brownstone stairs, two steps at a time. With a broad smile that made his dimples pop, he swung open the glass door, holding it ajar for a small batch of students who rushed past him with ducked heads, slightly flushed cheeks, and muttered thanks. He shook his head at his own unrestrained… _giddiness_ as he followed the group inside. He couldn’t help it, not really; Jared had learned to embrace the fleeting first-day feeling, tucking away that hope, the promise for the future, and save it for the occasions when being a lawyer just got to be too much.
Professor Beaver’s classes wouldn’t start until later in the morning, so Jared had the first period free for prep. He was skillfully weaving his way through the throng of students, intent on snagging a cup of coffee and spending the next hour or so making copies of syllabi in the staff lounge, when a sight caught his eye that stopped him right in his tracks.
The next moment nearly had him falling flat on his face though when a girl who’d been following him too closely (apparently) barrelled right into him. He staggered forward a step, but he regained his balance readily and immediately turned to make sure the young woman hadn’t suffered any harm from their encounter. He held her carefully by her shoulders as he helped her back upright.
“Whoa, sorry about the sudden stop there. Are you okay?”
She tugged at the straps of her backpack and nodded, avoiding Jared’s eyes, her face beet-red all the way to the matching roots of her hair. Jared gave a gentle squeeze of her arms before he let go and took a careful step back. He looked down at her, giving his friendliest smile.
“Just be careful now, alright? Never know when some idiot’s gonna stop moving unexpectedly right in front of you,” he teased, bending slightly to catch her attention. She shyly met his gaze and nodded again, a small twist of her lips and a sparkle in her eyes betraying her amusement. Jared grinned even more broadly, readjusted his own bag, and gave her a quick wink.
“Okay. You have a great day of classes, now. And good luck!” With a cheeky little salute, he spun on his heel away from her, back in the direction he’d been heading initially. He moved at once to the side of the hall, away from the continuing rush of students, and he sought the vision that had so stunned him and halted his usually determined stride.
Even closer now thanks to his little mishap, he could clearly see that his distraction was indeed a _vision_ . Intent on the bulletin board in front of him and completely unaware of the chaos around him, there stood the _most_ beautiful man Jared had ever seen. The man – pretty clearly a student, and a lost one at that – had both hands braced against the wall as he leaned forward, squinting behind wire-framed glasses at the papers pinned to the board, his full lips pursed and his forehead wrinkled in the cutest frown of confusion.
Jared took a moment to focus on catching his breath, and to covertly observe the beauty before him. A delicious smattering of freckles dusted the most adorable nose, and there was evidence of endearing crinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes. His hair looked soft, but still run-through with some sort of product, though whether it was intentionally styled or just sleep-ruffled, Jared couldn’t quite tell. Either way, it was a good look on the guy. For all his immediately endearing features, there was a contradiction found in the strong line of his jaw, the subtle cleft in his chin, the barest hint of stubble. The man’s face alone was truly stunning. | 3ca89b48561a462d8d3b93923c046ce0 | ['2739e3314c034ab1b3acd0b1b6acd234'] | Jensen and Danneel had been practically inseparable since they were teenagers, when Danneel’s family had moved to Jensen’s neighborhood. They’d attended the same private school and Danneel had been one of the few friends who really stuck by Jensen after he’d come out in seventh grade. By the time they’d graduated high school, most of their classmates had come around, and Jensen being gay was no big deal at all, but Danneel remained his closest friend. It hadn’t even been discussed when they both applied to and accepted admission at UCLA. It had just seemed a matter of fact – of course they would go to the same school for their undergraduate studies, he in the pre-law program and she double majoring in business and theater. It was just now hitting Jensen that Harvard would mean a separation that they’d never experienced. Before, when he’d been expecting to have Tom by his side, it probably wouldn’t have even been a thing he’d have considered, but now…? Jensen was feeling a bit adrift, and a lot terrified of the unexpected changes to what had been the biggest dream of his adult life.
Danneel didn’t answer Jensen right away, instead leaning forward to grab a towel from the pile on the table at her side. Gingerly lifting her feet from the bath, she concentrated on drying them thoroughly, scrubbing at her ankles as she considered his question. When she was satisfied with her efforts, she gently pushed the tub a good distance away from her and laid the towel on the floor in its place. Toes wiggling and kneading in the thick terrycloth, she turned her attentions to the small row of colored polishes she had lined up beside the remaining clean towels. She tapped one already perfectly manicured fingertip against her unadorned lips and pondered the bottles intently for several long moments before finally making her selection, a bright fuchsia. Jensen rolled his eyes and did his best to suppress an impatient sigh when she slowly turned back and tucked one foot on the seat of the chair, staring as if the foot was of utmost importance to her, and still avoiding Jensen’s gaze.
“Danni? Pretty sure this isn’t the first time you’ve painted your toenails. Why the sudden hyper-focus?” His voice cracked a little with his worry, mind still stuck on the unanswered question. He hadn’t _meant_ it to be redundant, but he wasn’t really sure what he expected her to say to it, either.
Danneel shrugged one shoulder and grabbed the bottle of polish, shaking it vigorously as she met Jensen’s eyes with a suddenly determined look.
“Well. I was just thinking…” she began confidently, but then she trailed off in hesitation. She cocked her head and looked at Jensen – _really_ looked at him – and then a smile started to spread across her face.
“Uh oh. I know that look.” Jensen, who had leaned forward slightly when he’d been trying to direct her attention to him instead of her feet, sat straight up again, a new type of worry entering his mind. “What is it you’re scheming now?”
“It’s just… I’ve thought of just the _perfect_ thing, Jen.”
When she didn’t immediately continue, Jensen started counting his breaths, actively trying to avoid expressing his exasperation. It didn’t exactly work.
“Yes? And?” Panic began rising in his chest. “Danni, if you don’t tell me whatever crazy plan you’re cooking up _right now_ , I swear I will dump this entire tub of foot water over your head.”
“Ew! Jensen!” Danneel wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Okay, okay. What if… What if I came with you to Harvard?”
“What?” Jensen’s mind reeled. “You mean… like, on vacation, or…?”
“No, silly! Like, _with_ you. Not for school or anything - think I’ve had just about enough of that – but, I’m sure I’d figure something out. We could road-trip all our stuff out there together, find an apartment, be roomies. It’d be perfect!”
Jensen was dumbstruck.
“But… what will you _do_ ? You can’t _seriously_ be considering moving all the way across the country just to… just to keep me company?” Jensen stared at his best friend incredulously, certain she’d lost her mind. Danni had always been a bit of a free spirit, but this was big, even for her.
“Sure, why not?” Danneel shrugged again, the nail polish temporarily forgotten in in the loose cradle of the hand resting in her lap. “I could use a change of scenery. You know I only did the theater thing to keep my parents happy – (Jensen did know this; Danneel’s parents had paid for her entire education, under that one stipulation) “– and I don’t really have any plans after graduation. At least nothing that I need to be in L.A. for. I’m sure there’s _something_ I can find to do in Boston,” she laughed, totally care-free.
Jensen continued to stare, but he let the idea marinate for a bit. The more he thought about it, the more it absolutely appealed to him, though he couldn’t keep from feeling a bit guilty.
“You’re seriously serious about this?” he couldn’t help asking again. He knew Danneel was amazing, but this… this went above and beyond the normal role of a best friend. And yet, being the person she was, somehow Jensen wasn’t really all that surprised that she had made the suggestion. But he needed to be sure that she was doing it for _her_ , too, and not just out of some misguided attachment to him. “Like, you want to do this for reasons besides just continuing to hang out with me, right? Because there’s no way we wouldn’t stay in touch anyway, you know that.” |
57a9ef5270ab4c40b01c9f29dca148e0 | ['273c19a1cfc546e59828234d065f0049'] |
1. Chapter 1
His bones feeling a little too heavy, his head exhausted, his heart hurting.
That feeling was familiar to Merlin, when he at last held the Once and future King.
"Just hold me, please."
He had said, looking Merlin deeply into the eyes, reassuring him that things will be just fine, before taking his last breath.
Those moments still haunt Merlin's memory while walking down the shore of the lake of Avalon. He's come here day for day. In sunshine and rain, health and sickness. It burdened him a thought, that not even the greatest sorcerer to be alive could awake his beloved King.
It's been centuries.. and there hasn't been any sign of him, yet.
June 3rd 2018, 8.36pm.
Merlin settled down on a bench to rest his feet, the aging spell really did its side effects on him, but whenever he went out, he wouldn't be himself.. not until Arthur returned from his sleep.
The old sorcerer watched the sunset. The sun going down, slowly disappearing behind the hills and mountains of the mainland.
He stared into the water and clinged to his memories. That's all what the old man had in that moment. Tears started to form, his eyes fixated on the path which Arthur's boat once took.. maybe behind all that dusk and fog, there's a very alive Arthur Pendragon on the other side of the Island. Maybe.
"I'm sorry, is this seat taken?"
The jogger took him off guard. Not looking into the other man's eyes, he shook his head.
"No, no.. I'm sorry, please sit young man."
Merlin slid to the side of the bench, making space for the man next to him.
"Thank you, sir."
The old man dried his tears with his jacket's sleeve and looked up again, squeezing his eyes shut at the bright reflected sun on the water. A comfortable silence surrounded them.
"I see you here often and I cannot judge you by that.. there's something about this place," the young man began. "I've seen you traveling by foot each day for long as I've known. I find that fascinating."
Merlin cleared his throat, smiling a little.
"Yes, it feels like centuries have passed.." he said jokingly, well aware that it's actually the truth. "I'm waiting for an old friend." He admitted.
"When is he supposed to be here?"
"He should have been a long time ago."
The young man sighed, speaking out his apologies.
"I hate it when people let me wait."
"Me too.. but there is nothing I can change."
An alarm of the man's phone interrupted the beautiful silence.
"I'm sorry, I have to go. Duty calls. It was nice meeting you. I hope your friend will be here soon."
He stood up with a grunt and Merlin watched the frame of bis back rise. He was well trained indeed.
The man's blond hair flew in the breeze of wind, it seemed somewhat familiar.
"I'm sorry.." Merlin croaked out, "I didn't catch your name."
"It's because neither of us asked," he laughed and turned around.. and if Merlin could ever forget this face.. "it's Arthur." He added and jogged off.
Merlin wanted to burst out in tears of happiness.
2. Chapter 2
Merlin wanted to grab his hand and pull him close, but what worried him, is that he didn't recognise Merlin.. not even behind this old skin and the familiar eyes.
He wanted to find out why.
He wandered home to his house near the woods with a smile on his face, there was hope.
***
When he woke up, after a very long time he finally felt alive again. The birds were chirping, the trees singing their own song, the sun shining against Merlin's naked skin. Everything was full of energy, it was magical. Or maybe just Merlin's aura.
After a shower, he started to make his breakfast. Food would help him think. It's a pity Gaius had passed away centuries ago, he would have an explanation for Arthur's appearance.
It wasn't the way Arthur came back, but the way he acted. As if he had never known Merlin or even exchanged a word with him.
He sat down his kitchen table and began eating his omelette. Merlin seemed too deep in thoughts to actually realise that he was eating, it was rather a subconscious task.
He will just wait for him again.
Merlin got himself back into shape, he looked more like his lost friend Gwaine than his old self, so he cut his hair and shaved his beard, but decided to keep some stubbles, because it actually suited him.
His next destination was clear.
***
Merlin sat down on the bench from the day before and plugged his headphones in, he was well aware it was just nearly noon, far too early, judging on the time when Arthur jogged by the day before. But he would wait, he always did.
Merlin checked on his phone's clock as the time went by, almost giving up when the clock hit the 10pm mark.
He leaned back and sighed.
But not long after, he could hear footsteps approaching.
It was Arthur.
But one thing went forgotten, he apparently doesn't remember Merlin. In panic, he turned off his phone and spoke up as Arthur almost jogged past him.
"Er, excuse me?"
Arthur held his feet still and turned around.
"Yes?"
Think Merlin, THINK.
"Phone.. " he started to mumble, "my phone just died, and it's getting pretty late.. may I use yours to call myself a taxi?"
"Course."
Arthur fumbled in his pockets and pulled it out, but it almost fell.
Such a clotpole, he thought to himself.
Merlin's face lit up as he stared into Arthur's eyes for a little too long and took his phone. Their fingers brushed together and that moment was truly magic.
"Thank you." He sweated out | 79d5e31c6a9048379aee895def9bbd9d | ['273c19a1cfc546e59828234d065f0049'] | His lips and cheeks all red from the alcohol's heat.. God, he wanted to press his own mouth against him and make him shut up, devour him in silence.. maybe just some obscene noises were allowed.
One must think this isn't like Merlin at all, but he grew up.. and after this long time without his royal duties, he had needs to fulfill.
Still, Merlin didn't do anything irrational, Arthur is just drunk.. and a little touchy. That's normal. Nothing alarming.
"...what do you think, Merlin?"
"What....?"
"Did you even list'n to a word I jus' said?"
"I lost track after time, but it was about you wanting to go against your father."
Arthur hummed and leaned against his shoulder.
"S'sorry.."
"It's fine.." Merlin reassured him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him close. For a moment he thought Arthur was going to push him away, but he didn't.
"It's late.. you should go to bed."
Arthur shook his head in response and peeked over Merlin's shoulder.
"There's somethin' I haven' done today, but would like to do..."
Merlin held still as Arthur moved his head up, towards him. He was mesmerized and couldn't move, didn't want to either.
Just before he thought he wanted to share a kiss with him, he placed a finger on the sorcerer's lips.
"I wanna kiss you, Merlin.."
"Then do it..-"
"/But/ I don't want you think, I wanna do that jus' 'cause I had a few beer too much.. I like you Meeeerlin.."
He smiled, and bit his lip, Merlin couldn't watch this tortue any longer and took their destiny into his own hands once again.
He shoved Arthur's finger aside and pressed his lips against his King's. It felt good, he felt good!
The gentleness didn't last long, Arthur was into it and so was Merlin.
When Merlin opened his mouth to gasp for some air, Arthur took it as an opportunity to slide his tongue in.
Merlin didn't know how to react, sure thing he's done that before, but those men weren't Arthur.
The hand on his thigh suddenly slipped between his legs and played with his trousers' zipper.
"Arthur.." he breathed between the kisses, but he was truly defeated when the royal lips landed on his swan-like neck.
He couldn't help, but moan softly in response.
He was trapped, shoved further into the couch, closer to is arousal.. but.. the plan!
"Arthur..." Merlin started off again, he didn't want it to stop, he didn't want this burdening longing to his soulmate any longer, but he needed to bring some sense into Arthur.
"Hmm.." One thing Arthur didn't do? Stop. He couldn't stop and stained Merlin's neck with wonderful purple-ish bruises.
"C-caan you listen to m-me for a minute?"
"I can listen to you all night, if you like.."
"/Fuck/ Arthur, please.. "
He withdrew slowly, pressing one last needy kiss on Merlin's lips.
"S..sorry.."
"No, don't apologize. I- i quite liked it. I just- need to talk to you."
Arthur was sceptical, but gave Merlin a sign to continue.
"You trust me, right?" He nodded, of course he did. He had always trusted Merlin.
"Great. I need you to close your eyes. It won't take long, I just.. need to show you something."
"Okay." Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin placed both of his index and middle finger on either side of Arthur scalp and began doing his magic.
Merlin whispered some charm and closed his eyes as well. He had to concentrate, bringing Arthur back by the power given from Kilgharrah.
After the spell, Arthur had fallen into his arms, but he will be his old self soon enough when he awakes from the unconsciousness. |
ea16159272f04aeba9cb7af29ab6f59f | ['2741701ebbe940c2bbe09861b54fcec0'] | Jemma had to admit, it was a comfy bed and in better circumstances, she probably would have fallen asleep immediately on the worn and soft bed, underneath the flexible blankets. However, she didn’t sleep at all throughout the night and she spent most of the time staring at the wall wondering what her family was doing, what Fitz was doing. Did they know what happened yet? She hoped they didn’t.
The ship was also anything but quiet, she could literally hear the vessel ripping through space, the beeps, the creeks, and the random bangs within the walls made her jump constantly. Helen had dropped her off in the room and neglected to warn her of the sounds that one could hear in the walls and under her body.
Her mind flew several times to the Captain, and a mixture of dislike and awe filled her every time. Perhaps she was being to hard on the woman, in reality, she could have been much worse. Skye was right about that. In fact, she didn't even act like a captor, so far she had been nothin but certeous and friendly, but she robbed a class five transport vessel with two people, she was obviously easy to underestimate.
But no. She’s still the reason that the was in this terrifying position. Jemma reminded herself, the bitterness making her feel better about the situation. Still. It could be worse.
Jemma didn’t jump when the doors slid open, she heard the footsteps coming to the door, those heavy boots. She remained on her side underneath the covers with her hand stiffly wedged between her head and the pillow. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out the captain’s figure.
“Good morning. Thought I’d fix the shower real quick.” Then the footsteps moved around the bed and into the bathroom. Jemma didn’t answer but Skye didn’t seem like she expected an answer.
Jemma’s eyes remained glued to the wall while her mind raced. Several clanking noises came from where the captain was working, some glug glug sounds and a few slapping sounds filled the room. As was mentioned before, there was no sound control in this ship.
Jemma sighed and sat up in bed, she was still wearing the exact same thing as what she was captured in, Helen had shown her some sleeping garments, she smiled and took them but then set them down on the floor next to the bed once the kind android was gone.
She swung her legs over the bed and walked to the bathroom, perhaps it was lack of sleep but she felt empty inside and she didn’t want to care anymore. She sat on the edge of the sink next to where Skye was tinkering with the shower. She didn’t glance at the captain but continued to stare at the floor sadly.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Skye guessed from where she was trying to man handle a pipe from out of the wall.
Jemma shook her head dully, “No.”
Skye didn’t say anything but continued to wrestle with the defunct shower. A few minutes passed while Jemma watched Skye working. Jemma, who had a degree in biomechanical engineering, already knew what needed to be done but she stayed silent and let the captain tinker with the shower device.
“How long until we get there?”
“Uh, well, I’m still figuring that out but We’ll get to O-Nah in three days, if I can figure out a way to get you onto the planet without getting arrested then you’ll get to leave then. If that’s not possible then we’ll go to Tah-Woh (That's where all my black Market goods are going to be exchanged) and dock there, you can take a shuttle to O-Nah, and then you’ll be home free.” She grunted as she pulled something out of the wall.
"Where in Tah-Woh is that?"
"Port of Et-Tah-D." Skye didn't hesitate to give her the information,
"Eh-Tah-D?"
"Yeah, it literally means port of those beneath the ground. Nice place."
"Ah."
Several minutes later and Skye suddenly leapt up, “That’s it! It should work now!” Jemma’s eyes followed her as she moved around the bathroom. “Shower on.” She commanded. The shower head trickled at first but then burst to life a second later and Skye raised her arms in triumph.
She looked over and saw that Jemma still had that same blank stare, she sighed, guilt had made it nearly impossible for her to sleep the night before as well. “Hey, why don’t you take a shower and then join me at the bridge for some breakfast?”
Jemma nodded silently, “That’s the spirit, this’ll all be over with soon. I promise.”
Then she grabbed her toolbox and left Jemma sitting on the edge of the sink alone. For once she actually listened to the captain and took a shower. It felt amazing and by the end of it she felt more ready to handle what was happening. When she got out she searched the drawers in the room like Helen had told her too and she got dressed.
She had picked out one of the nicer things in the captain’s drawers which was a blue jumpsuit uniform, probably for working in the tunnels. She tied the top around her waist and put a white T-shirt underneath it. It was practical and comfortable.
At least she didn’t have to worry about getting lost on this ship, she though as she left the room and headed for the bridge. She found the captain sitting at a console, messing with some flickering hologram, when Jemma entered she turned it off and gesture to the plate of breakfast food by another console.
Jemma sat down and took a bite, as was last time, it was very good and she was pretty hungry. The monitors and the consoles beeped through out the silence between them, until Skye turned towards her hand outstretched. | ccdc7b1870c3441d829f2b66c0f421e7 | ['2741701ebbe940c2bbe09861b54fcec0'] |
Sweater Weather
**Author's Note:**
> So I wrote this for Asexual Awareness Week but it sorta got away from me, I'm still putting it in the series though since there's Asexual Natasha if you squint and turn your head.
It was a beautiful room, a beautiful place actually, a spacious cabin with modern architecture in the middle of snowy mountains, far away from the chaos of the rest of the world. It was silent and bright with the snow falling lightly outside the large windows in the bedroom overlooking snow covered mountains and valleys.
“Natasha? Sweetie?”
Pepper called concerning into the bathroom coming off the master bedroom. There was a thunk and a small crash before a voice answered,
“Yeah? I’m good, Pep.”
Natasha’s voice was gravelly and slow, Pepper leaned with her arms crossed over her thin house robe.
“You didn’t come to bed last night, Is everything alright?”
She heard Natasha sigh, and she leaned her ear closer to the door,
“Oh that, yeah, I was in desperate need of a shower and I was to tired to take one so I just crashed on the couch, I didn’t want to get the bed dirty. I’m about to take one though, just give me a sec and then we can enjoy our day together, I promise. I can make some breakfast and then we can watch some things if you want, or we can go outside and play in the snow, I can show you how to make the perfect snowball--”
“Natasha.”
“Yeah?”
Her voice was much more agitated and impatient and Pepper shook her head and opened the door. Pepper’s mouth dropped open slightly and the shorter woman looked up expectantly, she was naked save for a pair of black underwear and had smudges of dirt and ash all over her body, Pepper eyed especially the bruises on Natasha’s lower abdomen and hips. Natasha smirked as she leaned over sideways over the sink, pulling bits of glass and plastic out of her tangled hair.
“Just another day at the office.”
Pepper looked her over with unease from the door frame,
“Sweetheart…”
Natasha put a hand to calm her down,
“It’s alright, I’ll be cleaned up in a bit and then we can have a great day.”
She smiled reassuringly up but instead of accepting Natasha’s calm voice the taller woman shook her head, her lips thin on her face and she walked over and Gently but firmly took the brush out of the other woman’s hand.
“Pep, I--”
Pepper took the shorter woman’s wrists and pulled them close, looking her in the eye, her face was serious and she shook her head pointedly.
“No. The other’s may fall for that act, but I don’t, okay? Now---”
She placed a soft kiss on Natasha’s bottom lip, closing her eyes and pulling away slowly before replacing her lips with her finger, and whispering a
“Shhh..”
Natasha made to speak again but with one quick look from the taller woman who had just walked past her, leaving her at the sink, she went silent and looked down. Her eyes drooped shut in the silence before she heard water running in the large tub behind her. She looked up as Pepper came back, putting both hands on her arms and steadying her off the sink, leading her to the tub. She moved around the shorter woman, pulling her knotted hair off of her shoulders and adding a kiss to the back of her neck. Natasha leaned her head back with a smirk, normally she didn’t allow people behind her but Pepper was a very different situation. The C.E.O traced her fingers lightly up and down Natasha’s sides, barely coming in contact with her skin, giving her just enough to make her shiver. She snuck her fingers down her body, pulling the underwear down with them, so lightly Natasha barely even felt them leave. They fell around her ankles and Pepper leaned down, placing a kiss and a quick nip to the back of Natasha’s knees.
“Step out.”
The order was delicate yet firm but Natasha obeyed, taking a small step out of the garment around her feet, letting Pepper throw them to the side. She stood up, pressing her front to Natasha’s back,
“Pep, What are you---- hhmmm…”
The taller woman had begun rolling her thumbs around Nat’s shoulder blades, hitting all of the knotted areas making her neck limp and putting a smile on her face.
“Now, into the tub.”
Natasha didn’t look back as she took a few steps toward the steaming water, she felt Pepper’s hands on her arm and her side and she knew that she wouldn’t let her fall. She stepped into the hot water which felt amazing on her skin and aching bones. Pepper guided her in, keeping her back to the taller woman and laying on the bottom with her head laying on the cool side of the tub. She felt Pepper pulling her hair up over the edge, patting it down softly.
“This is nice, baby, but I’m fine, really.”
Pepper’s mouth was close to her ear now, the hot breath making her shiver slightly,
“Stop talking and close your eyes.”
Natasha obliged and soon Peppers lips were pressed to her forehead, the woman in the tub hummed responsively,
“Good.” |
7abea12ee81348f5a29b484c963eab16 | ['2745bcd2797049ed92b07a4feb46b690'] | Donovan slung an arm over McGuire’s shoulders, “Come on, what’s bothering you? You can’t hide it from me.” His dark blue eyes glittered.
McGuire trudged to his next class under Donovan’s weight. “I’m not hiding anything, so you don’t have to give me a look like that.” He muttered.
“What look?” he mused, bouncing his black hair with a flick of his head.
McGuire met Donovan’s eyes and narrowed them, “that one. The smug look that tries to prove that you’re sly but you’re also someone I can confide in. like a cat that rolls onto it’s back offering that soft fluffiness, then getting clawed at or bitten because you fell for the trap.”
Donovan raised brows, surprised. Even though McGuire could only see one eye, the other covered by the dark hair. He knew that Donovan looked mischievous. His grin grew wider. “A cat? I really don’t keep my intentions hidden. You know that better than anyone.” He ran his tongue over his teeth.
McGuire had known Donovan for years. They had been friends since they were in grade school. Donovan had always been the more charming and outgoing one that dragged McGuire around and introduced him to others. It had been that way since the beginning and even now that’s how they were. Donovan was also good at putting on a mask and fooling people with his sugary sweet smile and attitude. McGuire knew it was a façade. Donovan was much more sinister. He wasn’t afraid to manipulate and trick others, even McGuire. Despite all of this, he’d stuck around and put up with him.
McGuire looked at Donovan’s mouth and then to his scarf. He couldn’t look at him for long. It just felt wrong, like he hadn’t earned it.
Donovan smirked and ran his hand through McGuire’s pale blue hair. “I’ve always been there for you. You know I’m a good friend.”
McGuire scowled, pressing his mouth into his own vest. “Yeah, I know.” He muttered.
Donovan smiled broadly and closed his eyes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of.” He purred and bumped McGuire’s shoulder with his own before walking off.
McGuire felt his shoulders slump as he relaxed. Being around Donovan just drained him and it always caused him to stress throughout the day. He went to his next class, staring out the window or doodling in the margins of his notebook.
School ended soon after and he hurried back to Georgia’s. He texted Marion and told her he would be studying at the library.
Zed sat outside of Georgia’s. He sat on the ground playing solitaire, his jacket laid beside him on the steps leading to the door. He looked up when he sensed someone nearby. He looked surprised to see McGuire back. “I didn’t think you’d be back.”
“Well, I want to make money and I want to get this training over with.” McGuire jogged up and placed his hands on his waist.
