query_id stringlengths 4 64 | query_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | query_text stringlengths 66 72.1k | candidate_id stringlengths 5 64 | candidate_authorID stringlengths 6 40 | candidate_text stringlengths 9 101k |
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9a06e22dda0d44f78d8fef3d941d4167 | ['2913139f75ec45518331f9f1eee9615b'] | I didn't mean it....
**Author's Note:**
> This is just a short story so
Erens came back to the apartment and opened the door and waiting for him, tapping his foot was an angry looking Levi in his little cleaning outfit"um, is there something wrong?"eren asked looking at the shorter male"oh, you know exactly what's wrong Dont cha Yeager!"he said still tapping his foot"um what exactly?"eren questioned,"oh you little shit you don't think I noticed the little juice stain on the carpet!!"he said stepping to the side, and pointing to the stain on the floor. eren just stared at the stain in confusion"um that wasn't me"he said still staring at the redish juice that stained the tan carpet"oh really,your gonna play the I didn't do it game"Levi said,his brows turned back to ther usual place making Levi look expressionless.levi walked closer to eren until he was directly Infront of him,he grabbed the collor of eren shirt and pulled it down so that now he was face to face with eren"listen here, brat you are going to look me in the eye and tell me you did not make that stain"Levi said with a serious tone,eren looked straight into the black haired boys grayish black eyes and said"I swear I did not make that",Levi shoved eren back,making him stumble and fall backwards"I know your lying to me"Levi said glaring at the younger male, eren angrily looked back at Levi"I'm not fucking lying!!, if I made that stain im pretty sure I would've cleaned it up!"he said"no you wouldn't have!"Levi snapped back,eren got up from the ground"oh really what make you say I wouldn't have!?"he said clenching his teeth,Levi looked up at the younger brown hair boy and simply said"because you..barely clean up after your messes......"eren furrowed his brows"I DO CLEAN UP MY MESSES!!!"he said in an Agitated tone,Levi raised his brows"No.....you don't...brat"he said,eren clenched his teeth again, he just wanted to hit Levi so badly, because obviously he has no sense in his mind"well...."Levi said waiting for a response from the brunette"well what!?"eren still clenching his teeth"well, might aswell just say that you barley pick up your messes and that juice stain is one of them"Levi said,eren was now mad, this man was accusing him of something he didn't even do, eren raised his fists and tried to punch the smaller boy Infront of him.Levi ducked"so..that's how you wanna play"he said shoving eren to the ground and kicking him right across the face,knocking out a single tooth from his mouth"ow..."eren said holding his cheek that was just kicked,Levi just looked down at the boy that seemed to be bleeding from the nose and slightly from the mouth,eren was about to get up and hit Levi back until the doorbell rang | 2e5c2d1336d240249c3da346cfe3a639 | ['2913139f75ec45518331f9f1eee9615b'] | Photographs hold memories
**Author's Note:**
> Now rember im fairly new to the show attack on Titan, so please don't hate on me
Jeans POV
God why does this task have to be so fucking hard
You thought to yourself, as you stood in the doorway of your bedroom that you used to share with someone,who you loved so dearly
Agh God the thought of him and just saying his name, mad you feel uncomfortable, or just cry in general
you felt yourself tearing up a bit,you wiped your eyes and sniffled"I'm....sorry...Marco...."you said letting out a sigh, and stepped inside the room, you grabbed one of the empty boxes from outside the door and set it at the edge of bed and began to walk over to Marcos drawer, you glance at all the things that were on there, you chuckled as you saw a little horse figure on his drawer, you just sighed again and picked up the horse figure and walked over to the empty box, and placed the figure in there, then you walked back over and picked up a few other stuff on the drawer and placed them in the box. you look back at the drawer and saw it was all clean, now you just have to move onto cleaning inside the drawer.... No that would be rude to mess with Marcos clothing,he probably would've left yours alone too if you were dead.. You thought, so you scratched the idea of touching Marcos clothing,and moved on to the closet You opened the left door,that's were Marco had most of his stuff,you |
f726c3c71eef4ff7a833a4484ab27313 | ['291cfb30c6424f45bb5e3a2c1677bc12'] | “Why aren’t you here? We’ve been waiting on you. We can’t get a hold of Brendon either.” Patrick sounded slightly upset about this. Ryan had known Brendon wasn’t available for the day, but apparently his boyfriend had forgotten to mention it to anyone else.