Zed jerked his thumb back towards the door, “She’s in there if you’re ready. I hope you have a strong stomach, because I’m not cleaning up your nasty human fluids.”
McGuire frowned and stepped over Zed’s jacket to enter the house. “You seem nicer today than you were yesterday.”
Zed rolled his single eye, “Don’t get used to it.” He muttered.
McGuire set his bag down near the doorway as he walked into the sweet smelling house once again. The difference today was the body lying on a metal table in the middle of the living room.
Georgia shuffled around, laying out instruments beside the body. She noticed McGuire standing stiffly by the door and smiled at him.
“Come over here so you can meet your first patient.” She beckoned him over.
McGuire forced his feet to move, “Is that person dead?”
Georgia nodded, “Oh yes, there’s no chance of this one waking up.” She pat the corpse’s bare chest.
McGuire peered at the body and noticed that it was completely naked, despite a simple white sheet over its genitals. The body was female.
“Why are we going to be digging around inside of a woman first?” He asked.
“Well, breasts can sometimes get in the way and it helps if you know how to handle them.” Georgia winked.
“Oh, I see. What are we taking out of her?”
“Well, we’ll go for what people usually request, which are livers or kidneys. Kidneys are the easiest because humans have two. We only take one in order to keep the patient alive.” Georgia explained, handing McGuire a pair of surgical gloves while she took a pair for herself.
McGuire slipped the gloves on and sighed, “So, are you going to show me first and then have me do it?”
Georgia tapped her chin, “well I was just going to walk you through it.”
McGuire trembled, “Really? If you really think that’s a good idea.”
Georgia smiled, “Let’s just open her up and look around. It’s good to get yourself familiar with a body.” She handed the scalpel to McGuire, who took it with trembling hands.
He swallowed and slid the scalpel down her abdomen; blood pooled up and dripped down her stomach. McGuire froze and looked down at Georgia, “I thought she was dead.”
“Well, freshly dead. Only for about thirty minutes maybe.”
McGuire looked down at the body and went to touch the skin, laying his hand on the body’s stomach. “I thought she would be all dried up.”
Georgia shook her head, almost looking confused. “No, this provides a more realistic experience.” | 06ef6c7f6bd74c34917594248dbe8ac3 | ['2745bcd2797049ed92b07a4feb46b690'] | Epsi smiled, "I really don't want to be super forward, but you're the cutest skeleton I've ever seen; and I've seen a lot of skeletons."
The sarge blinked, "that's the nicest thing that's been said to me since I've gotten here."
Epsi frowned at Vexus and ghost, "have you been giving the sarge a hard time?"
Ghost glanced at her, "only when I feel like I need to."
Epsi seemed to get distracted with something on the sarge's flight cap. "Well, go easy on him guys."
Sarge nodded, "I like her, she actually shows a little respect. That's really all I ask."
Ghost and Vexus rolled their eyes in unison.
"He acts kind of childish sometimes." Vexus confessed.
Epsi pursed her lips, "I'm just going to take the sarge off your hands for a bit then." She grabbed the skeleton by an arm and started dragging him away.
Ghost narrowed his eyes, "just bring him back soon alright?"
Epsi waved at him over her shoulder, "you got it. We'll meet up later."
Sarge shot a worried glance back at ghost. The demon gave him an encouraging nod and the sarge eventually allowed himself to be dragged away.
"The sarge isn't going to want to hang around you anymore once Epsi gives him back." Vexus said.
Ghost shrugged, "he doesn't really have a choice."
Vexus and ghost sat on a steel bench in front of the soul sphere.
"He yelled at me you know." Vexus said as he watched the souls drifting by in the sphere.
"Who? The sarge?" Ghost asked, looking amused.
"Yes, I can tell he doesn't like me."
"He's not so much a fan of me either."
Vexus looked unconvinced, "did you not notice how he looked back at you? He's depending on you to make sure he's safe."
Ghost mocked surprise, "really? Now why would he do that; I have no concern for his safety."
Vexus gave ghost a look, "you're so full of shit."
Ghost laughed and pat Vexus on the back, "alright, I guess I do look out for the little guy. But, he's in perfectly capable hands with Epsi."
"We both know Epsi, she's going to smother that skeleton with everything he could ever ask for."
"Exactly, then he comes back to the crippling reality that he's stuck with me forever."
Vexus looked genuinely surprised, "you plan to keep him around forever? You're going to toy with his emotions for the rest of eternity, really?"
Ghost looked at his hands and fiddled with his rings, "I don't know, maybe."
Vexus gave ghost a disapproving look, "I'm usually behind your ideas or schemes, but..."
Ghost glared at him, "oh, have you taken it upon yourself to be my moral compass?"
Vexus narrowed his eye and growled, "this isn't about morals. This isn't just business anymore, you're making it unnecessarily personal. That's not how you're supposed to do deals."
Ghost bristled, "I know what I'm doing. So keep out of it."
Vexus clenched his hands and forced himself to relax. "I'm just trying to be a good friend."
Ghost closed his eyes, but the eyes on his forearms look apologetically at Vexus. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just hoping the sarge will be a willing companion in the future."
Vexus put a hand on ghost's shoulder, "he's not going to be your friend if you treat him like a deal forever."
Ghost glanced at Vexus, "yeah I know."
The duo watched as a new soul swam around behind the crystal. Actually, make it two souls. Make it three. There was a river of souls flooding in the already full sphere.
Vexus stood, his eye wide in alarm. "What is going on?"
Ghost hopped to his feet and watched helplessly as soul after soul was sucked into the sphere. "Oh no."
a deafening crack echoed throughout the room.
"We've got a big problem." Vexus whispered as a chunk of crystal broke off and fell at the demon's feet.
The lost souls were free once more. |
288a49f7a15e48beb23ac78364a94e9e | ['274627dfed2d4c7283397b98b5d5b95b'] | When they began dating, Jaime had thought it would be easy to separate his romantic relationship with Brienne from their professional relationship. In practice, it was more complicated. At school, Brienne’s unpretentious sensuality distracted him, and at home, at his or hers, they argued about the curriculum or the historical accuracy of a play Jaime was staging with his drama students. Many times, they ended the arguments by having loud sex on the sofa or on a table, before one of them conceded defeat.
Jaime had spent an hour begging her to leave, and she still hadn’t listened to him. _Maybe it’s time for a different strategy_ , he thought.
He got up and stood behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. The essay she was grading looked like it was bleeding from so many revisions. It was about Aegon the Unlikely’s agricultural reform, and the author kept referring to him as “Egon”. Every time she stumbled on another “Egon”, Brienne let out a sigh before circling it with her red pencil.
Jaime leaned in until his lips were next to her ear.
“Don’t you think that’s enough?” he whispered, as he massaged her shoulders, kneading the knots that had formed in her muscles.
Brienne sighed deeply, but continued.
“I have a duty as a teacher to grade these papers in time,” she said, stubborn as ever. “I promised the girls I’d have the essays back by Monday.”
“The Others take duty. One more day isn’t going to kill them,” Jaime said. “I, on the other hand, am about to die of a stroke. That skirt you’re wearing is driving me crazy.” To drive his point home, he bit her earlobe.
Just like he’d intended, Brienne’s pale and freckled skin flushed and her red pencil stopped in its tracks.
“Not here, Jaime.”
“Then, let’s go, or I can’t be held liable for my actions.”
Jaime tugged at the collar of her blouse until her long neck was bared, and he kissed it, biting the delicate skin softly while Brienne struggled to suppress her moans.
In no time at all, Brienne had gathered the essays and locked them in her desk. They left the classroom in a hurry. If they rushed, they could catch the 3:30 train. The faster they got home, the better.
As they left the school, they bumped into Margaery, who looked at them with the smugness of someone who knows she has been right all along. Jaime knew how strange it was to see two teachers leaving together. They’d always been careful to arrive and leave in their own cars, but Jaime didn’t care today.
“I don’t blame you, mister,” Margaery said. “Not with that skirt...”
Brienne hurried towards the car, her face red, and Jaime grinned at Margaery before running after her.
3. Protection
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Brienne discovers the dangers of sunblock.
At the end of the semester, Brienne and Jaime had decided, in the spur of the moment, to buy two tickets to the Summer Islands and spend a week at a five-star beach resort. She had never been so impulsive in her life. Maybe that was why she’d agreed; she was drawn by how dangerous and exotic it was to do something without thinking twice about it. She’d even bought a blue bikini for the occasion, simply because she’d never done it before.
They were on the beach, under the scorching sun of the Singing Stones. In the distance, the cliffs that gave the island its name let out a beautiful whistle. At any other time, Brienne would have been entranced listening to that strange song, but Jaime was distracting her.
He was sitting on the lounge chair next to hers, putting sun protector on his chest. His fingers slid over his pecs, descending slowly until reaching his sculpted abs. Then he moved to his muscular arms, and Brienne swallowed thickly. _Gods, why does he have to be so gorgeous?_
It wasn’t the first time she saw her roommate shirtless, but it _was_ the first time she watched him so closely and for so long, and Brienne thanked the gods for the large sunglasses she was wearing. If she kept the book open on her lap, she could pretend she wasn’t staring.
Suddenly, the bottle of sunblock was under her nose.
“Can you put it on my back?” Jaime asked.
Brienne nodded clumsily. Jaime stretched out face down on the chair, and Brienne sat on the edge.
Her hands shook as she opened the bottle. Even his back was muscular. Brienne knew hers was also well-defined, but it looked manly and attractive on him, while her back was unfeminine and even a little repulsive.
She didn’t want to think about that. She poured lotion on Jaime’s back and began to spread it with the tips of her fingers. When she reached a particular spot on his back, Jaime let out a groan that startled her.
“I have a knot there. Can you get it out?”
Brienne had no choice but to knead the muscle, putting up with Jaime’s moans until they sounded more indecent than they really were.
Finally, she was done and returned to her chair, wiping her hands with a towel and picking her book up again.
“You’re not putting any on?” Jaime asked.
Brienne shook her head. “Later,” she mumbled.
“No, now. You’ll burn. You’re starting to look like a boiled lobster already.”
He was right. Her skin was so pale that, after a few minutes under the sun, she began to burn painfully. She took the bottle again and hurriedly rubbed lotion on her arms, legs, stomach, and chest. When she was done, she returned the bottle to Jaime.
“And your back?” he asked. “I can...” He cleared his throat. “I can do it, if you want.” | 5a4d897eae5d43b9afadd0c2e5380d87 | ['274627dfed2d4c7283397b98b5d5b95b'] | Jaime hummed with appreciation as he chewed. “You’re right, this pie’s delicious.” He twirled the fork around his thumb the way he had the first time she’d seen him at the restaurant with the kids. It made her chest hurt.
Brienne tore the fork from his grasp and slammed it down with a clatter. “Please leave. I beg you.” She intended for it to come out harsh and assertive, but she sounded pathetic and weak and pained.
He held up his hands placatingly, stood up, and… sat down at the next table over. Brienne sighed and tried to ignore the way he was staring at her. She looked down at the slice of pie he’d bit into and switched it with the one closest to her. If grubmaster finally showed up— _when, when, not if, when_ —she didn’t want him to think that she’d eaten his pie. The shop bell tinkled, but it was only a pair of elderly women holding hands.
“So, who’s this guy, anyway?” Jaime asked, leaning across the narrow aisle that separated their tables. “I imagine it’s not Mr. Hunt, the _Times’_ premier indie restaurant food critic. Will you be mean to him too?”
“No, because the man who’s coming here tonight is nothing like you. He’s kind and smart and funny and—”
“—and he’s not here,” Jaime finished.
Brienne scowled at him. “If he’s not here, he has a good reason, because there isn’t a cruel bone in his body. But I can’t expect you to understand someone like that. You don’t care about anyone but yourself and your bank account. You might think you’re doing some kind of public service, bringing bad Italian food to the masses with your dehydrated tomatoes and canned Alfredo sauce, but twenty years from now, no one will remember you, Jaime Lannister. And maybe they won’t remember me either, but plenty of people remember my father and they think his food was something special. You’re nothing but a suit.”
The air seemed to go out of the café, and Brienne’s face grew hot. Two comebacks in one day. She felt strangely proud of herself and vaguely wondered what grubmaster48 would think, until she caught the look on Jaime Lannister’s face. He almost looked… hurt. Brienne’s stomach twisted painfully.
Jaime stood up and shrugged into his coat. “I guess that’s my cue. Enjoy your evening, chef.”
The shop bell rang solemnly as he left.
**Author's Note:**
> Most of the dialogue has been shamelessly pilfered from the brilliant script by Nora Ephron. If a line made you laugh, it was probably written by her. You can watch the movie scenes LINK and LINK.
>
> Thanks to Justagirl24 for giving me feedback from the beach and for teaching me the word "suffuse". |
5b9ab88f0e264b31a1fa2660452230d6 | ['2786dc439d9e48c884f15ceff663a10b'] |
Inventions
“Umm.. yeah I can show up, just give me an hour and I’ll be there” Helen hung up the phone with a smirk on her face. Evelyn had invited her to experience new inventions at DevTech. The inventions always excited Helen , sometimes even the inventor herself. The more Helen tried to hide her feelings, the more she stumbled over her words and made it obvious that something was going on. Every now and then, Helen had fantasized what a future with Evelyn would look like. A normal house, a dog or two and coming home every night to Evelyn. But that was just a daydream.
Helen’s a super, it’s hard to have a stable relationship with someone you might lose. And even so, what would other people think about the relationship. Helen pushed the thoughts out of her head and got ready to meet Evelyn at DevTech.
On her way out, Helen checked herself one more time before grabbing her keys. She wanted to impress Evelyn with a sophisticated look instead of just showing up in a super suit. She also grabbed a soft red lipstick in case it got smudged from having a drink or two at the office. She knew Evelyn would most likely offer a glass of Fleur Petrus or any other expensive alcohol.
“Always have to be prepared for something” Helen thought with a smirk.
Helen got into the car and immediately looked at herself in the rear view mirror. “It’s alright, Helen, you look fine, you got this, there is absolutely nothing wrong, just focus on yourself, Try NOT to think about it…”
The moment Helen turned on the radio, Frank Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You under my Skin” instantly played. Helen groaned in flustered frustration over the song and quickly put the car in reverse. When Helen arrived at the company building, she took one last look before leaving the car for valet. She walked confidently into the lobby, feeling the air conditioning hit her warm face, to be met by Evelyn. Helen noticed how her navy jumpsuit and high heels made her look elegant and lean.
“Well Hello Miss Helen” Evelyn teased with a playful tone, handing her a pass key to enter all sections of the building. “You look nice” she added as they made their way to the glass elevator. “Thanks, Ev” Helen responded quietly
“So what’s new with DevTech” Helen asked through, what she thought, was awkward silence. “You know, the usual, communication devices, tracking devices, military gadgets, the works. Well I’ve come up with something a little bit different and quirky but I think it’ll change something.” Evelyn and Helen exited the elevator and used their pass keys to enter the lab. Helen was always amazed with how the lab looked. A mini bar for late night wine chats, a screening room and giant lab tables filled with scribbled blueprints and crumpled up ideas.
“Do you wear eye glasses, Helen?” Evelyn asked as she grabbed a tiny black box. “Not particularly, but only if I’m reading a novel or the paper” Helen responded as she took her place across the work table from Evelyn. “Why” Helen asked after noticing the tiny black box. “Well that’s exactly what I made” Evelyn said handing the box to Helen.
“Um, that’s great, Ev, You’re really something” Helen teased as she took the glasses out of the box. “They’re glasses with a built in screen and camera, basically they’re just made for undercover super hero work or maybe even just basic life. They work just like the suit cameras, just a little more discreet. Here let me show you” Evelyn said as she took the glasses out of Helen's hand. She moved closer to Helen, clicked a button on the side of the glasses and placed them on Helen’s face, her hand lingering a little too long on Helen’s cheek.
Helen’s cheeks and neck instantly turned a dark pink from the closeness of the other women. Her breathing was louder than normal. “Hey, are you alright, Helen?” Evelyn asked as Helen snapped out of her flustered state.
“I-I’m fine, W-why do you ask” Helen responded quickly, trying to cover up her blushed face. “Well you looked like someone slapped you silly, then took the breath out of you.” Evelyn added with some playful concern in her voice. “Oh please, It’s nothing Ev, besides these glasses are absolutely amazing!” Helen said with excitement only a child could have. “Ah well, it’s nothing compared to most of the other stuff” Evelyn said. “Other stuff?” Helen asked as she lifted the glasses off her face.
“Oh yeah, there’s some more things I wanted to show you” Evelyn said as wrapped her arm around Helen’s waist and led her to the showcase room. There were more inventions on pedestals, the larger ones took their place in the middle room. Everything was set up like a Warhol exhibit from top to bottom. Evelyn explained each one and their purpose. She also added what she disliked about them.
As hard as Helen tried to focus on what Evelyn was saying, she got caught up just staring in Awe at the other woman. She noticed her smooth jawline, soft tussled hair, and focused eyes. She just wanted to reach out and tuck a strand behind her ear, just to feel the softness of it. Helen looked down at the invention in front of her to at least pretend that she was listening. Evelyn looked back at Helen and took note on how flushed she looked. They continued through the showcase room, both taking soft glances here and there. A giggle would leave their lips if they looked at each other at the same time. For a moment, they both forgot the outside world and just enjoyed the others presence.
“Can I ask you something?” Evelyn asked as she broke the silence. “Do you.. do you think that there’s something special between us?” Evelyn said, with a bit of hesitation. The question took Helen a step back and she had to regain her composure. “ Special? Like what exactly?” Helen responded, with an idea of where the question was going. “Well, I feel like there’s a connection between us, like we could work as a team and as companions. I’ve noticed you take a liking to something more than just the inventions and I catch you here and there staring at me like kid on Christmas.”
Helen felt her face grow hot and groaned “You’ve noticed?” She responded embarrassingly. “Well to answer your question, yes. I think there is something special between us, and I like you a whole lot. You manage to make me feel beautiful and you put up with my talk of justice, and my life as a super. You show concern when I get in dangerous situations and guide me through some rough patches. Plus you listen to my costant blabbering-“
Before Helen could finish, Evelyn brought her face to hers and kissed her red lips softly but passionately. Helen met Evelyn’s energy and held her arms against her. Both women let go of themselves for a moment. They both had the same emotions and the same feelings towards each other, and now it was finally being expressed. Evelyn pulled back slowly, Helen’s face still in her hands. Helen opened her dream-lidded eyes and stared at Evelyn with tenderness. Helen started giggling softly when she looked at Evelyn.
“What” Evelyn blurted out, cheeks turning red. “Ev, you just got some of my lipstick smeared on your mouth” Helen responded through the giggles. “Ugh oh my god..” Evelyn responded with embarrassment. “Well now you know what it feels like to be me..” Helen said, bringing Evelyn’s hips close to hers. She knew that they were both on the same level and that they didn’t even need to explain themselves. She was content.
**Author's Note:**
> This fic was based off of some cute stuff I’ve been through but that’s a story for another day | 1d8a63f31d934218b7634493ccbd91b9 | ['2786dc439d9e48c884f15ceff663a10b'] |
Evelyn’s Nightmare
The room was filled with darkness with only a tiny blue screen illuminating the walls. The only sounds that filled the room were the fan and the static of TV. Evelyn awoke and got up slowly. She squinted slightly at the bright light that the TV had produced. Her first thought was her sleepy morning routine. Comb your hair, brush your teeth, wash your face, fix breakfast and then leave for the day. Simple as ever, she thought. She swung her legs around and got up from bed, eyes still weary from sleeping. Passing by the opposite side of the bed that wasn’t tussled, Evelyn stopped and stared at the neatly made side.
She continued anyways without a thought and stumbled towards the master bedroom bathroom and stared at her appearance in the mirror. Black circles under her eyes, ruffled hair, and wrinkled pajamas from the nightmare-induced night before. As she started her routine, she noticed something felt empty or missing even. The feeling lingered enough to bring some paranoia to herself. The feeling grew bigger before stopping herself in her tracks.
“No, you’re just paranoid, nothing to worry about Ev..” she thought
She brushed it off and finished her routine. Evelyn made her way down the stairs and to the kitchen to make breakfast. She opened the cabinet to find single plates, single coffee mugs and cups, and only a limited number of pans. The kitchen was filled of single anything and everything. Coldness filled the kitchen and bar as she turned the stove on for eggs and bacon.
She served her breakfast on a single plate, grabbed a fork and headed to the empty dining room. She sat on one side of the end of the table. She opened the paper the maid had set down and read articles over supers in hiding and what is being done about rising crime. While finishing up the article, she noticed the other empty side of the table and felt the lingering feeling of paranoia again. Something was absolutely missing.
“ Alone. That’s what it is, I’m alone” she thought. Evelyn’s Head started to fill with images and fantasies of what it could be like to be loved or held even by someone wonderful. She chuckled and said “ that would be nice, to be loved. It could happen, Ev, if you weren’t so stuck up all the time”
The thought voice had changed. It wasn’t her inner voice, rather a regular voice.
A deep voiced echoed the house and yelled insults and profanities at her. All relating her her loneliness and how she can’t be loved. They changed back and forth to how she can’t do anything right and how even Winston can’t stand to be near her, let alone a significant other. The voice continued to get louder and harsher and it all lead itself to get closer to Evelyn. Fear finally drove Evelyn to run and corner herself away from what was threatening her. She figured out quickly that there was no escape from what could happen next.
The coldness increased and wrapped itself around Evelyn, making its way towards her throat. It was a force that was became increasingly difficult to break free from and grew tighter the more she squirmed. Every nerve was on had tightened up with pain as if she had been stuck in the cold for hours and her eyes started to grow wide and swell from the huge tears running down her face. The voice was in both her ears now and Evelyn felt the breath of the voice on her neck and cheek.
“You really think you can have someone to love?! You don’t have anyone, you’re alone, you don’t deserve anyone. Even Winston can’t stand to be near you, let alone someone else!” The voice yelled as it started making its appearance.“Even I wouldn’t love someone like you..” the voice taunted.
The voice formed a silhouette of a woman and started to create a face. Evelyn glimpsed at the face and screamed but nothing came out. The cold force turned into multiple elastic arms and started to increase its grip
“H-Helen.. please.. let me go.. I-I’m sorry..” Evelyn’s voice choked out as Helen squeezed tighter. She squirmed more and more, she yelled Helen’s name louder and louder, both voices that were hers and Helen's reached its peak.
“HELEN P-PLEASE!..”
Evelyn’s now hoarse voice echoed until two hands shook her awake. She spun around to see Helen in her pajamas with a look of extreme worry on her face. Evelyn brought her hands to her own face and felt sweat or maybe even tears smeared all over. She looked up to see the TV was static as the fan was moving all the same. She looked back at Helen and said “I was dreaming again…”
“No, honey it was another nightmare..” Helen corrected her quickly
Evelyn took a while to speak up. “You know, the dream opens the same every single time I have it, where everywhere I want you to be is empty and everything is cold. It’s always lonely and there’s never anything that shows a sign of anyone else…and it always goes so quickly”
Helen looked intently at Evelyn and started to ask quietly “Was I in the dream?..”
Evelyn looked up slowly and said with sorrow, as if it had actually happened “ You were using your powers to choke me out.. you kept saying how no one could love me..” Evelyn’s eyes welled up again at the thought of Helen taking her life in anger. “It just..felt so real, Helen” Evelyn choked out through silent tears.
“Oh..Honey, you know I could never do anything like that to you..remember it was only a dream” Helen cupped Evelyn’s cheek and brought her close to her chest.
Evelyn gripped Helens torso and arm, afraid that if she let go, she would float off to nothingness. Helen ran her fingers softly through Evelyn’s messy hair, hoping it would relieve her of the emotional state she was in.
After only 10 minutes of just that, Helen heard Evelyn snore softly and set her onto her own pillow. Helen laid down as well and put her arm over Evelyn’s torso.
“Yep, that did the trick” Helen thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep.
**Author's Note:**
> This is one of my first fics, have mercy on me lmao |
25e165a2a40d44f2968cd798a4a60a53 | ['278b21c75ab045f882f7f1745f039e9e'] | "I'm sorry for that day. I thought you were a staff or manager, I know it's stupid. But I never wanted to anger you." He just didn't say anything and left. The next day was different, seokjin was still tense but he looked determined than ever and it worked. Seokjin sang that note perfectly and looked at yoongi for approval. He gave seokjin a thumbs up, and that's all seokjin needed before breaking into a smile. That night he walked into the dorm with a paper bag filled with cupcakes, he reasons himself that it's just for him but he doesn't even like red velvet. He keeps it besides seokjin's bedside and goes to sleep in his own bed. Maybe that cupcake were a way to let seokjin know that he has forgiven him and is not mad anymore, but he knew it was also a way to apologize to seokjin too for the way he has behaved. He realized, for the first time in a while that he cared but it won't be too bad to care for seokjin, would it?
\--
The crowd looks like bright, just like always. He doesn't think it makes a difference where they perform, the crowd is always same, energetic, loving and supporting. Standing at the stage and looking at the crowd reminds him why he works hard everyday. He knows he will get tired of everything one day, idol life, fake friends, people who only like him because he's famous but he hopes he would never get tired of this feeling when he stands on the stage. And when seokjin comes backstage after finishing his solo stage amazingly, he gives seokjin a thumbs up. That's all he can do. He laughs at himself while he's drinking at the bar in their hotel. He can hug seokjin, he can kiss him, he can do so much more but he knows he should not. It's a promise he made, to both seokjin and himself, and he can't hurt seokjin again.
"Wow you didn't notice me come in, must be thinking about sleeping." Hoseok said.
"Can we leave those jokes for when we do Vlives or stuff."
"Fine, whatever hyung says."
"Hyung also said something about team resting and sleeping, not drinking in the middle of the night."
"It will be good to say a few words to him, although I do understand that's not how you both work."
"Is that why you're here? And I thought hobi wanted to spend time with me."
"I'm sorry. I get worried."
"Here, have this drink and sleep. I'll worry enough for all of us."
"And that's not what we want." Hoseok said as he exits. He doesn't ignore hoseok's word, but he doesn't think about them much either. He knows where hoseok comes from, and he knows why hoseok worries so much, it's all because of him, because he was weak. But he doesn't know if he wants to rub out anything from the past, he has gotten attached to every thing, every person and every feeling, even if he has gotten hurt by them. He does wish about erasing seokjin's pain.
\--
It was a night of their comeback for "I need you". He was laying next to seokjin on his bed. Both a happy mess because of how many positive responses they have gotten for this comeback. He won't say they're both best friends, but they had a connection, a strong one. He found peace in seokjin's presence and seokjin never complained about him either so he guessed they clicked.
"I'm so happy yoongi." Seokjin said giggling violently.