“Where exactly am I supposed to be?”
“The cake testing. For the wedding.”
Shit.
“I’m sick-”
“Ryan Ross, if you refuse to show up I will get Pete to drive over to your house and drag you over here. I need you, buddy. You wouldn’t ignore your best friend’s wedding, would you?”
Silence.
“No, Patrick,” Ryan finally sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. Where is it?”
He could _feel_ Patrick’s smile through the phone. He would probably regret this.
~
Brendon’s hand was cold where it was pressed up against Ryan’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re fine?” he asked.
Ryan nodded once. It was the day after cake testing. Patrick had made him eat so many samples his throat was raw from the aftermath. It hurt just to whisper.
“Okay,” Brendon said, voice soft. “Get some rest and remember, don’t speak. It will make the pain worse.”
Brendon thought Ryan had the flu.
As soon as the door shut behind Brendon, he dashed for the bathroom. He needed to see the scale. Had it gone up yesterday?
No. It was less. Now Ryan could easily count all of his ribs.
~
"Hey Ryan," Brendon called from the small living room in their cheap apartment. "There's that new Italian place in town, want to check it out Friday?"
Ryan felt his stomach drop out from underneath him. It was Tuesday, and there was a reason he had avoided that place. Their servings tended to be large, and it was crowded. There was no way he could eat that much, even without making himself throw it up. His stomach just wasn't strong enough.
He felt himself half turn from his place in the hallway. "Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded far away to even his own ears.
"Great!" The sound of the TV being restarted allowed Ryan to finally breath and quietly sprint down the hallway.
He pushed away the beginning of a panic attack. This will turn out fine, he told himself. He hoped.
~
“Ryan, my baby!”
Ryan turned around. He and Brendon were at the supermarket, hands linked as they walked down the candy aisle. Sometimes, Ryan thought that Brendon was a child transported to the body of an adult. There was no way anyone could be that enthusiastic all the time.
His mother was standing behind him.
He blinked, and suddenly he was engulfed by the scent of grapefruit. It was his mother’s favourite perfume, and she wore it everywhere. She squeezed him so hard it felt like his bones were going to break. His hand instinctively tightened on Brendon’s.
“Mom,” he said, voice muffled by her bright pink sweatshirt. “Hey.”
“George Ryan Ross III, don’t you dare ‘hey’ me. I’ve been waiting for you to call me for weeks! Oh, hello, Brandon.”
“It’s, uh, Brendon actually,” Brendon said, looking uncomfortable.
“Whoops, sorry about that, dear.” She didn’t look very sorry. “So George, how have you been doing?”
Ryan shifted. His mother insisted on calling him George even though he felt that was too closely linked to his father.
She didn’t care.
“Fine. I’m living with Brendon now, and Patrick’s having his wedding soon.”
His mother ditched the first part of that statement for the latter. “Patrick’s getting married? Oh, my! He’s such a nice boy, don’t you think? Who’s the lucky girl?”
Ryan exchanged glances with Brendon before looking up into his mother’s eyes. He didn’t get his hazel eyes from her golden brown ones. They were from his father. “Er, um. It’s not a girl, mom. It’s a guy.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Mom,” Ryan started. He knew his mother disapproved of ‘that lifestyle’. “Patrick’s pansexual. He likes everybody.”
“Is he now?” She looked thoughtfully at some candy corn to her left. “I guess I can see that. He’s such a sweet boy. Who is he, then?”
“Pete Wentz,” Ryan winced.
His mother hummed. Her disapproval of their old neighbor seemed to have disappeared.
Now or never.
“And, um, mom?”
“Yes, George?” She turned from studying the candy corn.
“I’m gay.”
She didn’t speak. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were wide.
“Brendon’s my boyfriend,” he rambled on, clutching the other’s hand. Brendon was his lifeline, keeping him from falling off the cliff. “We’ve been dating since high school. That’s why he was around so much. I don’t know if it changes anything-”
“George,” she interrupted. “It’s okay. I still love you.”
Ryan head lifted. “Really?”