"You should be, we all should be."
"I'm so excited to perform tomorrow, what if we win yoongi?!".
"Woah slow down there, there's so many better groups."
"Don't be like that. No one's better, we're just all different."
"That's some wise words, wonder who told you." Yoongi said, trying to cover his smile.
"Well there was this very good looking guy, a little grumpy, short, moody--, but very good looking." Seokjin said giggling again.
"Well I'll let you go this time." Yoongi said looking at seokjin, and they stared at each other for a while. He has come to take interest in seokjin's eyes. Sometimes he feels like those eyes are trying to tell him something, show him feelings but he cannot figure out. A noise from the living room breaks whatever magic they experienced in that short period of time.
\--
Their next destination is Thailand. They get into their hotel rooms and try to rest. Seokjin was in the shower and yoongi tried to sleep, but he knew it was useless. His mind kept replaying his conversation with hoseok. Was it really visible to everyone that he and seokjin don't talk much? He would not be surprised if it was. Although he did not find it a big deal. He did not had to use words to tell seokjin something, seokjin always understood his actions. He feels like something is troubling seokjin too, he did saw hoseok and seokjin talking at the airport, well more like arguing, but he will pretend like he did not see anything. Maybe hoseok went to seokjin too. He's busy in his little world until seokjin speaks.
"Are you joining others for lunch?"
"I'm tired, I'll eat later." He says and turns over. He exhales a sigh when he hears the door getting closed. He wakes up after a few hours and seokjin is still asleep, but he notices a pizza box by his side table. Sometimes he wonders how seokjin has not given up on him yet, when he has given up on himself quite a few times. He is thankful that seokjin still holds him up because he knows the day seokjin gives up on him, he will be left with numbness and nothing else.
\-- | 9afad1b6ec1042beac917cb2dfed43c1 | ['278b21c75ab045f882f7f1745f039e9e'] | They did win it. It's their first win and he doesn't know how to feel. He has always known the feeling of working hard, he does not how to feel when his hard work is rewarded. He's happy, he's buzzed, he feels like he could actually fly if he tried to. He's alone in his room with seokjin, the manager asked them to sleep because they have an early broadcast recording tomorrow.
"Yoongi can you believe it? Because I cannot, oh my god." seokjin said smiling so wide, yoongi swears his heart swells at the sight. They're both huddled on the same bed, too tired to move their limbs, facing each other.
"I know seokjin."
"Also I'm proud of you yoongi."
"Me?"
"Yes you. There were a lot of people who told you that your songs weren't worth it and even questioned your talent because you debuted as an idol but you still stood strong yoongi, I would not be able to do that." seokjin told him with such honesty in his eyes that his heart skipped a beat. It feels good to have someone proud of him, someone who believes in him, it's even better that, that someone is seokjin.
"And that's why yoongi, you deserve a rare seokjin hug."
"How is it rare if you hug everyone all the time?"
"Don't ruin it." Seokjin whispers as he hugs him and he embraces it. He sighs, he really needed this hug, more than he thought. He loved being this close to seokjin, he loved the feeling of seokjin's soft hair on his face and he loved seokjin's breath in his ear. He doesn't know what happened but the atmosphere changed, in a small moment they became more intimate than they ever were. So he was saddened when it was time to pull back. He stared at seokjin and didn't let go. He wanted to say something but he could not find the words, so he just simply lean in, it's okay , seokjin will push him away. But he doesn't expect seokjin to lean in too. The kiss makes him want to get lost in seokjin and never be found. Like the hug, the broke the kiss too and seokjin gives him a shy smile so he smiles back. He should be freaked, he should be scared but right now he feels so warm with seokjin in his arms that he doesn't think about anything else.
\--
They are on the stage again, this time in Malasiya. And he usually tries to stay unaffected when others joke around but this time he cannot.
"Namjin duo !!" Taehyung shouted.
"Army !! They're our mom and dad right?" Jimin said smiling widely. He clenched his teeth, trying to uphold his expressions. He hated 'namjin',But he doesn't do anything about it, he just stands there and watches them having fun. Hoseok is looking at him with an apologetic smile, he looks away, he doesn't need this pity. He tried to block their words and focuses on the crowd laughing and awing over 'namjin'. It's okay, he thinks, these fans paid for a good time and they should have it
. "Both hyungs look like a couple." Jimin said into the mic, laughing.
Yoongi looks at the crowd, their smiles, because it's all that matters anyway. So why does it feels like someone just crushed his heart into pieces?
\--
He accepted the fact that he liked kissing seokjin, a lot. There were no words exchanged but only shy smiles. He waited for every opportunity where he could kiss seokjin but his much loved spot to kiss seokjin was in their bedroom, behind closed doors where they were not scared of someone walking in. He found peace with seokjin. He knew they should talk about it but somehow they never did. He knew seokjin liked these short lived private moments with him as much as he did. When they were not kissing, they would just be cuddling, talking about their difficulties and their dreams. He was not sure what they were or what was the meaning of this feeling he gets only when he's with seokjin. A part of him wanted to find out and a part of him was afraid of what this actually meant, so he just kept tip toeing around it, because it's always easier to ignore the problem than to face it. He doesn't want to give seokjin any dishonest hope, any false feelings but how does he talk about it when he doesn't know what it means.
\--
He knows he's being irrational, he should not be acting like this, he's an adult. But he needs some time on his own, so it's okay to avoid them, it's not like he's being insolent or snapping at them, it's almost not even noticable, almost. But seokjin notices of course and keeps giving him worried glances, he honestly does not need them right now. Seokjin was perfectly fine standing there enjoying the whole 'namjin' bullshit, as if he did not had any idea about how much it was hurting him. But he can not blame seokjin, it's not like he could say anything in front of thousands of people nor can he blame jimin and tae, because they did not even do knew anything. So there's no one to blame but himself, because he let it all happen, he let seokjin go, he was not trying to get him back, because he was not strong enough. Because if he was strong, seokjin would have been his and everyone would be awing over them.
He huffs and waits for the elevator so he could go to his room before seokjin, it's useless because seokjin is not going to confront, he never did. Just as the doors were about to close, jungkook squeezed in. It was clear the kid wanted to say something because he was cracking his knuckles and blinking fast, a sign the kid was nervous.
"Hyungareyouangrywithme?" Jungkook blurted. |
5ef2f040bd1741b79c4a0c32776b2827 | ['2795d6bab3874163a0546c3930d8ce8a'] |
The Wager
**Author's Note:**
> The flashback is from s03e01 "Ghost" an episode which also contained a discussion between Shawn and his mother about his lack of second dates and commitment, so you could say it inspired this fic.
_1995_
_Carlton Lassiter was a rookie cop, eager to please but not very knowledgeable. So when a big-shot detective yelled at him to book someone, he didn’t know what to do. Was he really talking to_ him _? He had been too busy trying to get a good look at the kid he arresting._
_“Nevermind! I’ll get him,” the detective snarled after Lassiter’s failure to immediately respond._
_He watched him drag the punkass teenager across the floor and harrumphed to himself. The stupid rebel. He’d just put Lassiter on Henry Spencer’s bad side. “I hope you never get a girlfriend,” he muttered._
Present
Carlton Lassiter strode across the station floor like he owned it because he practically did. He was head detective and this was his domain. Spying Shawn and Gus bickering at the water cooler- over something trivial, no doubt, like their favorite CHIPS character- he made his way over to them.
“What seems to be the problem? Can’t decide which filthy food truck to go to today?” he snarked.
“Actually,” Gus answered, “I was just trying to give Shawn some sound relationship advice.”
“Spencer? In a relationship?”
“Exactly my point,” said Gus.
“It’s been known to happen!” Shawn put in indignantly.
“Shawn, the last girlfriend you had for more than a week was in high school.”
“Not true! I dated Melinda for three weeks!”
“If by ‘dated’ you mean ‘harassed and stalked’ then sure.”
“Can I help it if we like all the same restaurants?”
“She put out a restraining order on you Shawn.”
Lassiter chuckled. “Oh Spencer. Will you ever be in a relationship?”
“I’m really good at first dates,” Shawn explained.
“I bet you couldn’t make it to a second date if you tried,” said Lassiter.
“I certainly could! I have game, man.”
“I’ll bet you $20 you can’t. Actually, I bet you $20 you can’t even find a girl you’re interested enough in to bother taking her for a second date. In, say, the next two weeks.”
“You’re on,” said Shawn, shaking his hand with emphasis.
Lassiter walked away laughing to himself.
“Well, you just lost 20 bucks,” said Gus.
“Ye of little faith!”
“Let’s face it Shawn. You hate commitment. You won’t even admit you like a girl for more than a day. You’re screwed.”
Shawn just looked determined. “I will win this bet. I am going to beat Lassie.”
DAY ONE
Shawn took a seat at the bar. “Beer please.”
He looked around. He could find someone nice and interesting right here, right now. Win the bet in a day. Wouldn’t Lassiter be surprised.
Hmmm. There was a blonde to his right. She was hot, that was a good start. He sipped his drink. He looked at her hand and saw an indentation on her ring finger. Married, and cheating. Next.
There was dark skinned woman with dreads behind him. He turned to observe her out of the corner of his eye. She was also looking at the blonde. Lesbian. Next.
The yoga instructor was a health nut, so she was out. The brown eyed girl in the back smoked marijuana; his father would certainly chew him out if he went after her. There was a promising looking brunette, but she had a boyfriend.
Just as Shawn was giving up hope, a tall redhead slid into the seat next to him. “Hey,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied. “How are you tonight?”
“I’m doing great, yeah,” she replied. She had a harsh British accent. “How about you?”
“I solved a murder today, so…pretty well.”
She looked spooked. “You a copper?”
“Am I a penny?”
She rolled her eyes. “A policeman.”
“Oh, no,” Shawn laughed. “I just work with them sometimes. I’m a psychic detective.”
“A psychic, huh?”
“You’re a skeptic?”
“Tell me what I’m about to do,” she challenged.
“It doesn’t work like-“ Shawn was interrupted by her lips on his.
“Didn’t see that coming, did you psychic boy?” she taunted.
“No, but I did see you steal my wallet.” He held out his hand. “I’m going to need that back.”
She looked panicked.
“Relax, I’m not going to report you. I’m not a copper or whatever. Just give me my wallet back.”
She tossed it to him and slid off the stool. “Pity. We could have had a nice night.”
“Yeah, while you robbed me blind,” he muttered as she walked away. He put his head down on the counter. This was impossible. He was definitely losing this bet.
He heard another body sit down next to him.
“Not going well, Spencer?” said a deep voice.
“Lassie?” he said, picking his head up off the counter.
“Scotch, please,” Lassiter ordered.
“Why are you here?” Shawn asked.
“I thought I’d come see how you were doing. It doesn’t look like you’ve been very successful.”
“It’s the first day Lassie. Give me some time to work some magic.”
“I’m not holding my breath.”
They made small talk, about cases and things at the station. Shawn found that Lassiter was surprisingly easy to talk to. A few drinks in, Lassiter started talking about him and Victoria.
“I laugh at you, Spencer, but I really can’t blame you. What’s the use of commitment when it’s just going to end ugly anyway?” Lassie said with more emotion than he had intended.
Shawn was silent for a moment. “My parents split when I was in high school,” he said quietly. “It really messed me up. I guess I’m scared to go through that again.” _Why the hell am I telling Lassiter this?_ Shawn decided he shouldn’t order any more beers.
“I don’t know why people even bother. Relationships never work for long,” said Lassiter, sounding sad. | 1c48fa450a0c400abda0c205cd7d83d4 | ['2795d6bab3874163a0546c3930d8ce8a'] | He had made a feeble attempt to decorate that matched his hopes that Shawn would come home. That was the only reason he decorated at all- he knew Shawn would have insisted on it. So he gave in and put up a few strings of lights with the vague hope Shawn would get to see them.
He was just drifting off to sleep when the doorbell rang. Grumbling, Lassiter clambered out of his La-Z-Boy. If these were carolers, he was going to threaten to arrest them for trespassing. They had no business trying to spread Christmas cheer; he was quite content to be miserable, thank you very much.
Ready to start his lecture, he flung open the door, but the words caught in his throat. He stared at the figure on his doorstep.
“Shawn?” he choked out finally.
“Hiya, Lassie,” said the fake psychic, with much less gusto than usual.
Lassiter stood with his mouth agape for a moment before recovering himself and inviting Shawn inside.
Shawn flashed him a quick smile. “Thank you, I’m sorry to impose, I just have nowhere to stay because they rented out my apartment while I was gone, and Gus is out of town visiting family, and I don’t really want to stay with my dad but I can if you don’t want me to stay here, I just thought-”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Lassiter interrupted. Taken aback though he was, he was happy to see Shawn again.
“You’re not… mad at me?” Shawn asked. It was strange, seeing him so unsure of himself.
The corner of Lassiter’s mouth twitched upward. “No, Shawn. I’m just happy to see you again.” The younger man’s face broke into a wide grin.
“I missed you too, Lassie.” There was a brief moment where the head detective was unsure of what to do, but before he could do anything, Shawn launched himself at him and encircled him in the tightest hug Lassiter had ever experienced. He hugged Shawn back, taking a deep breath of Shawn’s pineapple scented shampoo. God, he had missed that smell. Shawn, for his part, had buried his face in Lassie’s chest, listening to the reassuringly steady heartbeat.
When Shawn finally released him, he seemed to have regained the peppy spark he usually had. “So, Lassifrass, do you have any plans for tonight?”
Lassiter shook his head. Shawn’s smile widened.
“Do you want to make some Christmas cookies? I can whip up some hot chocolate while we bake, and then we can decorate them, and take them to the station to share…”
“I’m not sure I have the ingredients for cookies,” Lassie said, hating to ruin Shawn’s plans.
“Oh, don’t worry, I got some on the way here,” said Shawn, rummaging around in one his bags. “I even found a pineapple cookie cutter!”
Lassiter rolled his eyes. He was so, so glad this dork was home. Speaking of which…
“Shawn, why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
“I wasn’t entirely sure I would be home… I didn’t decide to come until yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Lassiter exclaimed. “How did you find a seat?”
“I didn’t,” said Shawn. “One of their flight attendants got sick, so I volunteered.”
Lassie raised an eyebrow. “And they just let you?”
Shawn shrugged, the picture of innocence. “They were desperate.” Lassiter stared him down. “Okay, so I might have told them I was an attendant for another airline and I was on vacation. I did a great job, though!”
Lassiter tried really hard not to laugh. He could only imagine what Shawn’s interpretation of being a great flight attendant was. Instead of commenting, he chose to get out a rolling pin. He turned to ask Shawn what kind of cookies they were making first, only to find Shawn’s arm stretched high in the air and his face only inches from his own.
“I grabbed some mistletoe, too,” the fake psychic smirked. “Just in case.” Lassiter closed the distance between them and decided that this Christmas was going to be good, after all.
3. White Christmas
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> A slightly unrealistic story that needed to be written, because snow.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> White Christmas- The Glenn Miller Orchestra
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQtHPLqf9E8
It was Christmas Eve, and Shawn’s one wish had not come true. All he wanted was a white Christmas; he had dreamed of it since he was a kid. He knew, living in Santa Barbara, this was unlikely at best, but he still hoped for a miracle every year. He had traveled all over the country and seen plenty of snow, but never on Christmas. He felt he had been gypped out of a quintessential element of Christmas.
“Lassie, let’s watch _Holiday Inn_ ,” he suggested. At least he could pretend to see snowfall on Christmas Eve.
“It’s already in the DVD player,” Lassiter responded. He knew Shawn’s greatest wish, and that this would be his way of coping with it not being fulfilled. He was the same every year. This, their seventh Christmas together, was no different.
They were settling down on the couch as the first strains of “Happy Holidays!” came from the television. Their first Christmas together, Lassiter had made the mistake of asking why Shawn watched _Holiday Inn_ instead of _White Christmas_. He was promptly educated about the history of the song and the superiority of Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire as a team to Bing and Danny Kaye.
By the end of the movie, Shawn was quite sleepy and headed off to bed with the assurance that Lassie would be there soon after. When Shawn was safely out of the room, Lassiter pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“Gus! He’s in bed. Are we a go?... Okay, see you in ten.” He hung up and went to make sure Shawn was asleep. He was glad Shawn was a heavy sleeper. |
a81d1ead35004110b7ac0190c8c7ebf0 | ['279f7f1b4a3e4d1cb78e4bccc918984c'] | “Are you serious? What the hell am I doing that is supposed to hurt him?”
“Make up your mind, T. It’s either you want him or you don’t,” Chiddy blurts, before regretting his words later. Scott is never going to forgive him.
She stares at him, shaking her head in disbelief, before dropping her gaze. “I did. Four years ago.” She picks up her purse, and hastily stands up.
Chiddy follows suit, wary. “T, I’m sorry. Come on. Stay.”
“I’m sorry too. Send my regards to Liz and baby Jesse. See you around, Chiddy.”
* * *
**_Autumn 2023_ **
She stops going to his place right after coming back from Vancouver. It takes him a total of one day before dropping by her office demanding an explanation. Since that incident last summer where she went off to Montreal without informing him, she subtly lets him on her schedule, if at all just to ease his concern.
“I can’t do this anymore, Tess.”
The day has finally come. She shrugs. “Okay.”
His face crumples at her nonchalance. Her heart clenches, but when it comes to one Scott Moir, she is done putting her heart on the line for him.
He cups his forehead, shaking his head from side to side. “But I can’t imagine being with someone else.”
“What are you talking about? You were an expert jumping from one woman to another. Photographic evidence full on the internet, I’d say,” she says breezily, purposely trying to jab where it hurts.
“How many times do I have to say sorry for Jackie, Tessa? I'll do it. But how are we moving forward if you can’t ever forgive me?” he begs, pulling her hands in his.
“I don’t care to hear you being sorry, Scott. Two odd decades told me you are consistent, you shouldn’t be apologetic in your way. But don’t expect me to take it and go,” she replies, her gaze steady, her hands limp in his.
Him falling to his knees brings her back to five years ago, where he was pleading her in a similar tone. “I’m not that guy anymore. I swear, the past five years and Sam has taught me how to love you, when I didn’t love you enough before.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to be here with you. I am grateful that you met Sam, he is a hell of a man, and you meeting him made me realise the consequences of losing you. For the first time, the narrative was different. It opened my eyes that you were never coming back to me, not anymore.
“But we are given a second chance here, T. To be together. To be each other’s pillars, like we used to be. Let me be your person again, Tess.”
She swipes the tears that fall on her cheeks angrily. Universe has been fucking with her for the past two and a half decades and she is done bottling is in. “I refuse to believe that my fate is with _you_. That out of _all_ the men in this world, I keep on ending up with _you_. The man who had hurt me countless times. The man who had left me more than once.”
Her words hit him and he stumbles backward on his knees. “What, do you want me to be the one who died, instead of Sam? Is that it?” he croaks, pointing to himself.
“Fuck you, Scott! Why do you talk shit like that? Why do you have to bring Sam up?” she cries, pushing him on his shoulders angrily.
He catches both her fists in his hands, trying to pull her down on him. “I’m the one who’s here, Tess. I’m the one who’s alive. Why can’t you live for me? Why do you keep on living for the dead?” he sobs.
“Because the dead brought me so much happiness the three short years we were together. You, on the other hand, broke my heart so many times the two decades we were not together. Do the math, Scott.” She pulls herself from his grasp roughly and marches to open her front door. “Please. Go. And don’t come back.”
* * *
**_Winter 2023_ **
He’s not there but he’s definitely there.
She is not making any sense.
That pink peonies arrangement at the corner of her room, for example. Every five days, she would get a new arrangement just to replace the old, drying ones. Every bouquet comes with some sort of captions, or quotes, or straight up Scott Moir romcom ™ speeches, which she collects and stores in the bottom drawer of her workstation.
She has lunch deliveries every single day, arriving at 12. The menu consists of everything he had ever cooked for her, especially back during their Montreal era, with a few addition from the past year of their co-existence. His culinary skill is at its peak, and begrudgingly, not a single bite go wasted.
She runs into him, at M&M a few times, the park about twice a week, the gym almost every other day. He would look at her, and she would avert his gaze, and he would respect the distance and send her off with a nod as if saying to take care.
She keeps on waiting for a new woman to be in town. Maybe running into them while having dinner downtown. Or shopping for groceries together at Metro. Or Alma updating Kate about her son’s dating status.
One card in particular she keeps in her purse reads:
“Because for as long as it takes, I’ll be here, Tess. I’m right here. I’m never going to give up on you. On us. I love you. Til the end of time.”
Just to remind herself when he surfaces with a new girlfriend, she’s going to rub it to his face that he is all talk, never more than that. | c3f1321286d74f4ba63f342f5e04238e | ['279f7f1b4a3e4d1cb78e4bccc918984c'] | “We quit dancing, remember?” Tessa reminds gently. She tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind Poppy’s ear. Her left arm still in a cast, making it hard for the little girl to control her straying strands.
“But you have to dance on your wedding day!”
“I can dance with you at home later?”
Poppy stares at her aunt, her jaw dropping. “Your see-vel thing sounds boring, Aunt T.”
Tessa sighs. It's pretty much inevitable at this point. “I know.”
* * *
Tessa stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks are hollowed in more than usual. The bags under her eyes are pretty salvageable, thanks to Clinique Repair Laser Focus. Her skin, slightly golden, courtesy of summer.
But her eyes have lost their usual sparks, she realises. Her scrutiny ventures lower to her tits, humble as they are, and she further caves in, her shoulders dropping, remembering how her future husband’s previous ‘life partners’ were always gifted in that department.
Her loose t-shirt masks her abdomen, but she is aware, even her abs are fading, due to less regimented gym time, and more indulgence to chocolates, much to Poppy’s delight. She smiles slightly, remembering the claps she was awarded with after nailing a particular chocolate pudding recipe a few nights back. Poppy is always a staunch supporter, and for that, she is eternally grateful, although it's costing her a few extra pounds on the scale.
The civil ceremony is tomorrow, and tonight Kate insisted that Tessa get enough rest (and to think thoroughly about her decision). Midori wanted to throw a hen party, at which Tessa had scoffed at. Jordan insisted on being the maid of honor, since Charlie had called her for some best man details.
_“You don’t have to come, Jo. It’s literally just a signing.”_
_Jordan snorted through the phone. “In which universe would I not attend my own little sister’s wedding?”_
_“It’s not a wedding,” she repeated monotonously._
_“Civil ceremony, wedding, same difference,” Jordan lectured. “And it’s totally unfair if Charlie, Danny and Kevin are gonna be there and I’m not.”_
_“Fine. Come.”_
_“I’m going to call Dori up so that we could match or something.”_
_“Come on. Do we have to make a big deal out of it?”_
_“Of course we do!”_
_“It’s not even a real marriage, Jo.”_
_There was a pause, followed by Jordan’s sniffles. “You know, in another realm, I’d be rejoicing at the thought of you marrying Scott.”_
_“Just not this realm, huh?”_
_“He does love you, baby girl.”_
_She had smiled. “Just not the way it’s required to maintain a marriage, eh?”_
_“You don’t know that.”_
_It was Tessa’s turn to snort. “Oh no, trust me. I do know.”_
_“Have you guys talked?”_
_“Yeah, we do.”_
_“Huh. Funny, cause it sounds like you guys barely do any talking at all.”_
So far, the amount of people outside her immediate family who knows about their nuptial can be counted with one hand.
Sam.
She looks up to the mirror again. Will he remember her? Will he wonder about her?
They had met up earlier today at the park, after sending off Poppy to Kate’s.
_“Dori told you,” she said, upon seeing his face._
_He had nodded, solemn. Even in his most serious demeanor, there was a gentle spirit that called to her._
_“I’m sorry,” she spoke, her voice breaking._
_His face softened, and he stepped closer, before minding his distance. His hesitance made her heart fractured more._
_“Don’t cry, Tessa. I can’t stand seeing you cry,” he said, voice low, his hand reaching out, then fell flat by his side._
_A tear rolled down her cheek. “You can touch me, you know.”_
_“I know. I’m just afraid, if I start touching you, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”_
She’s going to miss seeing the way he looked at her. She hasn’t had that in awhile.
_You’re tiring, Virtue._
The voice echoing in her head.
Not to Sam.
_You’re hard to love._
She shakes her head. Not to Sam.
_Are you sure?_
_Why are you entering a marriage where you’re unwanted then?_
_I’m wanted. Sam wants me._
_Well, you can try to find out._
She doesn’t hesitate when she grabs her car keys and drives off, tomorrow be damned.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm just glad RL Tessa is happier than my T. Sorry :(
17. Chapter 17
He is too anxious to wait for her inside, so he parks himself outside, leaning against the wall near the stairs leading to the entrance. The immediate Virtue clan has arrived sans the main star. Jordan had given him a look, her face unreadable, saying, _“T is on her way. She’s making a pitstop.”_
His heart pounds in his chest. Did she go back to Sam’s this morning?
Last night, he was just driving up her lane when he noticed her car driving off the opposite direction. He had wanted to sit her down in private, to look her directly in the eye and to tell her how he’s sorry for the past few months. He had wanted to tell her that he’s marrying her not only because of Poppy, but because she is the love of his life, and he’s sorry he had forgotten that for the past few months he was with another woman.
But the words were choked in his throat when he realised that the house that she had pulled at belonged to one doctor with tousled blonde hair, who greeted her at the door with something akin of regret and longing on his face.
When the door had closed behind her, he was attacked with a myriad of emotions, with mental images of her being kissed by the blonde man so passionately against the door. When he rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the images, a new projection appeared, in which the doctor had pulled his skating partner to wrap her legs around his hips, as he walked them both to his bedroom. |
0923613952a84035b5d96d1c004e3a03 | ['27aff9399dcf48dabcdbf5024044a173'] | As much as Yang hated to admit it, the man had a very valid point. Yang was so wet she could feel it soaking into the fabric of her shorts. She needed to get off, and she needed it badly. The guy may have been a total douchebag, but he was a damn fine one. Plus, if Yang had to be completely honest with herself, this wouldn’t be the first douchebag she slept with. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either. Actresses tended to fall for assholes a lot harder than most other people. Stereotypical, but true.
The man put his lips within range, but didn't kiss her. He wanted Yang to come to him, though he probably didn’t anticipate how fervent she would be when she did it. She dug all ten of her fingernails into his cheek and neck and crashed her mouth to his with so much force their front teeth clinked together upon impact. Their tongues found their way to each other easily enough, just as his hands found their way to the small of her back and the curve of her ass.
The way his calloused fingers searched her was pure electrifying. Every inch he traced left a burning sensation that simmered into a cluster of tingles before evaporating . It was so intoxicating, Yang wished he could just touch all of her at once.
Yang dragged her hands from his face and smoothed them over his chest and shoulders, amazed by how in-shape this guy was.
“You work out?” Yang asked, smiling against his mouth.
He smiled right back. “I’m surprised you don’t hear me when I do,” he said before claiming her lips with his own again.
She actually had a sassy comeback for that, but he’d chosen that precise moment to slide his hand into her shorts and restimulate her. Yang gasped, freeing his mouth and permitting him to trail featherlight kisses down her neck as his fingers rubbed harder. Yang whined with the enhanced pressure, which made the man snicker.
“I _know_ you can be louder than that,” he said, voice low and provocative. He hitched a finger inside of her and elicited a sharp yelp that proved his point.
Yang lolled her head, but kept her gaze locked with his. “You want me to be louder?” she asked, her voice breathy. “Make me.”
The challenge sparked a light in the man’s gunmetal gray eyes that in turn sparked something deep within her. He stretched another finger inside of her and positioned his thumb against her clit, much more forceful than before. Her mouth contorted with the moan that produced and her arms clung to him for stability, but once she regained her balance she reached her hand down to his pants and rubbed his crotch through his slacks.
Of course he was already rock hard, but the groan she got from him was more of a turn on than anything else he’d done to her. “You’re so _noisy,”_ she laughed, cupping him just as hard as he was touching her. “Why?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t think it’s hot as hell. I could literally feel you twitch,” he said between pants.
Guilty as charged, though Yang didn’t protest. She unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down and off, sliding out of his grasp in the process. Instead of rising back up to meet him, she got down on her knees and wet her lips. Knowing what was coming, the man raked his fingers through the top of Yang’s hair, tightening his hold when Yang took him in her mouth.
“Fuck,” he grunted, though it was nowhere near the highest setting on his volume control. Yang was just going to have to do better.
She maneuvered her tongue up and down his shaft, bobbing her head back and forth and taking him as deep as her throat would permit. She made sure to tease his head with a few circular flicks of her tongue for good measure, and those were the flicks that made all the difference. The man was cursing like a sailor in no time at all, and everyone two rooms above, below, and beside them knew it.
Yang didn’t want their fun to end too soon, so she stopped while she was ahead, wiping the slobber from her mouth on the side of her hand. The man took that same hand and pulled her to her feet, crushing his lips to hers so hard and fast it sent her stumbling backwards. He kept her backwards momentum going and led her to her bed, deepening their kiss as he laid her down.
“Get ready to scream,” he warned with that scary spark in his eye. Yang squirmed in anticipation as he kissed his way from her lips to her hips. He slid her shorts off without even unbuttoning, discarding them with a casual toss before brinigng his hands to her thighs. He massaged the top of her legs from front to back, giving her ass a good squeeze before lowering his mouth to her clit. If he could do more than smirk and sass with that mouth of his, Yang would find out soon enough.
“Uhnn,” Yang whimpered. The warmth of his breath on the warmth of her felt so good. Whoever this guy was, he knew what he was doing. He had her moaning just as loud as she had been during their earlier competition, clutching the sheets with desperate fingers as she tried to control her hips from bucking into his face. “Don’t stop,” she begged, and with a snicker that tickled to no end, he willingly obliged.
Yang had been close to climaxing before their little intermission, so it didn’t take much to pull her over the edge, and once she finally came barreling over that glorious precipice, she cried out with such uncontrollable passion and projection she could’ve rivaled any number of Whitney Houston high notes. | 16cc4f3c9aa84e00a54ca4b71d5450de | ['27aff9399dcf48dabcdbf5024044a173'] | He didn’t need to ask twice. Yang had been ready to leave pretty much since she got there. She, Emerald, and Mercury darted through the crowd of frozen people—using their stiff shoulders and heads as stepping-stones and vaults when necessary—and burst through the doors leading back inside the palace. Yang let Mercury lead the way since he seemed to know where he was going.
“We’re gonna rendezvous with the kids on the third floor,” Mercury explained as they dashed down the corridor.
“I still can’t believe you’re here… ALL of you!” Yang said.
“Yeah, well… it’s a long story,” Emerald told her. “If we live through this, I’ll be more than happy to regale you with it.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yaaaaaay!!! Mercury is back!!! ( º¬º)/\\(º¬º )
>
> But Weiss, Nora, and Blake are still frozen! And Maurice is still at large! And Jin and Mavros might be in trouble, too! And King Mynn is probably pissed. And Prince Cornell is still single... So don't miss out on the next coming chapters!
12. The Lucky One
The air around Yang was cold and damp while the sound of something dripping in the distance slowly drew her out of her slumber. She scrunched her eyes as well as her nose when she took in the rotten aroma of the dark chamber she’d awoken to. It was a smell reminiscent to her father’s dirty socks and Zwei’s fur after a long day of playing in the mud.
Yang was confused at first—having difficulty figuring out where she was or how she got there—but when she realized her hands were bound around a large wooden post behind her back, she knew wherever she was wasn’t where she wanted to be.
She struggled against her restraints, her chains rattling against the smooth wood of the post sprouting up from the filthy stone ground of the chamber. Her effort did nothing to loosen her bindings, but it did garner the attention of someone hidden in the shadows.
“Who’s there?”
“Emerald?! Is that you?” Yang called out, relieved to recognize the voice of her friend.
“Oh, gods. It’s just you, Yang.” Emerald sounded just as relieved.
“What happened? How did we end up here?” Yang asked. The room was dark and her bindings forced her to look one way, but she could still make out the slender silhouette of the expert thief beside her tied to a similar structure.
“My mind is a bit hazy, too,” Emerald admitted, “but I vaguely remember some type of purple gas emitting from the walls as we were running. I think it was sleep screen. Someone must’ve triggered a boobytrap—one made by Merc’s uncle, no doubt.”
“Ha. You said trap.”
Emerald paused long enough for Yang to envision the unamused look that must’ve been sinking into her features.
“Glad to see our dire situation hasn’t affected your sense of humor,” Emerald deadpanned.
Honestly, Yang’s puns were a knee-jerk reaction, and right now she was acting completely on instinct. That was part of being in survival mode, though there wasn’t much else she could do other than crack a joke or two. She was still wearing her skimpy red dress from the ceremony and, unless she counted the sharp heels of her stilettos, she was still void of any weaponry.
“Now that we have a chance to talk, how did you get here?” Yang asked.
Emerald took a deep breath. “I left for Mistral the same night I showed you the letter that, turns out, wasn’t written by Mercury.”
Yang furrowed her brow. “It wasn’t?”
“Nope. You probably won’t believe me when I tell you, but some kids came from the future and—“
“Mavros and Jin. The time-traveling twins,” Yang interrupted.
“Okay. So maybe you WILL believe me when I tell you,” Emerald amended. “They wrote the letter knowing I would show it to you and knowing we’d both head to Mistral the first chance we got.”
~So that’s why Mavros popped up out of nowhere with a job that just so happened to include free airfare to the east~ Yang thought to herself. “You knew about this from the beginning?” Yang asked. She almost felt betrayed.
“No! I didn’t! I was duped into thinking it was a real letter, too. Although, I should’ve known better. Mercury’s never once written to me, and even if he did, his grammar and punctuation wouldn’t have been so clean.”
“Then... was this all a trap? Would my kids really want to...”. She trailed off. Again, Yang felt betrayed, but this time the innocent faces of her supposed sons flashed through her mind.
“Why would your future children come back to the past to kill you? That’d kill them, too,” Emerald pointed out. “Think clearly, Yang. They definitely came back to save you. I’m sure there was only so much they could anticipate and plan for, though. Jin told us that every time we make a choice we change the future. If even the simplest of choices changes, so does the future.”
The time-travel talk was starting to make Yang’s head spin, and it had already been a very trying day. The last thing she needed was for her mind to warp into a merry-go-round.
“So, to sum things up, you and Mercury are here because...?”
“Because of Jin,” Emerald said plain and simple. “Jin approached me the same way Mavros approached you, I’m guessing. We then found Mercury because Jin knew exactly where he would be because the Mercury from the future told him—”
“Stop. Stop. My head is hurting.”
Emerald let out a huffy sigh. “Jin found me. We found Merc. The three of us then infiltrated some rich aristocrat’s house and stole his invitation to your wedding—Jin predicted it would happen. We snuck in as party guests and then used the dance as a distraction to save you and your teammates. Well... almost.” |
48f2b4d665124094a35f7a5fb1758cc7 | ['27c0ae6bf33a4e6bba0357efe9cf5be9'] | "If I tell you, you're going to beat up the person aren't you?"
"…"
"See! So I'm not going to tell you."
.-.-.
"You're positive she will be safe here?" Meruem gave Gon a sidelong glance.
"This island doesn't get much action," Gon said jokingly of his home island. Then seriously he said, "People important to me live here. If this place wasn't safe, I would have moved them to some other place that was."
They both looked at Mito holding Komugi's hand and leading her into the house, her grandmother at the door. Pitou was on the roof, stroking a normal cat who was purring up a storm.
"…Alright then."
.-.-.
Meruem at his full power was a sight to be hold. It was fortunate for them that he was on their side this time.
.-.-.
_To be continued and hopefully properly completed one day...?_ | 8d4cff36033646e8ae7bd93ecc828c6d | ['27c0ae6bf33a4e6bba0357efe9cf5be9'] | Through the spell he had placed on her somehow, she surmised. Which explained why he was the one who tried to get her back and not someone else, despite him being the last person she would want to see right now.
She also had to make the decision to go back to the Kou empire on her own. If she didn’t, if he forced her to come back not of her own will - it would be like he didn’t dispel the spell from her.
His actions would provide evidence that he had released the spell from her. And if she came back without him in tow and left him down there in that cavern and he really (even though she felt that such a thing was impossible) couldn’t go back without her help, then she would be troubling her empire further for abandoning him.
But would such a thing really convince her family of his decision to free her from his control?
Kougyoku closed her eyes and sighed, long and wearily. Such thoughts were distressful for her to think about, but she didn’t have much time to ponder on such things. They both had people waiting for their safe return, whose patience hung only by a thread of belief that they would both return unharmed.
She shook her head and decided to catch some fish for herself, as her growling stomach reminded her of her hunger.
.-.-.
Two days after she first awoke in his arms, Sinbad was still right there in her underwater cavern no matter how long she spent swimming outside the cavern and hoping not to find him there. The evidence that he didn’t go anywhere when she was gone came in the form of his stomach growling out of hunger, as he did try fishing using the few materials lying around the underwater cavern, but that plan didn’t seem to work out very well for him for once.
Curse her, but after hearing that continuous growling sound, she decided to catch some fish for him too, telling herself that she was only feeding him so his stomach would stop making so much noise so she can sleep in peace - this was the only underwater cavern for miles, for rukh’s sake!
In truth, she realised that no matter how deeply wounded she felt being used in such a manner by her first love, she could not find it in herself to kill him. Not only because of the small part of her that still held a vestige of her damnable feelings for him, but also because if he was not returned back to Sindria soon, this would spark a war which the world could not afford, when they have just defeated the Al-Thamen.
Even if he came here unarmed, he probably thought of that and knew that she would not kill him so easily, the goddamn bastard.
…This had been going for long enough. Three days was probably the longest period he could get his generals to agree to leave him be before tearing the ocean apart to look for him. It was also probably all the compromise her eldest brother was willing to take and give to bring her back before waging war.
But she couldn’t let that happen.
“Let’s go,” she told him. Although Sinbad was surprised by this sudden decision, he did not wish to question it and approached her.
She placed her hands against his cheeks. Something grew there and when he felt them, he discovered that they were gills.
“Hold onto me,” she told him. Being demanded to press against and hold onto a pretty, barely dressed woman would normally excite him and he would usually be more than happy to thoughtlessly oblige, but right at this moment, the crimson-haired woman was currently in full control of his life and death.
He curled his hands around her waist hesitantly, but shockingly she had no such hesitance and pulled him right against her and together, they dived through the exit.
.-.-.
The two of them had been at the bottom of the ocean, but Kougyoku had them spiralling out of the water and up into the air faster than he thought possible.
The moment they were, Sinbad felt the gills dissipate from his face. For one wild moment, he thought she was going to drop him from where they were in the air and back into the water, defenceless, in the middle of nowhere, with no islands as far as the naked eye could see, even from up here.
It didn’t help that Kougyoku was looking at him the way she was. She had never looked at him so sombrely before. Even if he might still have a place in her heart, she was never going to look at him in the purely lovestruck way she did before ever again.
The princess held his gaze and then said quietly, “Koumei-niisama.”
And then Sinbad’s panic became real as a familiar looking light encompassed them and blinded him.
.-.-.
The moment the two of them appeared in the throne room of Kou Empire’s palace, the guards tensed and were about to subdue the Sindrian king, but were blocked by their eighth imperial princess, who warned them off with a wave of Vinea.
“I would like very much to say that I brought him here so that you may kill him, nii-sama,” Kougyoku said quietly, eyes trained on her elder brother who sat on the throne. “But if you do that, you will spark a war with Sindria and the Seven Seas Alliance, and we cannot afford that right now.”
The serious look in her eyes made the eldest Ren brother reconsider asking her if that was her talking or Sinbad. He had always been aware that his youngest sister was the peaceful sort and thus he found her desire to stop another war from erupting believable; and not one manipulated by the Sindrian.
“…Then why is he here, Kougyoku?” he asked instead. |
f614dc78ee0149309ce7578096c0f74d | ['27e48a8395954c6a81f9e8353d9fe4e2'] | He grabbed her arm, hauling her out of her chair some, and twisted it to the side. “Stop the shit, newbie. Let's fight and see why they think you’re so special.”
Ida stood up. “Bakugo. You can't manhandle-” They ignored him.
Kaya’s face was blank- similar to Todorki's usual expression. She didn't move a finger to defend herself. “As much as your actions might deserve a correct defensive response from me, it's my first day and I want to stay here.” She matched his glare. “So I have to follow the rules. Any fight between us would have to be sanctioned by a teacher. And just so you know, all you had to do was ask nicely. I’d have treated you to a tough fight.” She blew in his face, ruffling his hair, ignoring his impending explosion. “Now I'm tempted to go easy on you and not show you the respect a good opponent deserves.”
There were only a handful of times Izuku had ever seen Bakugo this mad. Kaya was undaunted. “You won't get anything out of me today. Another time, perhaps.”
Bakugo dropped her wrist. “A sanctioned fight then.” He fumed away.
Kaya turned back to her food. “What a grumpy-ass cat.”
The table gaped, except for Todoroki who gave her a rare, small smile. “Kaya, I'm glad you’re here.”
“It seems like it will be a thrill.” She nodded and went to picking at her food.
**Author's Note:**
> Comments are sustenance. Id love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading! | 54f4d6fb3a9a453e97259cf53e510d42 | ['27e48a8395954c6a81f9e8353d9fe4e2'] | Incredibly fast for a human, Hide whipped out a knife that cut into the ghoul’s arm, slicing tendons and rendering the hand useless. Hide quickly bent and dipped as the other arm flew towards him. He sliced through the Achilles tendon on the leg in reach. He jumped back and the ghoul’s arm missed him by inches, somehow Hide was fast enough to whip his arm up and cut into the ghoul’s throat.
The wound probably wouldn't kill the ghoul, far more damage and blood loss would have to be done but it was a serious injury that bought the human enough time to scamper over toward a stunned Kaneki.
\---------------
Hide held down a glimmer of dark amusement as he saw Ken’s cool mask disappear into utter surprise.
“Well, are you going to help?” The question seemed to really confuse his beloved friend but after a moment Kaneki turned his attention to the ghouls. Hide just hung out, admiring his friend’s scary badassery as he tore through the guys like wet paper.
Once the bodies were in chunks on the ground, Ken turned towards him. “Hide, what do you know?”
Hide expertly whipped his knives around between his fingers before deftly slipping them into their sheaths. “Oh, I know a lot of things, Ken. Did you like my moves?”
The poor boy was so confused. “They were a surprise. Um, where did you get the quinque knives?”
Hide replied flippantly. “Oh, this? I’ve picked up a few things while at the CCG which I only joined to get more information. I've got nothing against ghouls.”
Ken deflated even further and looked like he was going to throw up. “It’s smart that you have something like that around me.”
Hide’s eyes widened. “Oh, holy hell, no! No, no, no. These are not for you.” To prove this he grabbed him in a hug. It was a good hug on his part, even though Ken remained still. “I said thank you earlier and I will say it again. Thank you for protecting me. I trust you, Ken and you haven't let me down.”
Hide looked up to check if that sunk in. “Do you believe me?”
Ken stayed silent. Hide was just going to have to poke that mood until it pops.
“So you don't trust me to be honest with you?”
"It’s not tha-” Ken mumbled.
“Then you don't trust me to properly understand the situation and make my own choices.” Ken just sighed. He knew stubborn Hide when he heard it.
“Ken. I’ve known for awhile. Since what was probably the beginning? Your date with Rize? She was a ghoul, right? Her organs were transplanted into you?” Ken just stared and shook his head in amazement.
“I joined the CCG to get more information on what happened and to help you if I could. I'm sorry- I know it seems bad, but it seemed like the only thing I could do. I also needed their resources.” He flashed a smile. “Which is why I have the knives, to take care of myself, so you don't have to worry so much.” Ken was still wide-eyed and slightly horrified. Probably beating himself up because of how he supposedly messed up Hide’s life.
Hide sighed. “Ken. I need you to know. I’m still your friend and always will be. Everything that has happened, never think that this has made us enemies or something because that will never be the case. I would do anything for you, just like I know you would do for me.”
That seemed to do the trick. Ken’s horrified eyes now were sad, a bit watery, and grateful.
Why the hell did such a kind kid get thrown into all this mess? “C’mere.” They hugged it out.
After more reassurance and explaining, Ken seemed to return to normal. Still not completely sold, but he seemed resigned. Hide accepted that. It probably needed time to sink in.
Now that the revelation was out of the way, they could talk business. “So. I've been doing some research- I'll give you all the information I have. I would say it was embarrassing how easily it was to hack into the CCG data archives, but it is me we are talking about so we’ve got to give them some credit.” Ken was paying very close attention now and was getting ready to scorn him, Hide could see it now.
“Hide, you should not have been doing this. I don't want you in trouble.” Hide tried not to look too guilty and waved the comment away but it didn't work.
Ken started to put the pieces together. “What else have you done? Why were you so good at using those knives? How were you so calm being held hostage like that?” Ken looked horrified. “Have you... fought ghouls before?”
"Only the bad ones." Ken looked horrified. Hide’s scrunched face and shrug did not put him at ease. “I wanted to be a badass, too!” was all he could get out under his friend's scrutinizing look.
Ken did his best impression of an exasperated parent, complete with a hand to face and an exaggerated sigh. “Hide, it’s not about being a badass. It’s about being safe.”
“What! Of course, it is!”
The two friends continued their argument which continued to lighten until Kaneki finally laughed. They finished their shopping together and then sat down to business. Could two friends, one human and the other half, fix all ghoul-human relations? They could try. |
8d115e9bfda84b0da6780ab0619f300e | ['27ff4f47f8d34e8b8e4c7d3415ee5c6e'] | "Oh Joaquin~" Kevin swooned behind me. He quickly trotted over to Carlos and pulled his arms around his waist tugging him out of his seat. That broke our kiss and Carlos stared wide eyed up at me. I saw a twitching erection trying to escape the confines of his jeans.
"Alright nurse we'll need to bind the patient to prevent movement." I smiled coyly to Kevin.
"No... ugh what... Joaquin!" Carlos whined as Kevin dragged him into my bedroom. We tied down my still protesting brother and I ran to snatch another one of his lab coats finding some scrubs for Kevin as well.
"Here you are darling!" I said tossing the scrubs at Kevin.
"Thank you doctor!" He beamed, pulling them on.
"Joaquin stop! I'm your brother!" Carlos yelled tears welling up in his eyes. I sauntered over to my bed and leaned over him bringing my lips close to his.
"Well your body doesn't seem to care much brother dearest~" I said as I trailed a finger along his ever growing erection. "Nurse?" I questioned.
"Yes doctor?" Kevin beamed next to me.
"Hand me my scissors." I ordered. Kevin picked up my tool from the end table and Carlos began thrashing against his binds. "The patient is reacting to stimuli in a way that's dangerous to his safety. Tighten the binds nurse." I ordered again. Kevin complied making it so Carlos could barely move. I began cutting away his clothes ignoring his protests.
"Joaquin why! I thought you loved me! I thought you respected me!" He screamed as tears streamed down his face.
"Oh... Carlos... I won't hurt you, besides look at how excited your body is don't you want relief~" I purred licking my lips and stroking a finger along his throbbing cock.
"It's wrong Joaquin! You're my brother! Plus I'm dating Cecil! Just stop!" He pleaded.
"Nurse do you have anymore of the medication?" I asked.
"Yes doctor," Kevin answered scampering off too dig in his bag.
"What medication?! Joaquin?! Did you spike my drink with something?!" Carlos panicked wide eyed.
"Hehehe, don't worry it's just a little... aphrodisiac..." I chuckled. Carlos threw up his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Kevin came back with a vile full of a redder than before liquid that had the symbol of a flame taped to it. I dipped my finger in and tasted it, then I dipped it in again and held it out to nurse Kevin. He took the tip of my finger in his mouth and swallowed on it fluttering his eyes up to look at me. "Well nurse... save a little for the patient" I chided him knowing full well the two drops we took barely made a difference in the vile. He giggled in reply. I took Carlos by the cheeks pinching his lips forcing them open and handing the vile back to Kevin then squeezed his nose closed. Kevin got the idea and pushed the opening of the vile into Carlos's mouth, I squeezed his lips around it as all the liquid poured in he was forced to swallow. He hung his head in defeat and I decided it would be good to explain our rules.
"Alright Carlos, green is go, yellow is slow down, and red is only to be said if you think you might die. If you scream red at everything I do I will be forced to punish you." I informed him with a smile. He slowly looked up at me, his eyes looked hazy and glazed and his cheeks flushed brightly.
"Yes doctor..." he whispered out with a crooked grin.
"Ohhh yes a cooperative patient! We may be able to loosen your binds if you keep this up!" Kevin exclaimed happily.
"Nooo" Carlos hazily protested. I chuckled at his change of tune.
"Don't worry brother dear, we'll give you everything you want and more," I purred in his ear, he whined and bucked his hips against the straps. I pushed off the bed and started kissing Kevin and clawing at his ass. Carlos moaned from the bed. I broke the kiss.
"Nurse fetch my scalpel." I ordered.
"Yes doctor," Kevin complied with a coy smile. The nude and shivering Carlos looked at me with eyes full of unfettered lust. I rubbed my hands across his chest and down to his abdomen which was quite impressive. Kevin handed me my scalpel and I made my first incision across his right cheek. He let out soft little moans for me.
Kevin leaned over the bed and lapped and kissed at Carlos's cheek. "Oh make him bleed more doctor! He has such beautiful blood!" Kevin breathed out. Carlos's cock dribbled with pre-cum.
"Please play with me Joaquin?" Carlos begged. I leaned close to him letting my shirt brush slightly past his cock and he whimpered.
"That's what I was doing darling." I whispered.
"More!" He demanded. I struck him hard with a backhand across his left cheek and Kevin gasped grabbing himself and moaning. Carlos whimpered.
"Color?" I asked.
"Oh god green," Carlos moaned. I slashed harshly at his chest with my scalpel and he shook with want under me.
"Good boy... if you want me to really please you you're going to have to earn it..." I warned.
"Anything! anything! ANYTHING!" Carlos screamed.
"Beg your brother dearest to let you cum." I instructed.
"Oh please dearest brother please get me off~" he whined. Kevin began viciously masturbating over Carlos.
"Why should I give a dirty whore like you anything?" I asked.
"Please I know I'm a dirty little slut I need it please touch me!" He begged.
"Nurse! Swallow him!" I ordered. Kevin scrambled to Carlos's cock and bobbed his head viscously. Carlos came quickly.
"I didn't say you could cum" I lowered my eyes at him. His eyes widened in horror as I climbed on top of him and flipped him on his belly. "Get the dental gag nurse!" I ordered. Kevin quickly strapped the gag into Carlos's mouth and began fucking his throat. I took Carlos's ass and pounded in him furiously, slashing at his back with my scalpel as I went.
Kevin came down his throat and didn't pull his cock out until Carlos swallowed around his sensitive cock. I came in his ass soon after him, grabbing and squeezing hard on his cheeks.
He moved out after that. | b11c5e8e92984d34b318d43be8c5ca74 | ['27ff4f47f8d34e8b8e4c7d3415ee5c6e'] |
Late Night
The hissing buzz of florescent lights filled the silence of the mostly empty office. Joseph sighed a few desks away from me. This sec trafficking bust has been taking its toll on everyone but Joe and I have been questioning witnesses, all the disgusting perverts buying other people's kids, the greedy traffickers themselves, and the men and women who came forward, most of them victims themselves. I snuck a glance at the clock on the wall, it was almost eleven.
"Hey Joe." I called over to him. He didn't look up. "JOE!" I got louder. He jumped and looked over. "Split a pot of coffee with me?" I asked.
"Oh... yeah, yeah I could use some coffee..." We walked over to the little kitchenette right off the office.
"So..." I said as I stuck the pot under the spout. "Anyone worryin about you at home?"
"Ha... a cat just worries about its food supply." He said.
"Hm... I don't even have a pet..." I said. "Maybe I should get a cat too. It'd be nice to have a warm body in the house."
"I wouldn't get a cat if you want comfort." Joe chuckled. "Dogs will show you real warmth." I chuckled at his joke. Joe was staring out the window. He wasn't paying attention to our conversation anymore. The coffee maker dinged and he didn't budge from in front of it. I looked out the window too.
I couldn't see anything but Joe staring at me in the reflection. His eyes were sad and tired, staring into mine. I knew I was lonely, but I never thought about Joseph. We're partners, he's the only one who knows what I've been through. I'm the only one who knows what he's been through.
I clasped his shoulder in my hand and he looked at me directly. He had a deep dark sadness in his eyes, there were no tears but his expression was defeated. I'm sure I looked no different.
I cupped his face in my other hand and pulled him close. He slowly wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my my chest. He sighed and I ran my fingers through his hair.
"I know." I pulled his face away and looked him in the eyes again. He looked hopeful and he leaned in close to me until our faces were centimeters apart. I felt something stir in my chest and I leaned away.
I cleared my throat. "Coffee's done."
We split the pot and chatted about dogs like nothing happened. I finished my paper work around two, I believe Joseph finished a while before me, he kept glancing over his shoulder at me. Right before I finished he shuffled off to the bathroom. I followed him, half a pot of coffee really fucked up my bladder.
I didn't see him in the restroom but I did my business, and as I was drying my hands I heard him take a shakey breath. The handicap stall door was locked and I walked up to it.
"Its just us Joe... come on out." I told him. He unlocked the door and kept his eyes glued to his shoes. I didn't wait a second before I pulled him to my chest and he sobbed quietly.
"Did you finish the paperwork?" I asked, he nodded. "Good...good" I closed my eyes and buried my face in his hair, it was soft and smelled like coconut. I let my face slide down so that our cheeks were touching. I felt his cold tears and the stirring in my chest started again. I hugged him tighter. I pressed my lips to his cherk and left a little kiss on his salty skin. His breathing g steadied and he looked up at me. I looked in his tear soaked eyes and it felt like my insides were lit on fire.
I kissed him. I kissed him over and over again but it wasn't enough. I slid my tongue in his mouth and he leaned against me. I ran my hands down his sides and stopped at his hips.
My body was getting hot, and I was getting hard. Joe whimper as our erections slide past each other. We pulled away from each other and I looked at him.
"Sebastian..." The way he said my name made me lose it. I shoved him up against the wall and started tearing his clothes off.
"Sebas-!" He began to say but I suffocated his words under my lips. He feverishly began pulling off his clothes. I gun holster dropped to the floor, followed by his shirt, then his undershirt. He fumbled with his belt and I yanked it free of his pants letting it clatter to the floor. I pulled his button and zipper undone.
My hand plunged into his briefs and worked his arousal. My hand got sticky with his leaking precum and I licked it clean making eye contact all the while. He couldn't take the teasing and started tugging at himself, he looked up at me with a helpless expression.
I looked at his soft plump lips, wet from kissing me. I pushed him to his knees and he knew exactly what I wanted. He opened his pretty little mouth and let his tongue slide out.
I quickly undid my pants and feverishly, shoved his tongue back in by sliding my cock into his hot wet mouth. I thrusted hard into his throat and kept a rough pace. His head knocked against the wall so a grabbed his hair and forced my cock down further. He gagged at first but then relaxed and sucked me off.
His quickly bobbing head, my thrusting hips , it wasn't long before I came. Itd been a while and my cum dripped out of his mouth down his chin.
"I swallowed all I could... there was alot." He blushed and adjusted his severely knocked out of place glasses. I was still reeling from orgasm and backed up against the stall wall before sliding to the floor.
"You swallowed plenty. I'll swallow all you'll give me." I growled licking my lips.
"Uh... I already..." He didn't need to finish his sentence. I saw the wet stains in his briefs. The white fabric wet was made sheer, showing me the colors under his clothes.
"I'll clean it up then..." before he could get a word in edge wise I licked his over sensitive cock clean as he loudly whimpered. Good thing no one was in the office. |
2cc3bf7453d84d11806175ca4bbe828c | ['28006a1605204e12b1ec2d1f8e2b04b4'] | \- I'm a bit concerned. I think he's hidding something from me but I can not tell what. Maybe it's about his brother coming back. They've been away from each other for so long and they shared such a profound bond. He says that everything is okay but...
Bard took Thorin's hand and pressed it.
\- Listen to me, I'm sure everything's okay. It's just the beginning, he doesn't know anyone so he's affraid but I'm sure when his brother'll be back it's just going to be fine.
\- I guess you're right. You know I don't want to bother you with all of this.
\- You don't !
\- Still. Let's talk about something else. I didn't have the chance to ask you but what were you doing in Thranduil's office ?
\- So now... It's not boss but Thranduil ? I see.
Thorin didn't smile anymore, his face showed how panicked he was. Bard started to laugh.
\- Hey I'm kidding ! I was there for some new disfunctional products. Whatever.
With a dull tone Thorin replied
\- You know that there's nothing between us. This man repulse me and I won't ever leave you for anyone else.
\- Hey it was a joke. I know you won't. You love too much my cooking skills for that. »
They both started to laugh and got closer to kiss. And they kept chatting like that as Bard ordered a coffee and Thorin a beer. About an hour later, Bard suggested them to go to his appartement, it wasn't far from the café and would allow them more privacy. When they arrived in the building they didn't even bother to wait to be in Bard's appartement to start kissing. They started to take their jacket off as soon as their entered the elevator. It was too much waiting and they didn't had the patience to.
Kili picked up the phone and searched his brother name in his contact list. He started to type :
« Hey Fee :-) ». He waited a few seconds before locking the phone and droping it on the sheets of the bed. Nothing happened during several minutes. Maybe he was busy and didn't have time for him. The phone lit up, and Kili rushed on it.
« Hey Kee:D ! How you doing ? ». Kili was so happy that his brother replied, he couldn't have stayed all alone for hours. Kili felt bad for thinking that his brother wouldn't take the time to reply even if he was occupied. He swiftly pressed the buttons to reply to his brother and they kept on chatting :
\- I'm fine, what about you ? Have you started to pack your stuff ?:-) I can't wait to see you !! I missed you so much, you have no idea.
\- I'm fine. Haha I know I know ;-). Are you with uncle Tho ?
\- Nah, he left for a date. Idk with who.
\- Reaaally ? Our grumpy uncle finally found someone ?!
\- Yeah and he seemed really stressed, I think it's serious.
\- I want to know who is the one !
… That means you're all alone ?
\- Don't worry, I'm fine !
\- What are you doing ?:O
\- Well, talking to you and just laying on the bed.
\- You sure you're okay ?
\- Of course I am ! Only wish... you know..
\- What ?
\- You were next to me.
The next reply from Fili took a minute. Kili thought his brother left the conversation but then he received a picture of Fili laying on a bed and smiling. Kili missed the blond face more than anything. His perfect blond hair falling on his shoulders and that small goatee beard. His eyes were so shiny and that mile made him look even more perfect. Fili simply looked like an angel. His angel.
\- I'm next to you ;-)
Kili did the same and sent him a picture of him.
\- Thanks Fee.
\- I'll be here soon. I have to go pack some stuff, see you.
\- Bye.
Kili held on tight to the phone observing every single pixel of the picture his brother sent. And he stayed there like that for few hours before his uncle came back. When Kili heard the sound of the door opening he got up, letting the phone behind him and walked downstair. Seeing the expression of happiness on his uncle face, he obviously had a good date. Kili spotted a little mark in Thorin neck.
« - Hey Kili. Did you have a good afternoon ?
\- Yeah I talked with Fili, he's fine. Packing stuff.
\- Good.
\- Huh.. uncle...
\- What ?
\- You.. Nothing.
Kili pointed him akwardly and just left and went to the kitchen leaving Thorin confused. He turned and looked into the mirror, eyes wide open, and observed a big red mark in his neck. It wasn't small and everyone could see it. Thorin realised that Bard gave him a hickey. Damn. How was he going to hide this. A part of him was a bit embarassed but somehow he was proud of this hickey and wanted to show it to Thranduil. Show him that he wasn't his property, show him that he already had someone. However, he would find a way to cover that tomorrow. Right now, all he wanted was to spend the rest of the evening with his nephew and relax.
After dinner they just sat on the couch and started to watch a movie. Kili didn't pay much attention and Thorin fell asleep really quickly. When the movie was over, Kili left Thorin on the couch and went to his room. He took off his shirt and his pants and went to the bed. There was his phone, he took it and saw that there was an unread message. It was another photo from Fili. It was a picture of him asleep in his bed with the message : « Sleeping next to my brother ». Even if Fili was under his sheets, Kili noticed that his brother wasn't wearing a shirt. Kili sliped into his bed thinking about the skin of his brother. Fili's soft skin against his. Kili was so peaceful. Nothing mattered. He quickly fell asleep thinking about his brother.
The following day was really calm, nothing happened. Fortunately no one noticed the hickey on Thorin's neck and Thranduil was nowhere to be seen which was a relief for Kili. It was a completely normal day. Kili spent most of his time daydreaming about when Fili arriving in two days.
**Author's Note:**
> It was a short intro I know ;). Please leave kudos or a comment ^^! | f583f0c7998346f386889b695e6e8cc2 | ['28006a1605204e12b1ec2d1f8e2b04b4'] | His uncle was (contrary to him) in a large and private office, his job was to call entreprises.
The other part of the morning happened quietly for Kili then he met his uncle at noon. When Kili met his uncle at his personnal office, he saw his uncle coming with a large smile on his face.
« What's happening ?
\- I got some news from your brother. You surely know it's been few months we did not see him and barely talked with him.
(Kili did not feel like telling his uncle he received a text message this morning.)
Well, he just texted me, telling he had been transfered here after a request. He comes back in town and will work with us. If I'm correct, he said it would take about 1 week and a half. He added that he missed us too much and that our manager Thranduil immediatly accepted. » Kili blinked at the last part of the sentence, _his uncle calling the blond by his first name..._
_But why the manager would have accepted so easily ? Was Thorin involved ?_
However, Kili jumped happily at his uncle neck who answered back with a hug.
It has been now several minutes since the blond started to watch the two men, he couldn't help anymore. He smirked terrifyingly then thought : « Perfect ». It was all happening as he planned and even if Killian had seen his uncle's picture on the blond office , it would change absolutly nothing. He approached his desk and grabbed the picture and hid it in a secret drawer. Everything was set up, he just needed to proceed with the young man before the arrival of his elder. He would easily pressure the two brothers and after they would tell Thorin everything, his man wouldn't have any other choice than comply at his requirements. He smiled a last time before locking his office's door, then he sat on his chair and started undo his pants.
In the end of their day Kili and Thorin turned back home together, and Thorin seized the opportunity to ask his young nephew several questions :
« So ? First impressions ?
\- Hmm... well, it was amazing, I can't believe it yet. I'm so glad to be here with you. And now, Fee's back, everything's perfect. I was really anxious this morning but everything went good.
Kili told his uncle gladly before he thought about what happened with his boss, but he did not want to worry his uncle so he didn't tell.
Thorin saw in his nephew's expression that something was wrong but he didn't want to bother his nephew, he would wait when there would be home to talk to him.
\- Well then. » Thorin smiled and listened for the last part of the travel all his nephew had to tell. None of them showed it but they were a bit tensed when the discussion subject came to their boss, they tried to avoid it as much as possible, feeling too uncomfortable about it.
As they stepped through the threshold, the phone rang into the house and Thorin rushed into the living-room to pick it up, and Kili was already going upstairs. He led into his bathroom and started to run a bath but Thorin shouted his name.
« Kili ! Screamed Thorin loudly. Your brother is on the phone and want to talk with you.
\- 'Coming ! » answered back the nephew. He went downstairs with only a towel on his hips, he took the phone of his uncle hand and came back in the bathroom.
« So ! I wanna know everything ! It was soothing and relaxing for Kili to hear his big brother voice. And as he entered the warm bath he started telling his brother everything.
What's that sound ?
\- Sorry I'm having a bath, it was the sound of water I think.
It made the blond feeling a bit nostalgic, remembering when they were just kid and they used to have long bath together.
\- So you must have met Mr. Oropherion ? Chilly huh ?
\- A bit yeah.. He scared me .. Fili laughed at Kili. Hey Fee! Stop ribbing me !
\- I'm not ! I was just imagining you two meeting and speaking to each other.
\- Well, it wasn't that funny ! »
Kili doubted for a while, wondering if he should tell his brother about the picture he glimpsed, during the meeting, on the director's office. Kili immersed his head underwater for a second then pulled it out as fast.
« - I... When I was in Thranduil's office, I... You know... I just..
\- Yes ? You did .. ?
\- I saw a picture of... uncle.
\- Well, as far as I remember he's our manager and he keeps files with picture of everyone.
\- No, no, no. That was something else. I mean, the picture was quite strange. Thorin was leaving his truck. The person who took the photo surely did not want to be seen.
\- Hm...
\- I know, it's nothing... I just wanted to tell someone but.. Don't tell uncle please.
\- Don't worry Kee. It's nothing.
I gotta go, I leave you with your bubbles. See ya in a week, alright ?
\- 'Kay.
\- Don't worry.
\- You know me Fee. » He paused, then added : « I missed you. »
There was a blank and Fili hung up. Kili kept the phone on his ear for several minutes before dropping it next to the bathtub and falling asleep in the warm bath.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I need to finish to write chapter 3. I'll try to post it this weekend.
> |
e6af4239886646ac84dbc8d8d8daf1a2 | ['2814c16b8ff1405e993ad5856c4dd2b4'] | The movie had been Hazel's idea. Well, actually, she was just the messenger but she had been the one to persuade Will and Nico to go. They were visiting Hazel in California for her birthday, and were planning on spending a most of the Summer there with her and her boyfriend. Hazel and Frank lived in a two level studio apartment so close to the coast, that Nico could smell the saltwater every time he walked out the door of the complex.
Naturally, the two were in no hurry to leave. They were on Hazel's couch, sprawled over each other, eating popcorn and watching a movie when Hazel walked in, her boyfriend in tow.
"So Will..." Hazel started out, already gaining up on Nico. "Frank and I got a text from a few friends of ours, and they're going to a movie tonight. You two are welcome to come if you'd like."
"No." Nico said at the same time that Will said, "Sure."
Nico looked at his traitor boyfriend. "Wait, you want to go?"
Will shrugged, "It'd be nice to meet new people and besides, we've stayed in this apartment for three days straight."
"Yeah, but we've been pretty occupied in those three days."
"Okay woah time out! If you two are gonna argue this out, I am not going to hear about the things you've been doing in my guest room." Hazel yelped, looking embarrassed.
Frank's ears were the shade of a tomato. Nico held up his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright. What even is the movie anyway?"
"Some classic horror flick. For a film festival I think? It's this retro drive inn in Hollywood. My friend Jason, his girlfriend Piper suggested it." Frank answered.
"No!"
"Yes!"
Will and Nico looked at each other again.
"Pleeeaaaasssseee Will. Classic flicks aren't even that scary!"
Frank cleared his throat, looking magnificently uncomfortable, "Well, uh, if it helps, it's not like you'll be stuck in a dark theater."
Will looked at Nico's face and sighed, "Damn puppy eyes." He threw his hands up in frustration, "Fine I'll go."
"Yes!!"
~
Hazel's idea of 'a few friends,' meant six other people crammed into the bed of a pick up truck, that was filled with blankets popcorn and candy. One girl, Reyna, Nico thought was her name, had given up trying to find a spot and had climbed onto the roof of the truck. She lounged in a bean bag someone had brought, in a purple hoodie and killer black boots. Nico hadn't even tried to learn everyone's name. After about the third time he heard Hazel say, "That's my brother Nico and his boyfriend Will," he'd zoned out thinking about the movie and all the popcorn he was about to eat. They took to Nico pretty nicely, although Will was the easier one to talk to.
Nico and Will were in the far corner of the truck, practically on top of each other. The others were sprawled out and one guy, Leon? No, Leo was his name, was lounging on the tailgate taking a swig of a beer that he'd smuggled in. The movie started, and Nico had to keep himself from grinning. He'd always been a horror movie fanatic and the idea that he'd get to see a classic horror film in a California drive inn, had seemed exactly like his cup of tea. Will however, did not like horror movies. In fact when they were eighteen, Nico had rented the Shining for him and Will to watch, and halfway into the movie Will had completely buried himself in Nico's side, practically shaking. He knew he probably shouldn't have asked Will to come, but he was too excited about the movie to consider that.
The first few minutes were great. Will had rested his head on Nico's shoulder, and seemed relaxed enough. Then, stupid white girl #1 decided to follow the creepy mass murderer. Blood and heads were flying on screen and the volume was so loud, Nico was sure he'd be hearing the girl's scream for a week.
"Woah!"
"Bro, that was like-"
"I know bro."
"That's not even possible, the physics are all wrong about it."
"Ughnnnn."
Nico looked down to see Will, who had shrunken down into his hoodie and had his face pressed into Nico's arm. Nico put his arms around his coward boyfriend and sighed. "You've helped with gut wrenching surgeries, and yet the fake stuff freaks you out."
Will shot Nico an icy glare.
Nico laughed lightly and rested his chin on Will's head, "Va bene, Tesoro, stai bene. Ti amo.." Nico mumbled. He usually spoke Italian when Will was distressed or he was too tired for English.
Will smiled, most of the time he had no idea what Nico was saying, but he had picked up on one thing.
"I love you too."
6. Muffled, over your shoulder.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Disclaimer: All rights of characters to Rick Riordan.
Will was pacing. He had been for the last fifteen minutes, and it was driving Hazel insane.
"Will, he's fine." Hazel said, for the eighteenth time that day.
Will nodded and looked at Hazel, "Yeah I know, I mean, I just. I'm nervous." | 4e33c4d61e094f1b8b2bfed4daac9832 | ['2814c16b8ff1405e993ad5856c4dd2b4'] | Now, Joyce, Will, El, and Jonathan were at Melvald’s picking out different things to decorate the house with. El and Will decided they were going to pick up everything in the store, and Jonathan was just trying to do whatever he could to make Joyce’s life easier.
“Mom, do you need ornaments?”
“Probably.”
“Mom! Mom! Look they have snowman cookie cutters!”
“I see that.”
“Joyce, everything is so glittery.”
“That’s Christmas, sweetie.”
Joyce eventually was able to pry El and Will away from the decorations and make it to the lights. She stared at the colorful boxes and felt a cold chill settle over her. Just three years ago she’d been in this same store, buying the same lights. She didn’t know if she’d ever see her son again, her boss had thought she’d gone crazy. Joyce was on the verge of drowning in her memories when Will tugged on her sleeve. He looked at her with wide brown eyes and a nervous smile.
“Mom, you okay?” He asked.
Joyce nodded, “I am. I’m ok. Now come on, we’ve got decorations to buy.”
Later that night, The Byers-Hopper household was a hub of activity. Apparently just a family decorating night had turned into everyone coming to the Byers-Hopper house to decorate, eat, and be merry. Hopper, Jonathan and Steve had all helped bring in the tree and set it up. The younger boys immediately starting stringing the lights up, debating amongst themselves the best way to do it and what looked best. Nancy and Eleven were hanging ornaments, and Max was in control of the music making sure everyone was able to dance and sing. Joyce was leaning against the kitchen door-frame, looking out at all the people in her house.
“Steve I swear to God; you have to do it from the bottom up. And tuck the wires! Tuck!”
“I got it! I got it! El pass the ornament hooks.”
“Hey Jonathan, where did mom put the star?”
“Max, play the Hawaii song!”
“Mike oh my God stop dropping ornaments!”
Joyce couldn’t help but grin at the gaggle of teens and college kids arguing and dancing in her living room. It was all that she wanted. It was all that she needed for Christmas. “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Hop asked from behind her.
Joyce leaned back into him and smiled, “Watching.”
“Come on, I wanna show you somethin’.” Hop told her earnestly. He tugged softly on her arm, pulling her out of the kitchen doorway. He led her through the back-door of the kitchen and onto their back porch. Lights had been hung off the porch rails, the candles on the porch table were lit, and Andy Williams was singing over the radio.
“Oh Hop, it’s beautiful.” Joyce breathed. “I love this song.”
“Me too.” He led her to the middle of the porch and held her by the waist. “I told you we’d dance.”
“You did.”
They fell into a slow rhythm, swaying to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” and passing a cigarette back a forth. It was peaceful, it was calm. The lights were perfect. They were the clear kind that twinkled in the darkness. They cast a serene glow over the porch, creating beauty and warmth. It made Joyce’s heart swell just thinking about the thought that Jim had put into all of this. “Thank you, Jim.” Joyce whispered.
“Anything for my girl.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and Joyce hummed in response. They stayed like that for a while, swaying and smoking and enjoying the closeness. But, eventually the cold set in and Jim’s teeth were chattering.
“Let’s go inside, I hope the kids haven’t wrecked the house yet.” Joyce joked.
“Ha, ha.”
Joyce headed back into the kitchen to see if the kids wanted any food, but they were all passed out in the floor or on the couch. Jonathan and Nancy had fallen asleep beside each other on the floor, Eleven and Max were sprawled on the couch, Dustin and Lucas had argued over the Lazy-boy before agreeing to share it, Steve had taken a corner beside the tree curled up like a cat, Will was leaning against the side of the lazy-boy, and Mike was asleep on the floor beside the couch Eleven’s hand entwined with his.
“So do they want any food or-“ Hopper stopped when he saw the living room. He sighed and flicked off the living room lights. “I’ll start making phone calls.” He walked back into their kitchen and grabbed their phone, ready to alert the worried parents that their kid was safe and sound and asleep.
Joyce watched as all the kids were sound asleep, bathed in the soft light of the Christmas tree. It was beautiful to her, having both her sons, her adopted daughter and all their friends happily sleeping in her living room. For once, they were all gathered without fear of immediate danger. There were no monsters or missing kids, it was just some friends, celebrating Christmas. Huh, Joyce thought, the lights aren’t so horrible after all. She looked back at Will’s sleeping face, illuminated perfectly by the tree.
Yeah, she decided, they’re not. |
488cab1587eb4b19aabe3023b0f54e54 | ['281a0c6beef7402299c139477992dd7d'] | “’m-m not gonna be able-able to last much longer.” Tweety admitted, Craig tilting his chin up to look at him.
“You want to cum for me?”
“Yes! Y-Yes!”
“What do you say?” Craig murmured, hips snapping forward harder than he’s been doing so. Tweety’s eyes widened, a yell jumping from his throat as Craig _finally_ found his prostate. He couldn’t find the one simple word he needed to say, the word lost in the puddle of what used to be his brain. The tight grip around his cock made Tweety come back to his senses, the word spewing out of him over and over.
“ _P-Please! Pretty please! P-Please, please PLEASE!”_
Craig grinned at how Tweety has completely fallen apart during the course of their time together, heat pooling into his stomach.
“’m-m close too, baby.”
“Take the condom off.”
“W-What?” Craig choked out, yelping as Tweety quickly pulled himself off his cock. Pushing Craig back so he was lying back down, Tweety tugged the condom off before lining his hips up again.
“W-Want you to cum in me.” He growled, Craig’s eyes widening as he nodded slowly. _Okay. I can certainly do that._ Tweety kept the pace up that Craig had established as he rode him, the taller man’s hand still stroking aimlessly over Tweety’s length.
“Oh-oh _fuck_. Tw-Tweety-Tweety, I’m gonna-”
“Fucking _cum_.” Tweety hissed, hips slamming down _hard_ once more.
It was what sent Craig over the edge.
Crying out, Craig tossed his head back as he came _hard_ deep inside the man on top of him, Tweety gasping at the sensation. Tweety whined loudly as the feeling of Craig _literally exploding_ inside of him sent him over his own edge, the blonde’s back arching as he came all over Craig’s chest.
The room was plummeted into silence after they rode out their orgasms, Tweek falling backwards onto the bed in between Craig’s legs. Neither moved for a good while, bodies shaking as they tried to relax themselves.
“ _Fuck_.” Craig eventually whispered, Tweek giggling quietly as he sat up slowly. Shifting slightly, he whined as he could feel the cum slowly move towards his entrance inside of him, but he didn’t mind. It felt _so good_.
“You okay?” He whispered, sitting up so gravity could do its work.
“More-more than okay.” Craig chuckled, running his hands down his face. Tweek smiled a bit as he stuck his ass in the air as he leaned forward, pressing his lips with Craig’s as they both moaned quietly. They kissed lazily like that for a while, both completely forgetting about the thousands of people watching them. They couldn’t see them kiss, but they could definitely see some of the cum running down the inside of Tweek’s thigh.
* * *
They showered after Tweek ended the stream, opting to save water and shower together. It was…sweet. Calming, even. Craig couldn’t stop smiling every time his eyes landed on Tweek. There was something so ethereal about him, so perfect. Craig couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but that’s okay.
They have plenty of time to figure it out.
“You staying the night?” He asked as they dried off in his room, Tweek shrugging.
“Sure.” He said, Craig tossing a sweatshirt his way.
“Here, you can use this to sleep in.” He said, Tweek nodding as he tugged it over his head. It went down to his knees practically, but he loved it so much. Watching Craig settle himself into bed, Tweek hummed quietly as he grinned slowly.
“Move over.” He whispered. Craig nodded, moving closer to the wall as Tweek slid into the bed next to him. It was a full sized bed, but because Craig is such a big guy, he takes up most of the bed.
“Comfy?”
“Mhm.” Tweek sighed, grabbing Craig’s wrist and draping his arm over his hips. The notion made Craig chuckle, nose nuzzling into his hair as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Tweek?”
“Hmm?”
“…Thank you…I mean it.” Craig breathed out, Tweek smiling softly into his neck.
“And why are you saying that?”
“Because I know for a fact I am one hundred percent gay.” Craig snorted, Tweek tossing his head back as he let out a laugh. The sight made Craig’s heart swell, tongue darting over his lips as he watched Tweek’s head drop back to look at him.
“Thank you.”
“Me?”
“For volunteering your dick tonight,” Craig snorted once more. “And…for always treating me like I’m not a sex object…” Tweek added on. It felt good knowing that not every single guy was like most of the men that approached Tweek. It felt good, in an odd way, that Tweek helped the man in bed with him without even knowing him. It felt good knowing that Craig was smiling because of him right now.
“You’re incredible, Tweek.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“’m not.” Craig muttered. It caught Tweek off guard, but…he believed Craig.
He wouldn’t fight him on it. Hell, he barely had the energy to talk anymore about anything.
“Craig?”
“Mm?” He hummed quietly. Tweek pushed himself upwards slightly so he could press a light kiss to Craig’s lips, but it never got deeper. It was a delicate, gentle kiss that signified something much more to Tweek. It signified that Tweek was capable of giving and receiving affection, that Tweek was capable of giving and receiving of love.
And Craig helped him realize that, just like Tweek helped Craig realize he was gay.
It was an odd, some might say fucked up, situation, but to them?
It was their own little paradise.
“We should do that more often.”
**Author's Note:**
> A little one shot inspired by some discussing in a discord I'm in!!!
> I needed to write this as soon as this idea was being talked about. It took me two days, but here it is! All 32 pages and 10,000 some words!
> Consider this a little gift for Kinktober ;)
> Hope you enjoyed and, as always, any and all feedback is welcomed!
> PS: If you haven't read my other words, I'd love you forever if you checked them out, too!! | 37cbedb41dca453cbf0e9b23fd1de8df | ['281a0c6beef7402299c139477992dd7d'] | The raven-haired man groaned quietly, rolling again so his back was to Tweek now. Tweek couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asleep still or if he was just being stubborn, so he moved closer until his chest was pressed to Craig’s back. His hand rested on his chest now, thumb running through his chest hair in an effort to gently coax him awake. It took a few minutes, a few kisses to the back of his neck, and a few squeezes of his side, but Craig eventually blinked his eyes open. He whined low in his throat, rolling onto his stomach so his face was in the pillow.
“I w’nna sleep.”
Tweek giggled quietly, moving so he was half on top of Craig.
“I know, but you have a day off! Don’t you wanna spend it together?”
Craig’s head lifted slightly at the proposition, inhaling slowly through his nose as he brought his hands up to his face. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Craig nodded slowly as he propped himself on his elbows and turned his head into Tweek’s neck.
“Yeah…yeah, I do.” He grumbled. Craning his neck a little more, Craig lightly attached his lips to Tweek’s neck, humming as he sucked lightly against the tender skin.
“C-Craig,” Tweek breathed out, yelping quietly as Craig nudged him so he fell onto his back. Craig never let his lips leave Tweek’s neck though, the blonde feeling him smile against his skin. “You’re gonna leave a hickey!”
“That’s the plan.” Craig chuckled, voice still low from sleep. It made Tweek shiver, but he knew he needed to save this all for later. Shoving Craig back, Tweek gave him a playful glare as he jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.
“Save it for later!” He laughed, looking over his shoulder in time to see Craig flop onto his back in exasperation.
“I don’t wanna save it for later, kitten!”
Tweek hummed in thought, turning the water on to fill the big bath tub. He hasn’t gotten to use it yet, so maybe a morning wake-up bubble bath with a dash of making out can be how they christen it. He hummed quietly to himself as the tub filled, rummaging through the few bottles of bubbles he picked up while he was out shopping yesterday.
“Lavender or cocoa scented bubbles?”
“What, like cocoa butter scented, or something?” Craig shouted from the bedroom, Tweek hearing the bed shift under his weight as he stood. He leaned back to peek in on Craig, watching as he stretched his arms above his head. Tweek quickly turned his attention back to the bath as he popped the cap on the cocoa scented bubbles, face tinted pink as he bit his lip to stop his giggling.
“Yes exactly! It’ll be moisturizing, too, so let’s use that one.”
Craig hummed as he wandered into the bathroom, staring at Tweek for a moment as he watched the blonde mix the bubbles into the tub with his hand. To do that, Tweek had to lean over a little bit, which gave Craig the perfect opportunity to smack his ass as he walked past. The sound and feeling of Craig’s hand on him made Tweek yelp, glaring at Craig as he continued to walk past over to the toilet.
“Am I allowed to join you in this bath?” Craig asked, Tweek staring at his boss as he heard him _piss_.
“I dunno. You think it’s okay to just _piss_ while I’m in the room?” Tweek asked, baffled. It wasn’t gross to Tweek, he just couldn’t believe Craig felt that _comfortable_ with him to pee while he was in the room. Craig gave a shrug of his shoulder, sniffling a bit as he looked over to watch Tweek get into the tub.
“Need I remind you I was _inside of you_ last night.” He teased, flushing the toilet before walking over and climbing into the tub with Tweek.
“Do you… _not_ wash your hands after peeing?”
Craig blinked, staring at Tweek.
“I got in the tub I’m sitting in water.”
“Now your piss is in here.”
“Wh-that’s not how that works!” Craig snickered, Tweek grinning slowly as he shifted over to put a knee on either side of Craig’s thighs.
“I know,” He murmured, leaning their foreheads together. “I just like teasing you.” Craig hummed quietly as he ran his hands up Tweek’s thighs, rounding behind and gripping at his ass.
“I just like touching you.” He admitted, eyes closing as Tweek ran his fingers over his jaw again.
“I can tell. You’re awfully keen on running your hands _everywhere_.” Tweek giggled, lips ducking down to kiss at Craig’s jaw and throat lightly. As time passed, Tweek didn’t mind that the gentle kisses didn’t turn into anything other than that. In fact, Tweek decided to take the gentleness and calmness of the situation to just… _talk_.
“Do you take baths often?”
Craig hummed in his throat as Tweek nuzzled his face into his neck, eyes closing as he reveled in the sensation of feeling another man pressed against him.
“At times. When I’m really stressed and just…everything in my body hurts…what about you?”
“Bebe and I don’t have a bathtub. But when I’m home I try to take them every now and then. They just…I find them relaxing.”
“Why is that?” Craig asked, hand coming up to play with Tweek’s hair.
“Well…I have a lot of anxieties. But they don’t feel as intense and overwhelming when I’m in water, if that makes sense. The sensation of being surrounded, almost hugged, by water makes me feel so calm. It’s always why I liked swimming, I think.” Tweek explained. Craig nodded along as he spoke, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought.
“I used to…take a lot of baths when I was in rehab.” |
4552a3ccd336436cb28379e739795101 | ['283fb3cfa4ef423f98e34d93422c7772'] |
Two of Swords
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Fafhrd raced down the earthen tunnel, waving his torch wildly behind him, thrusting at the sentient shadows that licked down from the ceiling. He finally reached the treasure chamber, and his eyes had only a moment to register what he saw there before he turned to face the pursuing shadows again. A wizened old woman? No... a half-starved girl, no older than nine or ten, wrapped in a meager robe.
"Stay behind me!" he yelled over his shoulder. " 'Ware the shadows!" He stabbed again with torch and sword. Both flame and steel had the power to disrupt the murk for a few breaths.
"I am the guardian of this fane," the girl said in a small, steady voice. Fafhrd whirled to face her again: "The hell you say!" The girl stood as tall as she could, and indeed, she seemed to have more than the usual dignity about her, but Fafhrd still found her claim absurd. "Some desperate rogue may have set you to watching this place, but that doesn't mean you don't need guarding yourself." Then he yelped as a shadow lashed his shoulder, and turned again to battle.
Blackness surged around him with a hundred questing arms that sought his every weakness. As he fought on, he strained his ears for any sound of the Gray Mouser's approach. His companion was always a swift and silent fighter -- save when he chose to favor his opponent with a quip or a jest. But this damn bloodthirsty mist was surely no fit audience for wit.
Again, and once again, the shadows snaked through his guard. Fafhrd bellowed in rage. Behind him, the waif commenced chanting, whether in prayer or spell, he could not discern. But he thought he did hear a faint scuff of boot leather in the corridor he'd come from, and began to anticipate his friend's arrival with some relief. The blackness pressed closer.
Suddenly the girl moved to stand before him. She quelled his unuttered warning with a glance; and now he saw why he thought her a crone at first look, for there was something infinitely old and weary in her eyes. She raised her arms high and the shadows shifted. They began to swirl like water-spouts around her outstretched arms. Her eyes did not leave his, and he obeyed her wordless command for stillness. Just then, the Mouser rounded the corner and pulled up short, clearly perplexed at the tableau before him.
The shadows descended further, seeping into the girl and staining her skin. The Mouser began to move, but Fafhrd checked him. Some deep magic was at work here, and Fafhrd's instinct urged him to trust the girl.
She gave a great shout, and the shadows poured into her. Her body twisted in pain. Fafhrd's chivalry warred with his caution, but before he could he could lift a hand to help her, the girl glared at him again. He could only watch as she consumed the blackness, her will and her body strained to their utmost. When the last blot was absorbed, she breathed a shuddering breath. Her face sagged into the sad ghost of a smile, and she collapsed.
The spell broken, both men fell to their knees at her side. They were too intimately familiar with death: they knew before setting a hand on her that her soul had fled. Fafhrd was a man of strong emotions; he let the sudden flood of his grief pour out in one of the death songs of his tribe -- songs now known only to him. The Mouser knelt in respect for a time, then moved to the back of the chamber.
His dirge completed, Fafhrd turned and found his partner ransacking the altar. "Leave it!" he roared. "The blasted idols will serve as the child's grave goods."
"If we leave them anywhere the villagers can find them," the Mouser reasoned, "they'll only put them back here and train another whelp to take her place."
Fafhrd had no argument against this. It seemed perverse to honor her noble, inexplicable sacrifice by desecrating the temple she had guarded, yet in the end they did so. Hoping to make up for the affront, Fafhrd built her a truly magnificent cairn. Nevertheless, his heart remained uneasy.
***
The Gray Mouser felt that Fafhrd was being entirely unreasonable. Not that this was an uncommon occurrence in their friendship: the tall barbarian was of a most romantical disposition, prone to sudden moods of gravest sorrow or noblest rapture, which he never hesitated to inflict on those around him. The Mouser had many tricks up his sleeve for negotiating these moods ("drinking it off" being a reliable favorite), but this time, nothing was working.
The ill-fated raid on the temple had unhinged Fafhrd. What weighed him down now was not his usual sorrow, full of maudlin (though not unskillful) poetry and garnished with some manly weeping. No, this was a dull and bitter lassitude. The Mouser had poured buckets of wine down Fafhrd's gullet in the past fortnight -- Fafhrd not objecting in the slightest -- yet it had produced no tension-relieving tavern brawl, no flirtation with a distracting courtesan.
Last night had been another failed bender. Despite his pounding head, the Mouser could no longer put off rising from his tangled sheets. After the morning necessities, he slumped back on his pallet, a cup of bitter tea warming his hands. Fafhrd was practicing his forms, as he did every morning. In deference to the damp drafts of Lankhmar's half-hearted winter, he was even wearing clothes. His sword whirled as he paced back and forth across their latest temporary lodging -- the garret above the Brass Prawn. | 5e2112840f4a490fba8a32281ba3c2c3 | ['283fb3cfa4ef423f98e34d93422c7772'] | Amy had known of Laurie's plan even before he told Jo. When she returned home from paying calls to find Jo run off and her parents looking grim, Amy could guess exactly what had happened. Although Amy had always cared more for society's opinion than Jo had, she also understood intimately the lure of travel, art, and freedom, and she wished that her parents had agreed to Laurie's plan. "After all," she thought, "anyone who would fall in love with Jo in the first place would already be unconventional enough to not be bothered by some travel paid for by a family friend who happened to be a young gentleman." That is, if the trip itself didn't end up steering Jo into Laurie's arms, which Amy sincerely hoped it would. It was not her place to make these decisions, and so she did not argue with her mother and father, but they could see perfectly well that she was saddened by the turn of events.
While Jo was still absent, Amy had run next door to see how Laurie was bearing up under this latest disappointment. She saw him staring out the library window as she approached, his face utterly bereft of any hope or happiness. She threw her arms around him as soon as she reached him. "Courage," she whispered, "This is only a setback."
"No, it's the end," Laurie said dully. "There's nothing else I can offer her."
"You can offer her your friendship, dear, as you always have."
"And what does that mean?" he asked as he broke away from Amy's grasp. "Do you imagine we'll still go ice-skating on Saturday mornings and have silly little picnics by the river? We're not children anymore, Amy. Our lives diverge here. Responsibilities, duties, the expectations of society -- everything pulls us apart from each other now. She and I can choose to knit our lives together forever, or we can let them drift where fate commands them. And I don't like where Jo's is drifting to, and I can't imagine mine without her," he said miserably. The bitterness and ennui he had shown in France seemed to Amy but a schoolboy imitation of romantic grief, compared to the pain she saw now in the man before her.
"Have you told her this, since we returned?"
"No, and I never shall. She made her feelings very clear last time, and I won't put her through that again."
On this point Laurie was adamant. Amy spent the rest of the evening and into the night wondering if there were anything she could do to bring things to a happier conclusion.
In the end she decided that honesty was and always would be the best policy. Laurie's secrets weren't hers to share, but there had been something burdening her own heart for some time now, and confessing it now to Jo might be of benefit to everyone.
The rest of the household was long asleep by the time that Amy crept by candlelight to Jo's door. Even Jo had slept fitfully for a time, much to her own surprise, though she was awake again, staring into the night, by the time that Amy came and scratched for admittance at her door.
"Don't bother trying to cheer me up," Jo warned. "It won't work."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. I've come to add to your troubles, instead." Amy set down her candle, took one of the blankets, and made a little nest for herself at the foot of Jo's bed.
"Ha!" Jo snorted. "You've piqued my curiousity, at least. And I _do_ want to find out what's been troubling you ever since your return, but I warn you, I can't promise you pity, not unless your troubles are a great deal worse than mine. I declare, I used to have a heart once, but recent events have reduced it to a burnt-up husk of a thing, and I believe I shall be a very unpleasant person for the rest of my life."
It was always Jo's way to try to hide her hurts with anger and bravado, and Amy found the familiar tactic somehow cheering. "I want to tell you about the letter from Fred," she said. "It wasn't anything to do with his proposal or my refusal. It was all about Frank. He told me how sorry he was for Beth's passing, and then he told me what Frank's most recent illness and brush with death had been like for him. He said that I might be feeling some of the same things, and wondering if I was alone, and he didn't want me to be alone. Or, he said, if I didn't feel the same way, he still wanted me to know. He wanted to get it off his chest, finally, to someone." Here Amy trailed off, but she looked up and saw Jo's eyes, intent and expectant, and she gathered up the courage to continue. "He said he was angry. He said he loved Frank desperately, like half his own soul, but he was angry. Angry that Frank's frailties always earned more attention than Fred's accomplishments. Angry that every time he was enjoying himself at something that Frank would never be able to do, the pleasure was always tainted with guilt. Feeling angry for feeling guilty, feeling guilty for feeling angry -- oh, such a mess of emotions that are not nice at all! And I don't know which is more dreadful: the fact that I knew exactly how he felt for much of it, or the fact that it was a confession like this that first made me think I might be able to love him, when all his virtues couldn't accomplish that!" |
a11779c5cbbb4eef88ef9a7bbb343303 | ['287beb2fa76e4ad9aaf6d368a83ce2ce'] |
1. Pepper Potts
She did not want to see this. To see New York. To see Tony in danger. Yet again. The urgent report was playing though and she could not draw her eyes away from it.
“No.” She mouthed seeing Tony with a fucking nuke. Of all the stupid things, she supposed to be proud of him being the hero... but she wasn’t. Call her selfish but she would rather see Tony fly as fast as he could away from it all, see him safe. She valued Tony over New York and if that was not selfish then she did not know what was.
She only heard her phone when it was too late. Tony. By the time she picked it up he had gone through the hole and it had closed.
He did not come out. Nothing did. Not more aliens, nor any nuclear blast. Not Iron Man but most importantly not Tony Stark.
“No.” He had tried to call her and she had missed it. She never got to hear the last words he meant for her.
“Tony...”
* * *
"Tony..."
An empty coffin was lowered into the ground. AC-DC blared out as that was the way Tony liked to make his entrances and so he would his last exit. Everyone wore sunglasses as she just felt that was a detail that Tony would appreciate, even if in part just to hide her tears. Tony had never coped well with crying especially not hers or his own.
“To Tony!” She declared raising a glass of whiskey, she did not like the stuff but Tony had. Everyone else rose a glass with her. She could have easily broken down there and then, but she didn’t, she had help holding herself steady. A strong hand on each shoulder and one that trembled just as much as hers holding onto her like it was a life-line.
Captain America and Happy Hogan flanked each side whilst James Rhodes just gripped onto her hand as desperately as she gripped onto his. Tony had left a lot of people behind, more than he possibly even thought when he had to go and sacrifice himself. The words ‘sacrifice’ and ‘hero’ felt bitter on her tongue.
Even if Tony had made his suit fit for space even it could not withstand a nuclear blast, just in case though she had pleaded Thor to ask that all-seeing man he spoke for just to check for him. It was not logical and she did not dare allow herself to dream he would show up sunglasses and all and tell her that, yes, he loved her. To tell her what he wanted to say on that missed phone call as he flew up to his death. To say that the reports of his death was greatly exaggerated with a shit-eating grin on his face as if he hadn't decided to take a suicide mission.
Thor agreed solemnly to her request, his hands dwarfed hers as he clasped them telling her that he was sorry for the chaos that his brother had wrought. Said brother had a muzzle on and chains beside him. The muzzle was for Loki’s own safety. The moment Bruce had seen that man’s _smirk_ after what they and the world, _she,_ had lost he had practically Hulked out very willing to give the self-proclaimed ‘God’ some permanent damage. Heck, if she saw a smirk she was pretty sure she could have given the Hulk a run for his money on _destroying_ Loki.
Loki was not the only one she felt like destroying, Loki had not been the one to call on the Nuke after all. Stark Industries was not going to let SHIELD or their little council anywhere near any of their products, old or new. They had killed Tony just as much as Loki had a role in doing so, and they were going to suffer for it. They did not even have Phil to soften the blow as Loki had killed him too. Loki and SHIELD were both going to feel the wrath of one Virginia 'Pepper' Potts.
SHIELD hadn’t sent a representative to the funeral; Natasha was there but not as representative. The whole Avengers team was there, including Thor who had returned briefly for it after securing Loki in a cell where he could not hurt anyone else. Or get hurt by the Avengers for taking one of their own. Pepper was grateful for them showing up.
“For Tony!” The Avengers’ voices carried the furthest and she blinked back heavy tears and held back the sobs that threatened to wrack her body. She would cry later, but she had finally found him... the elusive Bruce Banner. Bruce was struggling but he still came and that meant a lot. He had braved his fear of turning big, green and ugly just to show his respects for Tony.
She had to be in business mode for this bit, Bruce Banner was a tricky little shit on keep pinned down but he had showed up here. This was her best chance to catch him, if she succumbed to her misery who knows when she would next see him.
“Dr. Banner.” She greeted, his throat bobbed and he bent his head towards her in greeting not trusting himself to speak. His hands had a slight green tint to them; she cleared her throat lightly causing him to look up at her. She took those lightly green hands in her own without fear. Banner’s breath caught and he tried to remove his hands from hers, she didn’t let him and held firm.
“We have an opening for someone of your talents at Stark Industries.” The man practically choked at her words. | f2e9ee434b5241a2a585a22a661a9387 | ['287beb2fa76e4ad9aaf6d368a83ce2ce'] | “Ryeowook, he’s telling the truth. It’s what you asked for.” Siwon muttered gazing at Ryeowook pleading for him to listen, to believe. Siwon did not know if he could handle the fallout. Ryeowook pulled a face, so Siwon too was crazy... made sense. Were they all just twisted in the head alongside Eunhyuk and Hae? Was it a cult thing, and to think he had let Siwon and Kyuhyun both into his house!
“Even if I was to believe you, wouldn’t that make you the bad guy?” Kyuhyun looked pained as if each word was instead a physical hit. Siwon just didn’t know how to stop this, Ryeowook wasn’t willing to listen.
“Ryeowook, I love you. Against all loves I love you, I didn’t even realise I had a heart before you. I did all of this so you could live, fate said you had to die but I changed that. I changed it for you! Please believe me!” Kyuhyun’s voice had broken and he was crying now yet Ryeowook was just looking at him as if he had a contagious disease.
Ryeowook shook his head and backed away slowly making his way to the exit.
"I love you..." Kyuhyun pleaded, he was shaking now. The heat of those words.... Kyuhyun was kissing him as if his life depended on it. He was so desperate and needy as he poured his very heart into every touch and word he muttered in short breaths into Ryeowook's ear.
Ryeowook was shaken, he just did not know how to handle the brunt of the extent of Kyuhyun's love - there just seemed to be so much of it. Too much of it. It was smothering him.
And did he want a delusional person’s love. He couldn’t handle this. So he pushed him away, he must have pushed him harder than he thought as Kyuhyun landed on the floor.
“Ryeowook! Please!” Kyuhyun practically screamed after him in a gut-wrenching sound that had Siwon’s heart shattering with Kyuhyun. Siwon didn’t know what he was supposed to do, if Kyuhyun couldn’t get through to Ryeowook then how was he supposed to have any chance?
“Leave me alone!” Kyuhyun gave a strangled sob and just sat there on the ground watching as Ryeowook ran out and listened as the sound of the car pulling out.
“Ryeowook.” Kyuhyun murmured softly before bringing a hand to his cheeks, they were wet. He never knew monsters such as what he was could cry. “I love you.” He never knew he could hurt so much, be capable of holding his much pain without dying, it was as if someone had a hold of his heart and decided to just squeeze. What this heartbreak? If so he pitied those with hearts and almost wished he had never found his.
“What’s the date?” He asked shaking, he did not know whether he could stand.
“June the 2nd.” Siwon answered, his own voice was a little choked and his throat felt too tight. If demons could grieve like that...
“Shit.” Kyuhyun murmured wiping any stray tears away. |
550a4a087d194952a3a299c44b173b7e | ['288b8f7a21754bf182e8fb290e94c4e7'] | She looks at him resigned. As the glow of the tv reflects off her face he can still picture her as a teenager. Tonight doesn’t seem so different than those nights they would overcook the pasta, watch a bad horror movie and avoid their homework without adult supervision. Except now they kill people together.
His eyes move over her frame. They catch on her collarbone, more pronounced than before. It makes him think how fragile she can be, how she might wither away before his eyes.
“What have I done?” He says it softly, more to himself than to her. But he can see her eyes harden at the question. She wiggles away from him, dropping her fork with a clatter and moving into their kitchen for a fresh beer.
He gets up too, follows her. “This has to stop. I’ve said ok when I shouldn’t have. I’ve given in when you said this was what you wanted. But I can’t keep doing that.”
Deb scowls at him but doesn’t respond.
“We’re not doing this anymore. Tonight was the last one.”
Deb seems unimpressed. She cocks an eyebrow at him. “Remember the last time you said no? Remember when you tried to go out and do it without me? How well did that work out for you?” She smirks at him.
He can remember clearly how she stormed in on him. Screamed at him and punched him and cried until he couldn’t take another second of her fury and pain. He had told her he would never do it again. He had only wanted to comfort her; afraid he might lose her for such a betrayal. But he hadn’t imagined that this would still be going on, so many months later. If he had known then, might he have risked losing her just to avoid this?
“Can’t you see what you’re becoming?” He asks her desperately. He wants to scare her. He wants to force her to rethink all of it.
“Yeah…” Deb’s eyes burn into him. “A fucking hero. Just like you, Dexter.” He watches her put down her beer and walk out the door. He knows better than to follow.
* * *
She wants to feel sorry for him. She wants to feel some sort of pity, because she can see his pain. She can recognize the signs. But to feel anything like that for him would be to absolve him of blame. And she can’t do that.
After all this was his doing, his creation.
Sometimes she thinks he may just be a victim himself. It’s hard to imagine Dexter that way. But if she tries hard she can see the little boy, drenched in blood, alone and frightened. And she does understand that one trauma, one mindfuck of an event can change you so fundamentally that you lose control of the situation.
So maybe she should blame Harry. And she does. Oh how she blames him for every moment of her childhood when she felt alone and abandoned. And she’s angry at him for what he turned her brother towards. And absolutely enraged at the fact that what he did to both of them has impacted every decision since then. Fuck. If he was hear now what would he say? Would he bother to fucking apologize for the shitty turn their lives have taken?
Yet despite all the anger she feels towards her dead father, it’s Dexter she hates the most. Because she actually counted on him. She actually believed he would do no wrong. That he would take care of her. She had never believed that about her father, so every disappointment from him was expected. But Dexter was supposed to be different. Dexter was supposed to be better.
* * *
How do they go back? He wants to ask her this. He wants to shake her and scream at her and do whatever it takes to make her see. He wants to turn back the hands of time until their lives were what was intended. Until she is the person she was 18 months ago. No, further back. Back five years, maybe six. Before Rita, before Lundy, before Brian. When she was innocent to all the darkness that he wallows in. When she saw no gray. When her world was a stark black and white. There was only right and wrong. There was no in between, no cracks for her to fall through and get lost in.
But then he doesn’t know how he could live with her so close, yet so far. He doesn’t want to lose what he has now. He is greedy for her affection, which is cold and hard and hurts with every beat of his heart. He wants it both ways. He wants that bubbly, happy person. The one who looked at him wide eyed, and trusting. But he still wants this unknown creature which lurks in the shadows with him.
This dichotomy is impossible.
* * *
Dexter sits in his dark car and stares over the moonlit street before him. Full moon in the sky and the voice is clear. His dark passenger whispers and hisses. Blood and knives, red and shiny silver. The images are there, printed on the back of his eyelids. But it’s muted, distant. The sound doesn’t ring and reverberate in his ears as it should.
There’s a different need mixed in. One that moves deeper. Its roots are wrapped around his insides and they throb with his pulse. This one fights with the other. It’s not quite new, but it’s unfamiliar nonetheless. And it is all very distracting. | 968fe6f9f0f24df89644bd76d38d2c9f | ['288b8f7a21754bf182e8fb290e94c4e7'] | When he doesn’t budge, she reaches for the handle of her door, forces him back as she opens it. She closes her car door, sits back against it as she considers him. “Let’s go.”
Dexter shakes his head, gives her a pleading look. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.” Deb walks away, towards his car. She opens the trunk, pulls on some latex gloves from her pocket, finds his M99 in his black bag. She hands it to Dex. “Are we doing this here or somewhere else?”
Dex takes the needle out of her hand, presses his fingers into her latex covered palm. “Deb…”
“I’m running out of fucking patience here.”
Dexter glances around; glad that nightfall is upon them. The parking lot is deserted, people avoid being outside alone this time of night, in this neighborhood. It will work to their advantage. He takes another long look at the woman standing next to him. He doesn’t know who she is anymore and it frightens him.
“I’ll take care of him.” Dex lifts the syringe into view. “Then we’ll setup the plastic in his apartment.”
“I can knock him out.” Deb argues.
“No. I’ll take care of it.” Dexter growls at her. Deb shrugs in agreement, watches him take the stairs up to the apartment.
The night goes smoothly. Dexter remembers how much easier it is to setup a kill room with a partner. Dexter wakes Danny up this time and Deb observes the interaction, understands better who this dark passenger is. She watches the first cut, as Dex separates Danny’s leg below the knee. But it’s too much for the time being and she waits outside in the car for him to finish.
Out on the boat Deb doesn’t touch the bags, but she leans over the side as he dumps them, watches them float into the darkness. He sits down next to her, wants to ask her if she’s ok, but he knows she’s not. They head home in silence.
She pulls him through his door, back into his bedroom. She shoves him down onto the mattress, then gets onto the bed with him, curls into and around him. He can feel the warm drops of her tears as they wet his shirt. Her limbs tangle with his. It reminds him of the way a strangler fig latches onto its host tree, feeds off of it until it dies. Dexter wonders which one of them is the parasite.
* * *
Dexter isn’t surprised when Deb picks their next target herself, vets him and announces she’s already setup the kill room. He presses the pads of his thumbs over his eyelids, fights the oncoming headache unsuccessfully. He vows he won’t let her watch this time.
Of course, Deb won’t hear of it.
The room is perfect; Dexter tries not to be impressed. But as Deb pointed out herself once, she’s been on the table, she knows it well. This latest victim is trussed up in a foreclosed house, just a few blocks from Deb’s place.
“You should go.” Dex stands in front of her, wipes his gloves across the blade of his knife.
“Fuck off.” Deb curses.
“I’m serious. This isn’t good for you. It’s bad enough I’m bringing you along for any of this.” Dexter looks at her worriedly.
“I’m just fine, fuck you very much.” Deb scowls at him. “If you think I’m leaving you to do this alone after all the fucking effort I’ve put in then you’ve got another thing coming.”
Dexter places the knife down on the table, looks at her as she paces back and forth in the room. The plastic rustles slightly with each step. “What exactly do you think this is? A project? A job?”
Deb stops, turns to him. “Why the fuck not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“So what? You’re telling me you left a prominent position at Miami Metro to sneak around playing serial killer.”
“It’s the best I could do.” Deb croaks.
Dexter furrows his brow at her, not following the train of thought.
“I can’t fucking be Lieutenant of Homicide when I’m protecting a serial killer and killing my captain!” Deb gesticulates violently in his direction.
Dexter shakes his head, moves towards her. “Deb, one has nothing to do with the other.”
“Ha!” Deb throws her hands up. “You’re fucking insane! Do you even hear yourself?”
“Do you!?”
“At least I’m realistic about what I am. About what I’ve done. You walk around here like some kind of fucking hero. You act like everyone should be fucking thanking you!” Deb madly chuckles.
“I’m cleaning up the mess.” Dexter reasons.
“You’re killing people because you enjoy it.” Deb snarls, points her finger at him and leans forward. “Don’t get on your fucking high horse about what this really is.”
“It still serves a purpose.” Dexter tries to explain.
“Which is why I’m here. It’s the only fucking reason I’m here.”
Dexter tilts his head at her questioningly.
“It’s the only type of good I’m capable of anymore.” Deb’s face collapses, her mouth turning down, eyebrows bunching. “The only good I can do is helping you kill people.” She whispers, nearly horrified.
Dexter closes the space between them, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his chin against her shoulder. “It’s not true. You’re better than this.” His voice is soft as it glides past her ear.
“I don’t remember how to be.” Deb pulls back, moves towards the table and the man lying atop it. Her gloved fingers slide over the blade, mimicking Dexter’s earlier movement. “Do it.” The coldness has settled back onto her, the momentary lapse of shame and guilt buried underneath it. |
40fb7051fc3042bd8c27b7e8f28119a1 | ['288d946e554646599ae115e84bbe802f'] |
But I have you to keep me warm
**Author's Note:**
> This started as a multi-chapter fic, but I gave up after it went nowhere. This is one of my favourite scenes, so i had to post it anyway
Edmonton winters kill him. It’s the northern most city in the NHL and it’s so cold it makes him want to curl up in his bed and never leave. Seriously, they don’t even get the Chinook winds like Calgary. But he’s an Edmontonian now, and he’s learned that these people are resilient. They learn to deal with the unfair hand that weather has dealt them. Life goes on even when it’s 28C below zero. It’s still technically fall, but so far the sky as dumped a shitload of snow on them. Like, it’s not even real snowflakes; it’s the fluffy kind that comes down gracelessly. It’s pretty horrible. And right now his mood is matching the weather.
Like, who plans to move to Edmonton? “Oh, hey, let’s move to the coldest city on Earth, where only three months of the year there isn’t snow on the ground!” He thinks bitterly.
The real snowfall of the year comes in late November. It’s evening, and Nuge is watching TV, thinking about whether or not Joel would be finished practice, wishing he was there, when he gets his wish. There’s a frantic knocking at his door. He’s not expecting anyone, so he looks through the peephole to see him. He whips the door open and smiles. Joel has red cheeks, the tip of his ears are blood red and his shoulders are hunched up, still unable to warm up, but he’s smiling widely.
“Dress up, we’re going out!” he says excitedly.
“But it’s snowing outside” Nuge complains half-heartedly. He’ll never be able to say no to Joel, but he doesn’t want him to know that.
“Ex-Zachary! C’mon, before it stops snowing!”
*
Turns out, Joel is a freak who loves snow. Seriously, he’s like a kid again when it comes to the stuff. Nuge guesses that, after being exposed to the cold for so long, something inside them snaps and Edmontonians get crazy enough to actually like the weather. From the house to Joel’s car, Nuge already had three snow balls hurled his way. He hastily dodged them, remembering far too well how cold, wet snow felt dripping down his torso when Hallsy thought it would be funny to give frost bite to the rookie. It sucked.
They get in his car, head down Wayne Gretzky Dr. and pull off right before they hit Rexall Place, into a residential area. Joel parks the car and they both get out.
“What exactly are we doing?” Nuge asks, not sure where he is or why. Joel had spent the entire ride grinning like a 6-year-old.
Joel opens his trunk, where he pulls out two sleds.
“We’re going sledding” he declares.
And, okay. Nuge hasn’t done this since he was about 11. Climbing up the hill, sweating and panting, was too much work for about 10 seconds of speed, so he’s not too excited.
*
For going up and down a hill for two hours, Nuge had a lot of fun. Even when they did wipe out because apparently Nuge can’t steer properly and he ran into Joel, and they violently tumbled down the rest of the hill, laughing all the way down, the fall cushioned by the snow. Nuge isn’t entirely sure how, but he had landed on top of Joel, and as he looked down at him, both of them breathless, Nuge was trying to ignore the freaking boner he was getting, sharing similar grins, he decided it was. Worth it, that is. Even though he lost feeling in his fingers an hour ago.
“Hi there.” Nuge smiles down on him.
“Remind me to never let you drive” Joel teases, so naturally Nuge tries to cover his face with snow, which leads to another wrestling match.
This time Joel is on top, pinning Nuge’s hands above his head. His dark hair is falling in his eyes, and he’s looking at Nuge like he wants to devour him. He looks around, it’s dark, and they’re surrounded by trees, so he leans down and pulls Nuge into a deep kiss. He warms up real quick after that.
“C’mon, let’s get outta here before your cute little butt gets frost bite.” Joel says as he helps a giggling Nuge up.
Joel makes him feel like the kid he never was. Free from responsibility, the weight of a city’s pride riding on his shoulders. He makes him feel like the teenager he is. Happy, giddy, special, things he had only felt about his first love, hockey.
It was pretty late, and normally Nuge would be in bed for morning skate, but spending time with Joel has been steadily climbing on his priority list.
*
Afterwards, they cranked up the heater as far as it would go, and drove west. They stopped at a Tim Horton’s for coffee, and then kept driving until the pavement turned into a dirt road. They drove out of Edmonton for about 10 minutes, passing no one.
“You’re not secretly a Flames fan, and planning on killing me out here, are you?”Nuge asks, a grin on his face.
Joel throws his head back, laughing.
“Every teenage girl in Edmonton will want my head on a stake, I’m more afraid of them. You’re practically Justin Bieber around here y’know. You have the same hair as him, too.”
“He has the same hair as me.” Nuge says as Joel parks on the side of the road. They both get out.
Outside they’re surrounded by large coniferous trees, dusted with snow. There are fields and fields of untouched snow, the air is so chilling he could physically feel the cold air in his lungs, and there’s a stillness and silence you can only get when all the animals are sleeping for the winter. They walk to the front of the car.
“Look” Joel whispered, pointing at the dark sky, leaning on the hood of his car.
Nuge looked up, and his breath caught in his throat. The Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights, shone brightly, contrasting with the dark sky. It was majestic, they way it rippled and waved like flowing water. He’s never seen the Northern Lights before, and this, he was not expecting. The colour, a shade of green he’d never seen before, the sheer mass, the movement, everything, was magical. And outside the city lights, he could also see millions of stars. That’s when Nuge, a hot cup of Timmy’s in his hands, real snowflakes dancing around his head, Joel pressing close to him, so close there was a line of warmth between them from their legs to their shoulders, is when Nuge decided he loved Edmonton winters.
“I’ve always loved the first snow fall of the season. My mother once told me that these nights were so special, magical, that anything you wish for will come true.” Joel says, still admiring the sky. “So make it count.”
Nuge looks at Joel. They’re so close Nuge can see the reflection of the moon in his deep brown eyes, and he wishes for him. He wishes all his days are full of Joel and happiness. When Joel returns his gaze, the look in his eyes tell Nuge he wished for exactly the same thing.
Joel places a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, and although the rest of him has been freezing all night, the place where Joel kissed him feels hot, tingling, and for a second he closes his eyes, because right now the feeling is more spectacular than the view. | 5619461e79b3486190bace8b9016f418 | ['288d946e554646599ae115e84bbe802f'] |
Learning to Fall
Nuge ends up at a bar with a few of the guys after a big win against the Blackhawks that night. He’s kinda tired, but Jonesy is his ride home, so he agrees to go out with them. He has a lot to celebrate anyway. He went into a two-on-one against the duo Seabrook and Keith, and came out with a goal, so he’s feeling a little awesome tonight. Gags swears the bar is cool, there’s a live band and everything, and Nuge is having a good time with the guys, so he has to agree.
They mostly stay to their tables, but as the night progresses, some guys scatter, trying to pick up, so he’s at a considerably less crowded table with just Smid, Jonesy and Pecks. They’re in some serious conversation about who-knows-what. So he lets his eyes wonder to the band playing. They’re great to watch, and even better to listen to. He’s had about four beers, and feels mellow enough to get on the dance floor. But then again, that’s never a good sight. So he stays put and continues watching, head nodding to the beat.
Then Nuge zeros in on the lead guitarist, whose passion outshines that of his band mates. He treats the guitar as an extension of his body, he acts like being on stage is where he was meant to be, everything coming out naturally.
Frankly, it’s hot.
Sometime later Nuge finds himself sitting alone in the back of a bar. Jonesy mentioned something about pranking Hallsy while he was in the washroom, and, ew, Nuge doesn’t want to know, but is told to hold down the fort until they return. The band has stopped playing, and he’s getting bored. So he wanders to the bar to order another beer.
The bartender is busy, so he stands awkwardly at the side, trying to ignore the girls sneaking glances at him and smiling invitingly. Sometimes he hates being the face of the Oilers.
A brunette starts walking in his direction, with a big smile, and oh god oh god Nuge kinda wants to run in the other direction. He’s not good with girls, or people in general, and Nuge hates coming off as an asshole when he avoids them. It’s not their fault he doesn’t find them attractive.
“Hi there”
The guitarist from earlier cuts the brunette off, and has a huge smile across his face. Nuge loves being the face of the Oilers.
And, ok, whoa? That smile? Plus the guy’s still sweating from his performance earlier, so Nuge can’t be expected to answer coherently yet.
“Uh, yeah?” Smooth. Stun him with your smarts.
“Let me buy you a drink” He waves at the bartender, and he drops everything and comes over immediately.
“Hey Scott, what can I get ya?”
“The usual, plus one”
The bartender places two beers in front of them, and Nuge is still trying to figure out what’s going on.
“I should be buying you a drink, you were pretty great up there” He tries
He laughs “No, no, it’s my pleasure. So are you here alone?”
“No, some of the guys are here…Somewhere.” He looks around, but doesn’t see any of them.
When he looks back at him, he’s smiling widely looking down at him, and Nuge forgets about the guys. Wow, this guy is tall. Like, Dubnyk tall. He’s also got deep brown eyes, almost burgandy. He’s really built, with big, tanned arms and broad shoulders, his flannel shirt hugging him perfectly. And Nuge can’t get over his smile. It’s gorgeous, and all he wants to do is kiss it.
“So what’s your name, loner” He asks as he brings the bottle to his lips. Nuge stares as his lips wrap around the bottle, how his lips suck gently, hollowing out his cheeks, all while keeping his eyes on Nuge. Nuge swallows.
“You want to know my name?” Nuge asks, confused. He thought this guy recognized him as the #1 draft pick , and that’s why he bought him a drink.
“No, I know your name, I just want to make sure you know you name.” he winks
“Ryan. Nugent-Hopkins.”
The guy’s eye’s get big and he pauses, his beer half way to his lips. He looks at Nuge closely.
“Huh, you would think I would’ve recognized one of the league’s best players.” He says, shaking his head.“But then again it’s hard to notice you unless you’re scoring goals and just being generally awesome. Tell me, how are the Flames fans treating you?”
“It’s always nice to have the stadium filled, even if it’s with low-IQ Flames fans.” Nuge laughs, surprised at his own boldness.
“Spoken like a true Oiler. You’re going to fit right in, kid.” He laughs, clinking their drinks together.
“I’m Scott, by the way. Scott Daines.”
*
They sit there for awhile, just talking and laughing. It’s nice, Nuge thinks. He hasn’t felt this relaxed around anyone before, and it’s amazing how conversation flows so easily. Their knees brush more times than what would be considered coincidence, and the way Scott keeps touching his arm when he laughs is more than enough for Nuge to want the night to last longer, but Jonesy comes from nowhere, slapping his back.
“Nugget! We’ve been looking for you, we’re getting ready to get out of here.” He says as his eyes wonder to Scott, who looks more than a little disappointed.
“I’m actually doing you a favor. Nuge here is as boring as a rock. Needs a haircut too.” Jonesy laughs, ruffling Nuge’s hair and walks away, obviously drunk.
“I don’t know him” Nuge says, looking back at Scott.
“Well he’s obviously not lucky enough to see the side of you that’s entertained me all night, if he thinks that.” He winks at Nuge, smiling.
“And I like your hair.” He says, bringing his hand up to brush Nuge’s hair out of his eyes.
“How about I give you my number?” Nuge blurts, scared of what he would do if Scott kept looking at him like that. “Just so we could, uh- talk again.”
Scott smiles. “My thoughts exactly.”
* |
0312f2119c3348619a7c75db21a64a4b | ['28b2d77e064643aaad5c323eb33228db'] | Losers
**Author's Note:**
> Really dumb ficlet written at 3am.
> Why can I never write anything long? Who knows. It is a mystery.
Your name is Tavros Nitram and you are a loser.
Other kids take the piss out of your speech impediment and your shyness and your love of Disney movies. You sit alone at lunch.
That is, you and Gamzee sit alone at lunch.
You're a funny pair. Thrown together by chance, the six foot tall dork with prosthetic legs and a vast collection of Pokemon cards, and the short little malnourished former-stoner with purple hair and a smile to light up a room.
He thinks the world of you, and you've no idea why. He's got this idea into his head that you're nice. You're not nice. You've just never had the opportunity to be nasty.
His head hangs upside down from your bed and you sit on the floor, contemplating life and the possibility of nose piercings.
Then suddenly, it hits you.
"Gamzee, we're fucking losers. Look at us man, it's sad."
He blinks and rolls over, gravity taking hold of his fluffy hair and he shrugs.
"I dunno motherfucker, never been nothin' 'cept a loser so I wouldn't know anything otherwise, y'know? Besides, I think you're pretty cool Tavbro, bein' all confident and shit."
Confident. You scoff. Yeah right, you've never been confident in your life. Gamzee probably has permanent damage from all the weird shit he took last year.
"I mean," he continues, lying back down, "you helped me get over my problems and you weren't never mean to me or nothing, and you stood up for me when other people wouldn't. And for that I think you're motherfucking cool Tav…" he nods sagely to himself, like he's mentally proof-reading the statement he just made. Sometimes you worry about that boy.
He's right though. You're both losers, but if not for you, he'd probably be a dead loser, found in some alley with a needle in his arm and the shit beat out of him.
He pats you on the head with a skeletal hand, and you grin.
He might be one of the reasons nobody sits with you at lunch, but you'd take being a loser with Gamzee over being without the dumb clown any day of the week. | ae4c1e7159d44c6aa04ad84ac857b27d | ['28b2d77e064643aaad5c323eb33228db'] | John, to your surprise and glee, doesn't seem phased in the least.
"Can I have an espresso, and a house special for the seadweller please." He says in halting Alternian and all you can do is blink.
A human speaking Alternian is almost unheard of, and it's wonderful.
"They's got themselves a deal, Egbro and Tavbabe, John teaches us English, and we motherfucking teach him Alternian." Gamzee explains in a stage whisper.
You nod dumbly.
The two of you sit at a table next to the counter and talk in an odd mix of your two native languages.
His accent is terrible, but then again, so is yours. You're surprised at first, that his anatomy allows him to pronounce some of the more complicated words, but he seems able.
Gamzee brings out two cups, the smaller of which he places in front of John.
The cup he gives you is full to the brim of something that smells delicious.
"And a motherfucking miraculous house special for the seadwellin' motherfucker." He grins and John tells you,
"Try it."
So you do.
It's a mixture of human coffee and an Alternian hot drink you haven't had in sweeps. What's surprising is how good it tastes.
You're staring, smiling, at the cup with foam on your top lip.
John's grin brightens.
"S'good isn't it?" He wipes the foam from your still grinning mouth with a pink thumb.
You blush like an imbecile. You've only known the man a day and already you're falling for him.
Eridan the pailslut, Eridan the hopeless romantic, Eridan the idiot.
You scowl at your lap. Does he know? Has your reputation preceded you? Has Tavros been spreading rumours? Has Gamzee?
"I'm sorry," says John, "didnt mean to make you uncomfortable."
You're more than slightly taken aback.
You just nod and take another gulp of your interplanetary concoction, unsure of what to say.
The time passes in silence, and soon, you're the only people left in the cafe.
"John? I'm uh, I mean, we're gonna head home. You know how to lock up, right?"
Tavros calls over Gamzee's laughter and his own whispers of "shut up, shhh, oh fuck that sounded pale eww!"
They stumble giggling out the door.
You smile.
"So they're matesprits?" You ask.
John grins back.
"Not really, they're kind of, everything to eachother. They're more like a human couple really, it's both strange and adorable."
You scoff. Trust Gamzee and Tavros to fuck up something as simple as quadrants.
"So where are you headed?" He asks.
"I'vve got an apartment. Up by that neww statue that looks like-"
"A fried egg? I know it."
He drapes your coat over your shoulders and takes the fedora.
"That yours?"
"It used to be."
And for the second time you head off into the freezing night with John Egbert. |
687c86a4b99e44788db07060e7b7dc6e | ['28b90fdcbedb42de9024558a1b77d311'] | Amon settled himself in front of the Avatar and held her arms down by her sides. She tilted her face to the side, away from him. Did she think he was going to be lenient with her? That there would be no repercussions for her misbehaviour? And now look where her attitude had gotten her, trapped within the earth, with injuries to add. Their journey had just begun and already, _already_ it had been impeded by her thoughtless, irrational actions. _Foolish, foolish girl._ At this rate, their return to the human world was going to take more than just six months. His grip tightened on her arms.
She was so pathetic, always thinking ahead of herself and only _for_ herself. She didn't ever stop to think and consider how her actions would affect the positions of others. Even back at the village, she was eager to accept whatever was offered just because they were finally aware of her identity. Entitlements and lavish treatments were all part of the _great_ Avatar's daily life. To take and never give was her philosophy. She was built upon it, shaped by it, she lived and breathed every moment with the innate sense that nothing else mattered except her. If it did not involve her, she didn't care what happened to anyone else, just like her previous incarnation- _who never interfered with his life, or of his dear little brother's._
He was tempted to teach her some kind of lesson, to put her in her place. Though, it would be pointless to do so right now. There were other pressing concerns for now. Terror was rolling off of her in waves, and her face was still turned away from him, her limp hair shielding her cheek. _What a sad excuse of an Avatar._ But he had to admit, he had presumed she would put up a fight again, hence the need for blocking her chi points. She was also being awfully quiet, especially in contrast to her brash and violent outbursts earlier…No matter; he would garner a reaction from her soon.
He leaned in, looking down at her.
"Are you proud of your actions, Avatar?"
He felt her pulse quicken, but otherwise she said nothing. She most likely _was_ feeling quite proud, and so he probed on.
"You must be glad to have finally gotten your way, is that correct?"
No response.
"Tell me, do you feel honored to be who you are?"
He could hear the steady trickle of water slide down the rocky wall, the sound of the small flames crackling and the light wind billowing above them. But was only met with more silence from her.
"What's the matter, Avatar? Something got that snarky tongue of yours?"
_Drip, drip, drip._
Amon let go of her arms and leaned back, somewhat frustrated. He had expected her to throw a burst of fire at him again, bend the earth beneath him, done something, anything, to prove her Avatar status. She seemed to be deliberately not responding towards him at the moment. _Give it a day, and she'll be normal again._ Strange how he surmised her current state as not being normal. This was, after all, not how she usually behaved in a situation. Her tactless and unruly nature made this all the more...How to put it, bizarre?
Why should he care, anyway? He couldn't see at her expression; her face was almost hidden in the shadows, away from the fire's light. His gaze flickered down to her leg, and then her ankle.
While she had not sustained severe injuries, her wounds were still serious enough to be requiring quick medical attention. He was once again, against his better judgement, surprised at her. She had not cried out in agony, or made a fuss about the extent of her injuries. She was definitely in a lot of pain, he could feel it, could smell the sharp, metallic scent of blood, but the fact that she refused to show even a hint of it… Her scream echoed through his mind again.
" _Keep still,"_ he murmured as he carefully wrapped one hand just above her ankle and the other around her foot.
He heard her sharp intake of breath. The feeling had returned in her arms, and she crossed an arm over to hold onto the wall, her fingernails scratching into the rough exterior of the rock.
His palms pressed into her flesh, feeling the direction of the blood flow in every vein and vessel, and where it pooled at her ankle, assessing how much damage there was, and if there were any bones harmed. His psychic blood-bending sealed the cut on her leg as he held her foot in both hands, ready to set it back in place. One, two, three-
_Crack_.
She let out yelp, and looked down at her now-fixed ankle. She gingerly moved her foot about, though still continued to avoid looking at him.
Whatever he had just done was in full regards to their travels. The faster her injuries healed, the quicker their journey would come to an end. He watched her idle movements, the decreasing swelling of her ankle, the dried, congealed blood on her leg, her brown tinted skin. She was merely but flesh and blood. And it confounded him. He got up and turned away, suddenly feeling uneasy.
She was still unable to properly walk of course, much less climb out of the trench. Her stuff-he would have to bring it down here. She would have to stay a couple of days down here, unless he-no, he wouldn't try to carry her out of this trench himself, it wouldn't be easy anyway-she would be uncomfortable about it, not that it mattered, but right now, in this state, he had to act accordingly. Get her stuff down here and then leave, yes. But keep an eye on her too, in case anything happens, happens to her- | 669cacfc8d394cf6b22a5f26de695e08 | ['28b90fdcbedb42de9024558a1b77d311'] | Several loops of vines tightened around at every log on each side, and their mode of transportation was complete.
Korra stood back with her arms crossed, feeling somewhat proud with a sense of satisfaction.
"Well, let's get going," she said as she began to push the raft.
Amon knelt down to help push the heavy contraption of wood into the river.
-:-
Korra idly swirled her hand in the water below as she rested on her side, looking out across the river. Evergreen trees lined both sides of the rivers, with the mountains right behind. The air was sweet, tinged with the scent of honeysuckle and camellias. It was a pleasant smell, and only further helped her relax against the slow drifting raft. She would water bend to go faster, though there was a risk that the raft would capsize from the uneven movement. It would have worked if there was another water bender to propel the raft from one side.
She turned onto her back, shielding her face from the sunlight streaming through the clouds. They had been out on the river for some time by now, and Korra deduced it was only a little while longer until they reached the village, where they would hopefully find an inn or hotel to stay in for a couple of nights.
Her tummy grumbled, and she realised just how hungry she was at the moment. Their food supply had finished yesterday, and they had only been able to find a couple of berries for breakfast earlier in the morning.
Peering into the river, she observed the still water as the sunlight reflected against it. There was a ripple of movement, _finally, real food!_ And with a graceful arc of her hand, she water bended two fishes out of the river. Once the fishes were skewered onto twigs, she lit them on fire, and waited while they cooked, with the smoke rising in small puffs.
She noticed Amon watching her from the corner of her eye, though his back was turned away from her.
"Oh, do you want one?" she asked, holding out a fish.
He gave a shrug, and took the skewered fish, before turning around again.
She took a bite out of the succulent meat once the fish was cooked. Maybe it was the serene atmosphere of the place, or the overall natural environment free of any man-made structures, but Korra had almost come to terms with her situation. Fighting her way out was pointless and only made matters worse, the prime example been the night when she fell into the trench. She still shuddered to think about that memory, and kept it as far away as possible from her thoughts.
And Amon, well, she wasn't quite sure about him at the moment…He still made her feel uneasy, yes, but- not in the same manner as before. That constant sense of fear-and she didn't like admitting to it even now- would always be there. After all, how could she just forget who he was, and most importantly, what he was capable of? No matter what they had gone through, the existence of her identity still hung from a fine thread, ready to snap at any moment.
She looked across the vast body of ocean, the sun glinting against the shimmering water. It was only now that she noticed just how beautiful the view was, so different from what she was used to-her homeland been nothing but wide expanses of frozen tundras. But this- it felt warm and welcoming and real. If only her parents and Katara were here to see this, along with Tenzin, the air bender kids, Naga…
"It's a beautiful view out here," the words came out just above a whisper.
Amon turned to her, as though waiting for her to continue. She admitted it to herself that she liked it when he simply listened to her. No snide remarks or making fun of her- he just let her talk.
"Growing up in the South Pole where there's nothing but snow and ice, this place feels much kinder in comparison," she said with small laugh, and took another bite out of her fish.
"It's not that I don't like my homeland, In fact, I love it-but I like this place too, and that's kind of weird, considering what we've gone through so far," her voice wavered towards the end. She-they really had endured many kinds of extremes.
"If Naga was here, she would leap with joy at the sight of open fields like this," she smiled at the memory of her giant, furry best friend.
There was a slight tilt to his head at the mention of Naga.
"Naga is my best friend, and my polarbear dog," she said, twirling her hand in the water. "She would love it here. Actually, so would everyone else-my parents, Katara, Tenzin and his family…" she trailed off, throwing the twig into the river.
"They're the only people I've known in my life, apart from the White Lotus members- they were strict, and treated me differently than everyone else," Korra hugged her knees, watching the sunlight cast long shadows across the mountains.
"But, despite that…I miss everyone-a lot, and sometimes, I kind of wish they were here."
A thought occurred to her- up until now, she knew nothing about Amon beyond his status as the revolution's leader. And here she was, spilling out her life to someone she knew very little about.
"Amon."
"Yes, Avatar?"
"I know this is going to sound really out of place, and sort of random but- how old are you?"
He _was_ taken aback by the question, and it seemed this was not what he was expecting her to ask. His knuckles brushed against the chin of his mask, like he was thinking of how respond. She was getting better at reading his small expressions and gestures. That was a good thing. |
fce4492309c24e66ac2c25ae1223283c | ['28c1ebaa1ad649d1b0dd897c6ffecad9'] | Art Gangs and College Drop Outs
**Author's Note:**
> This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I think its time this finally sees the light. I have a whole story planned out for this so hopefully I'll stick with it to the end
Pete Wentz considered himself the typical 24 year old failure. At first glance you might even mistake him for one. He wasn’t exactly white and that was enough for people to assume he was nothing. Nearly 10 years ago he had started a tantrum over the bullshit racism. Which leads to reason two on why you might think he was a bit disappointing. He was, by society’s standards, pretty damn unkept. His wardrobe was mostly dirty, torn, and black clothes he bought when he was 16. Not to mention the messily drawn and vaguely infected tattoos that splattered his body, marking a misspent youth. You may ask how that is enough to certify someone as a visible failure; its not. Pete didn’t consider the art that lived on his skin, or his own skin for that matter, to be any sort of reason to be considered a disappointment. No, he saw himself a failure in ways that you couldn't see. But if you crawled inside Mr. Wentz’s brain for a few days, got a good look around, and managed to escape unscathed you might begin to. In his opinion, he failed when the ambulance had to rush to a pissed stained, sex tainted ally. He failed when he couldn't seem to die. He failed at living and he failed at dying. But the most important thing to remember about Pete is that no matter how he sees himself, he is not a failure.
~
Patrick Stump was walking. He didn’t normally walk, usually he would already be at the diner, his shiny bike tided to the pole outside. But today Patrick was walking. He had lost his “bike privileges” yesterday when for the umpteenth time he had slept through his shift. The irony that his only mode of transportation had been taken away in an attempt to get him to go somewhere wasn't lost on him. In fairness to his parents, there wasn't much they could take away from him at this point.
Anyway he was walking and attempting to enjoy the cold, sharp smell of Chicago suburbia when he managed to trip over his own feet. He slammed into the concrete sidewalk, felt his glasses break underneath, and saw something warm and red dripping onto the ground. If he hadn't been stunned by his spectacular fall he would of gotten sick at the sight of his blood. He had always been squeamish about that sort of thing.
“Fuck, man, that was amazing. Are you okay?” A sympathetic witness, prepare for the humiliation, Patrick thought bitingly. He turned slowly to look at the man that was inevitably going to fuss over him and bring him back to the doctor in disgrace when he realized he couldn't open his right eye. It was sealed shut by a sticky liquid that he didn't want to acknowledge.
“Jesus christ that is a lot of blood. I’m going to need to bring you back to my place to properly clean you off.” Patrick was aware that going to a stranger’s house that he couldn't even see due to his obliterated glasses and scabby eye was not the best idea. But Patrick was the kind of boy that was addicted to tiny dangers. He had got into heavy metal after his bumbling country loving father had demonized it. He was 12 at the time and didn't even like it until much later but the elating rush that breaking the rules gave him was indescribable. He’d skip a class that he knew his parents valued. He just spent so much time locked away in his parent’s suburban dream that the chance to escape was always appealing.
Regardless of the reason, Patrick let the handsome man guide him to his apartment a block away. The walk was silent and there was a thick tension that neither of them dared to break. Instead they walked to the same location with different missions. Patrick was leering out at the sidewalk, exhilarated by the older man’s kindness and flushed with relief that he would have a valid reason to get out of work. Pete had the way to his home memorized in his body. He didn't need to think about the direction so instead he let his mind dance over Patrick.
He looked young, 19 at the oldest. He was shorter than Pete which was a remarkable accomplishment and instantly add to his Cool Points. He was wearing a silly camouflage hat that hid his peach like hair. He was a cute and Pete could tell he was well on the road to becoming handsome. He opened the door to his apartment still transfixed on the boy and completely failed to notice The Black Parade’s calling card sprayed on his moldy walls. Patrick, on the other hand, did not miss the giant paper sculpture of a corpse-like being crucified.
“What the ever loving fuck?” Patrick asks, hoping that the loss of his glasses and the blood drying over his eye was somehow responsible for the bizarre image in front of him.
“God dammit,” Pete said, “I’ll clean you up but then we’ve got a meeting to attend.” Patrick just stared at the wall and was too busy wishing he had his bike to fully understand the absurdity of the situation. | cae726cc207247e283928362a06397ed | ['28c1ebaa1ad649d1b0dd897c6ffecad9'] | “Yes I do.” Even though its shitty, Patrick is relieved because its not like he has the same kind of money as Tattoo Artist Punk Legend Douche Bag Extraordinaire Wentz. He orders a black coffee and fails to stifle a laugh when Pete purchases something more syrup then beverage. He couldn’t help it. Pete has the audacity to be covered in black ink, piercings, leather, and awkward transphobia but he can't even handle real coffee. He sips his drink is silence but is actually aware of Pete’s lazy gaze sweeping over him.
“So Pete..” Patrick is fishing for words that aren’t there. He knows that the older man seems to think they have an amazing connection and that somehow everything is fate and their friendship is destined to last an entirety but he isn't buying that bullshit. He knows what Pete is and he wanted no part in it.
“Yeah, Patty?”
“Thank you for the coffee and everything but I really should get back to work, “ he says. Pete looks confused, like he can’t think of why Patrick wouldn't want to hang out with him.
“Oh okay, sure.” Pete pauses a moment before adding: “I’m having a party on Friday. It’s going to be terrible, please come?” Patrick really doesn't want to but he knows that if he doesn't at least appear for a moment, Frank will never let him live it down.
“Uh sure”
Pete scrawls the address on Patrick’s cup, still half full of coffee. He touches the still wet ink and watches it smear a little on his fingers.
“Please come. I want to see your pretty mouth again.”
Pete says this with such flirty superiority that Patrick jerks up and just walks away. Not bothering to look back. If he had, he would of seen his acquaintance on the verge of tears. Not sure what he did wrong.
~
Patrick’s ears were ringing and he too was almost in tears, but for a very different reason. He couldn't believe that a basic stranger had the audacity to pretend to hit on him. He would of been flattered, he would of even given Pete his number, but he saw him slip a metal band off his finger when he entered the shop. He knew he was married.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Bonus points if you can guess who his husband is! The story is going to start picking up after this chapter. remember to comment and whatnot because reading your comments is my passion. Thanks for reading!
3. Him and Her and Everything In Between
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Patrick caves, Pete gets some money, and Gabe wears neon.
“It’s not that simple, asshole.” Patrick was laying across the floor and trying painfully hard not to think about how fucked up everything was.
“Sure it is. Hot older man wants to do some sexy times because his wife is boring and bedridden with chronic suck or something like that, hot young musical man comes along and has some mind-blowing sex with him before ditching him and let him deal with the repercussions. Bada bing, bada boom.” Patrick rolls his eyes. This about the 10th time he’s had this conversation with Frank over the past two days. It was his fault really; he kept bringing it up and Frank was usually too stoned to get off the couch, let alone give advice.
Now that Patrick had some time to look back on it, his time with Pete had been pretty great. He’d been so offended and frankly, shocked, that the older man had been hitting on him that he hadn't let himself enjoy being around him. His kindness had flustered Patrick so much that he had just assumed it was all a joke or a ploy to get into his pants. And sure, Pete had said some stuff that had offended him but it wasn't like he had the thickest skin. No one as hot as Pete had hit on him since… ever. And the ring could of meant nothing, maybe thats why he took it off. So that Patrick wouldn't get the wrong idea. He was just being a baby.
“I’m gonna go,” he announces to Frank. He tries not to think of how Pete’s tattoos wrap around his arms and peek out from under his shirt. That’s not why he’s going. He can’t let it be.
“Fuckin’ finally. When is it? Am I invited too? Cause if I’m not I’m going anyway.” Patrick resists rolling his eyes, Frank is the most social introvert he has ever met. “Wait a fuck, didn't you throw the mug away?”
“I might of taken a picture…” he admits, trying not to feel like he’s confessing to something more. He only looks at Frank’s smirk for a moment before going over to sort through the local band’s section.
~
The moment Patrick walks through the door, he feels too sober. The house is smoggy and smells like a combination of sharp alcohol and sweet sweat. He stands in the entryway while Frank darts ahead, recognizing a face in the crowd.
The room that seems to have the majority of the people in it is large and entirely under decorated. A single ugly coach covered in greasy, yet undeniably attractive, bodies is the only furniture that he can see. Patrick feels a tug at his stomach as he realizes he doesn't know anyone and that he is so ugly and dorky in comparison. He wishes he was wearing a hat or at least a jacket, something to hide in.
Coming here was a mistake. I’m a mistake. I need to get out of here before everyone finds out how pathetic I am. He’s panicking and can’t get enough air into his lungs. |
3464f76739684b018e55c9c6c7f03de1 | ['28d186c5771d41539933da909f58db0b'] | Once answering with a request for the club panini, Sasuke didn't miss a beat in turning his attention to the trio that was giving him their mostly undivided attention, "So Itachi decided he was going to reheat his quesadilla he got from a restaraunt the night before, right?"
Itachi rolled his eyes as he shook out two frozen sandwiches from their respective boxes, tossing the emptied one onto the counter with the mind to toss it into the recycling later.
"First of all, he doesn't even take it out of the styrofoam box -"
Deidara snickered.
"Then, he doesn't even pay attention to whatever the fuck he's doing because he's ass-deep in a Twitter fight with Shisui - who was literally across the hall in his room playing _Smash_."
Wow, way to make him out to be a total moron, Sasuke.
"He sets the timer to twenty goddamn minutes instead of _two_ -"
"Sasuke, do not think for one moment that I won't starve you if you don't watch your mouth," Itachi hummed even as he popped a club panini into the toaster oven, cranking the knob.
He didn't even look back at him, "Whatever. Anyways, he walks off to go spank his monkey or something, I don't even know- _fuck_!"
In one swift movement, Itachi had grabbed the empty Stouffer's box and hurled it at the back of Sasuke's spiky head. "You know very well that I stepped out for a phone call."
"Actually, I _don't_ know that, because when it was happening you said that you were outside playing with the neighbor's Lab."
Anther round of giggles.
Heat flared in his cheeks. Both because he had been caught in a lie, and because he indeed _had_ been masturbating - in the garage, where he had peace and quiet - and now everyone in the room was clued in on it. Itachi bit his lip and worked on preparing the second sandwich in a subdued silence.
Sasuke laughed, "Yeah, that's what I _thought_ , jerk," he chucked the box onto the counter and turned back to the laughing three at the table, "The styrofoam melts, the food literally catches on fire, and the fire department has to come put out, like, half of the kitchen."
"Holy shit, where was everyone else?"
Oh, please, someone just whip out a gun and end Itachi's misery. "Kisame, how long have you been sitting there?"
Kisame had one arm draped over the couch, the other folded over the back of the furniture to pillow his head, and was practically vibrating off of the cushions with suppressed laughter. He unceremoniously waved his dangling hand at nothing in particular, "Babe, I've been here the whole time," a bubbling laugh forced its way past his lips, "So where were the others?"
"As Sasuke said, Shisui was in his room," Itachi explained, trying his best to hide just how mortified he was at the sudden turn of events, "He enjoys using air fresheners, though, so he hardly noticed the smell. I believe Obito and Madara were out with Baru for some sponsorship meeting, and Sasuke was in the pool."
Kisame nodded and gestured at Sasuke to continue.
He didn't need much encouragement.
"So the fire department and an ambulance arrive with the freakin' _police_ , and we have to stay out of the house for, like, a _week_ because Itachi basically turned the duplex into a gas chamber of carcinogens."
Konan shook her head and buried her face in her hands, "Oh my god."
"Right?" Sasuke finally began to laugh with tem, "Hey, how many months of pay were you fined, anyways?"
Itachi pulled the first panini out of the toaster oven and replaced it with the other, "Two months for damages, one for hotel expenses, and half of another as an inconvenience fee."
Deidara hissed, "Ouch..."
"Man, Madara was pissed," Sasuke agreed, "But at least it was better than when you turned the microwave into a bomb."
Konan deadpanned, pulling away from her palms to stare at Itachi. Deidara and Sasori exchanged incredulous expressions, and Kisame promptly began to look uneasy as he watched his boyfriend crumple up the cellophane packets and toss them into the trash.
"Is anyone else suddenly really fuckin' nervous with Itachi being in the kitchen?" he asked half-jokingly.
"I promise that he is intentionally choosing his words to incriminate me," Itachi folded his arms over his chest defensively with a frown, giving Sasori a pointed stare as he continued to record the recollection of his kitchen adventures on his phone, "I can assure you that I can be trusted with most household appliances."
"Most," Sasori echoed.
"I don't even know how it happened, because there was so much damage that the fire department couldn't figure out the cause of the explosion -"
Deidara laughed, "You're kidding! It _exploded_?!"
Sasuke smirked, "He put an entire champagne bottle in the microwave and the door blew right off."
All eyes turned to Itachi, who was less than pleased with the position he found himself in.
"Babe... _Why_?" Kisame looked horrified.
He frowned, "Shisui and I were already drunk, and we wanted to try hot champagne," a pause, "It made sense at the time."
"I don't think I've seen him make anything other than frozen pancakes," Sasuke snickered, "I once watched him go through literally three dozen eggs in one afternoon trying to learn how to make them sunnyside up."
"For _you_ , might I add," Itachi said with only a mildly supercilious undercurrent to his tone, "As soon as I got it right, you only say how it could be improved." When the teenager shrugged, he added, "On the note of our _shortcomings_ , let's not forget what happened when Shisui and I taught you how to drive."
Sasuke blanched. | 9583337cff82426f9505f6c45e9d66b0 | ['28d186c5771d41539933da909f58db0b'] | "Great! In that case, here, go ahead and fill out this form and I'll put you in so the doctor knows you're here." The nurse passed a clipboard over the counter, a colorfun pen attached to it by a fuzzy piece of yarn.
They claimed a couple of seats in the corner of the waiting room, and sat down. Prompto didn't miss how Gladiolus shot warning glances at anyone who made the mistake of getting caught staring, but he just focused on filling out the form. It was pretty standard, just asking for his insurance information and any notable medical changes since his last visit, just to keep their records up to date. Once it was filled out, Gladiolus took it to the counter for him, the sound of his uniform rubbing together almost too loud in the oppressively silent waiting room. There was a small flatscreen showing the news on the wall, but it was silent.
Neatly trimmed fingers clacking along a keyboard.
A sniff.
A magazine page being turned over.
Prompto fidgeted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. It was one of those generic wood-frame chairs with cheap leather seats, just enough to not be as uncomfortable as hard plastic would but clearly not meant to be sat in for more than a few minutes. He slouched with his knees spread, but it made a crick start to form in his neck so he tried sitting up with one knee crossed over the other. That made his hips ache, so he shifted his leg so just his ankle rested over his knee, but that put his folded knee at an awkward angle so he put it back down on the floor. He folded his arms over his chest, like Gladiolus. Unfolded them. Leaned one elbow on the arm rest. Jiggled his knee. Sat up straight. Looked up to watch the TV. Went back to staring at the floor.
Rustling clothing as a woman shifted in her seat.
Gladiolus's steady breathing.
Someone clearing their throat.
"Prom."
Gladiolus's quiet voice, albeit still as rough as gravel crunching beneath tires, caught his attention.
"You're makin' me nervous."
His leg stilled.
"... Sorry."
"It's fine." Gladiolus reached between them to cover Prompto's hand in his.
How stupid. Prompto was thirty-four and still needed someone to hold his hand when he got nervous.
He hated himself.
... He wished it was Ignis's hand.
Thankfully, this was a shared practice, so the patients in the waiting room were split up between three different doctors. It was only maybe fifteen, twenty minutes of waiting before his name was called and, by then, there were only two other people in the waiting room left to eye him suspiciously as he followed a nurse through the door that led them into a narrow hallway, to the same room he typically saw when seeing his doctor for yearly check up. The nurse asked him a few questions about his basic health, logging his answers on a tablet, then left him and Gladiolus alone so they could wait for the doctor.
The silence was almost unbearable.
When the doctor gave a cursory knock before entering, Prompto nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Hello, Prompto!" his doctor sang, dropping into a rolling chair, "How are we, today?"
What the fuck kind of question was that? "Um... Okay, I guess?"
She turned her smile to Gladiolus, who was standing next to him, "Is this your husband?" she extended her hand, "Hi, I'm Doctor Atlas."
"Gladiolus Amicitia," he returned the handshake, albeit awkwardly, "I'm a friend."
There was a brief stiffness in her expression that told them she had understood her err, but she took it in stride and kept her smile as neutral and welcoming as before, "My mistake, Mister Amicitia." She turned her eyes back to Prompto, who had start to feel like a heavy anvil was pressing down on his chest at the reminder that Ignis was home. "So, Prompto, tell me what's been going on. You're pregnant?"
Prompto started twirling a lock of hair around his finger, head bowed so he didn't have to meet her gaze. He nodded, suddenly wishing that Gladiolus wasn't here for this part.
But he wasn't gonna kick him out, so.
"Yeah. Found out this morning."
"Do you have the test with you?"
"Uh..." His cheeks warmed, and he pressed his legs together so he was taking up less space, "I didn't take a test."
He heard the sound of pen on paper as the doctor wrote something down, "Alright, that's fine. So, if you didn't take a test, how did you find out you're pregnant?"
There was an understandable suspicion clinging to her words, but he knew his doctor well enough to know that she wasn't about to chastise him, or look down on him. Even if he didn't like why he had to keep going to see a gynecologist, at least he could like his doctor. She was nice, and understanding.
"I'm showing," he said plainly, fingers drifting to his abdomen.
"Would you mind me taking a look at it?"
Well, it wasn't like he thought he could go through with this without _someone_ looking at it. Prompto stood up from his chair, lifting the hem of the pullover up so it was bunched up under his chest.
Her eyebrows disappeared underneath her bangs, as if she wasn't actually expecting to see anything worth mentioning, and she leaned forward in her chair to experimentally run the tips of her fingers over the curve, applying only just enough pressure to gauge its firmness. Gladiolus also wore an expression of surprise; if Prompto had been paying any attention to him, he would have noticed how his fingers twitched by his sides, wanting to reach out and touch.
"Yep, that's definitely a pregnancy belly," she withdrew her hand and let him drop his sweatshirt, "Do you have any idea how far along you are?" |
6b6c39105c4f4cdeadf40cf2c10b6daa | ['28f57888d1f2495f9da9f41edbb1ec45'] | Topaz whimpered, only to jump and curse a moment later when the lights on a car beside her blinked as someone unlocked it. Genny laughed, she glared and flipped her off. Once in the car, she reached up to grab the seat belt when something blue caught her attention, and she looked straight at Kandomere. He was grinning and winked at her, before he got into his car. The car that had scared her.
_That asshole._
14. Taz & Kandy
“You can’t avoid him forever, you know. He’s your boss.”
“But I can sure try.”
It had been two days since she realized she made a grave mistake, and other than briefly walking in for a signature here or a question there, Topaz had managed to avoid longer interactions with her boss. She needed some physical distance so she could process and adjust. Obviously she couldn’t continue their war, not like before. What if he thought that she was really flirting with him? The thought made her shiver in horror.
“It’s ridiculous,” Genny said, a look of disapproval thrown her way. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Are you kidding me, everything’s changed. I thought he was gay, Genny.”
“Oh stop it. You’re Topaz Bennett, you don’t cower and hide.”
“Well this week, I do.”
“No you don’t.”
Genny was smiling and looking confident in her statement, which was highly suspicious. Topaz narrowed her eyes, snapping her head to the door when she realized Genny wasn’t looking at her. She wished she could crawl under the desk and hide, but it was already too late. Kandomere opened the door and looked directly at her, pointing and then making a beckoning motion. “You, with me.”
“Well, actually Sir, I was right in the middle of something.”
“Agent Bennett. With me. Now.”
“May I ask what this is about, sir?”
“Bennett!”
She jumped up out of her chair in response, grabbing her jacket to slip it on as she followed after Kandomere. He was walking at a brisk pace and it was difficult for her to keep up. Biting her lip, she waited impatiently as the elevator took them down. Glancing at him wasn’t giving her any help either as he stared ahead, though he did appear to be a little crankier than usual. The click of her heels echoed in the garage, as she tried to keep up.
“You know I haven’t been cleared for active duty yet, right?”
“Get in the car.”
He was being awfully bossy. Rather than risk him yelling at her and attracting attention to them, she got into the passenger seat. She barely had her seat belt on when he pulled out of the parking spot and out of the garage. The central door locks engaged, making her frown and look at him. “What’s going on?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
An eyebrow rose and he gave her a sideways glance. “I am sure you do. So out with it.”
Turning her attention out the window, she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Should she tell him the truth or try to get away with a fib first. If she didn’t have to deal with the truth and could get away with a fib, that would be great, but the downside was that if he already knew why she’d been avoiding him, he was going to be even more pissed for being lied to. The lie was faster than the truth.
“I have been stretching out my paperwork, because I don’t wanna be sent home since there is nothing else for me to do, and I am still not cleared.”
He switched lanes so fast it made her glance at the speedometer. He was speeding, and when her eyes lifted to his face, she could tell by the grim line his lips were set in and the lines around his eyes that he was losing his patience quickly.
“Wanna try the truth now?”
“If you slow the fuck down. I don’t feel like dying today.”
He slowed down, and the tension that had drawn her shoulders up and together slowly ebbed away, allowing her to relax. She was still chewing on the inside of her cheek though, debating what to tell him and how. “It’s a little embarrassing to be honest…”
“Does it have to do with Elanil?”
“Elanil?”
“The woman that was in my office the other day. You took off like something spooked you after seeing her.”
“Oh. Yes. No. Well, not directly no, not like that, I mean…” She was tripping over her words as thoughts went through her mind in rapid succession. “Really, this is embarrassing, and I am not sure I should even say it.”
“Use your words. Out with it, Topaz.”
“That doesn’t help, just so you know.” More than ever she hated the way he said her name. It wasn’t his fault really, it was the name, but it rubbed her the wrong way all the same. “I sorta made an assumption, and I based my behavior toward you on that assumption. I guess I am not as good at reading people as I thought. So I think the entire time we have sorta been getting signals crossed and I feel horribly awkward because of it.”
Kandomere’s laugh was the most unexpected sound.
_Please don’t let him think I had a crush on him. Please, please, pretty please._
“Why are you laughing?”
“You thought I was gay, didn’t you?”
A weight dropped from her shoulders the moment he said those words. Color rose to her cheeks as she looked out the window. He figured that one out quickly, but at least the truth was out there now. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”
“It’s okay. I get that assumption often.” | 810b22ba49f7404b95514a6cef54d177 | ['28f57888d1f2495f9da9f41edbb1ec45'] | Resting his elbows on the table, he waved a finger at her in warning. “If I answer that question, I get to ask you something equally personal.”
“Fair enough,” Topaz answered with a smile. It wasn’t like there was anything to tell there really, nothing sensational anyway.
“We’ve been seeing each other for some time. She won’t commit until I quit this job and take on a more fitting role for an elf.” The look on his face after those words spoke volumes.
“So never?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Kandomere grinned and took a sip of his coffee. He looked far more relaxed sitting back against the leather bench than she had seen him in days. “She hasn’t figured that one out yet, and I am not very inclined to tell her.”
“Cheeky.” Topaz couldn’t help a little giggle. It was not something she had expected from him, but really, she should’ve with the way he reacted whenever she messed with him. He was probably far more human than he would ever admit to. Probably because he had been around humans for too long.
“Why would I ruin a good thing?”
“I think I am going to refrain from making a retort on that one.” Pushing her hair behind her ear, she looked down at her menu again, flipping it over to read the back, she made up her mind and placed it aside.
“My turn?” Kandomere asked.
“Sure.” Picking up her cup she took a careful sip, not wanting to burn her lips or tongue on the hot liquid. It was still hot, but drinkable. Taking another sip, she set the cup down, sitting back and waited for his question.
“Are you currently seeing someone?”
The question was far tamer than she had expected after his warning. She gave a little shrug. “That depends on your definition of seeing, I guess.”
“Romantically involved?”
She shook her head. “Oh god no. I had some boyfriends in the past, but I have horrible taste in men, as I am sure you’ve read in my file. After the last relationship ended in disaster, I decided I needed to focus on my own life, my dreams, and to hell with guys. And here I am.”
“I’ve read the file, and seen the pictures.”
“In my defense, he threw the first punch, I threw the last.” Topaz wasn’t ashamed of it. Sometimes things happened. It was the first and last time a man ever raised his hand to her, but it had made her decision on what to do about her future a whole lot easier.
“So you’re not romantically involved, but you are seeing someone.”
“Women have needs too, you know. I mean, we tried the relationship thing briefly, but the only thing we were really any good at was sex, so we cut out everything else, and now we just see each other when we have needs. It works.”
“Good to know.”
“What is?”
“That we’re both workaholics who haven’t got a fucking clue about this whole romance business.”
His laugh was contagious, and Topaz raised her coffee cup to him. “Ain’t that the truth. I’ll drink to that.”
The waitress returned, and like she suspected, Kandomere already knew what he wanted. She ordered the lunch special and handed their menus back. The woman said some nice things, to which Topaz simply smiled. Carla used the nickname ‘Kan’ again, which sounded kinda weird to her, so she made a face at him.
“Kan? It just doesn't sound right...”
Smiling a little sheepish, Kandomere shrugged his shoulders. “My name isn’t the easiest to make nicknames for.”
“Really? I hadnt even tried. Let’s see. Kan’s not it. Kand… nah, doesn’t sound right. Kandy!” Topaz giggled like an idiot as soon as she said it, almost doubling over with laughter when his face dropped. “That would definitely be your stripper name. So that leaves Mere… nope. That just sounds like you’re drunk. Hey, hey you, yeah you… ‘mere.” Her acting out being drunk and calling him over got the smile back on his face.
Wiping the tears of alughter from her eyes, she took a moment to compose herself before she spoke again. “I think you’re right. Not easy to make a nickname of that name. So what _do_ I call you then?”
“Anything you want,” he answered with a smirk and a wink that made it sound way too flirty.
Ignoring it, her mind was already trying to come up with new nicknames to try out. She smirked back at him while sipping her coffee.
_Famous last words, Kandy._
15. Sleepovers
It was one of those days where the only good thing was that her chair spun. At this point, she almost wished she hadn’t gone through all her paperwork already. The boredom was real, waiting for Kandomere to be done with his meetings and give her an assignment. Topaz blew out her breath as she spun the chair around slowly, halting it when Montehugh walked by and tapped the bun on the back of her head.
“Bad hair day again?”
“Bad hair week. Since I stopped taking the medication to sleep, I’ve been so restless I wake up looking like I stuck a dead shrub to my head.”
As soon as she saw the flash of blue, she sat up straight and drummed her fingers on the desk, smiling up at her boss. She hoped he had some good news, but he walked by to drop something on Montehugh’s desk first.
“Braid it and use Argan oil.”
“What?” Topaz looked from Kandomere to Montehugh, but he shook his head and shrugged, turning his attention to the file that was dropped on his desk. Quizzically she looked up at her boss. “Did you just give me hair advice?”
“Yes,” he deadpanned as he stopped in front of her desk. |
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