“Yes. The thing I’m worried about is why you look like you just crawled out of a concentration camp.”
Ryan gasped, tears pricking his eyes. _What?_
Brendon, meanwhile, was fuming. “What gives you the right to say that?” he spat at her. “You’re Ryan’s mom, not an asshole freshman who thinks it’s okay to say those things!”
She narrowed her eyes defensively. It was almost funny how fast she could go from supporting mother to condescending parent. “I will tell George whatever I want. It is the truth. He looks like a walking corpse.”
“It’s Ryan, actually. Just leave him alone, and don’t even try to contact him. I’m not afraid to go to jail.” And with that, Brendon tucked a shaking Ryan into his side and made his way out the door.
_It’s not that bad, is it? Do I really look that horrible?_
Ryan trembled harder. Maybe it was that bad. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
~
Ryan looked down at himself in the changing room mirror. The pale blue shirt hung off his frame, much too big to fit him. His sharp shoulders looked like they were ready to pierce through the shirt.
“Shit,” he whispered. He rechecked the size. It was a small. | f2ee5bb9222444cd9885c73b3c89c773 | ['291cfb30c6424f45bb5e3a2c1677bc12'] |
**Author's Note:**
> Why are there 5000 characters for an authors note
>
> anyway yes this has a trigger warning.......I never explicitly describe anything so it's not really bad at all I don't think
>
> I also don't own panic! or fob
Brendon did not need to figure out what was up with Ryan.
Sure, he was skinny, but he had always been that way. Sure, he barely ate anything, but he had always had such bad stomachaches after a huge meal. And sure, there were some nights when he was knelt in front of a toilet bowl, trying desperately not to wake his sleeping boyfriend, but he didn't have the best immune system. That's what he told himself.
But the thing about Ryan is that he's a shitty liar.
So when Brendon finally started becoming suspicious of his behavior, finding the smallest ways to stay by him while he ate, Ryan felt scared. He had never stopped to realize how dangerous this was, puking up everything to the point where he could barely nibble bread. Now it had taken over his life and it was spiraling out of control.
~
"Ryan, my man!" Pete's voice rang out in the club. Ryan winced when he grabbed his arm. A drunk Pete was not something he wanted to deal with.
"Pete," he said, much softer than the man clinging to him like a koala. It was ridiculous, because Pete was nearly bigger than Ryan and Ryan was on his way to skin and bones-
But we don't talk about it.
"How have you been?" Pete slurred into his ear, leaning heavily on Ryan, who almost crashed into another dancer. Why did he decide coming to a club was a good idea?
"Fine," Ryan said, forcing himself to believe it. "Who'd you come here with?"
"Patrick. Pattycakes. Trick. Rickster," Pete giggled, obviously drunk off his ass.
Ryan sighed. "Where is he?"
"By the bar," Pete said, attempting to point there as well. His finger came nowhere near the intended target. "I'm in love with him, you know."
"Yes, Pete, we all know. I'm still not sure how he doesn't," Ryan replied, searching the bar for Patrick. He was sitting on his phone, looking very uncomfortable while a couple made out intensely next to him.
"Ryan, why are your arms so thin? They're like noodles!" Pete exclaimed, still giggling maniacally.
Ryan gulped, detaching Pete’s hand from his arm. "Let's just get you to Patrick, okay?"
~
Ryan looked up from his seat in the cafe to see Spencer sliding into the booth across from him. They had been waiting to meet up for weeks, ever since running into each other in the bookstore across the street. Spencer and Ryan had been roommates in college, and had been dying to meet up for some time. The only setback was that Ryan had changed his phone number when he graduated.
“Ryan,” Spencer said, grinning. “Is that coffee any good?”
He unconsciously took a sip of it. “Amazing.”
Spencer looked pleased with himself. “I told you, didn’t I?”
Ryan laughed. “You did. How’s life?”
“It’s shitty as always, but I’m fine. Haven’t been kicked out of my apartment yet, which is nice.”
Ryan leaned back. “You’re still playing drums?”
He remembered the day he first moved into the dorm room for college. His parents had been there, insisting on standing by the car so he could “get to know his roommate”. His stuff was already moved into the room, sitting neatly on the left bed so he and his roommate could decide where everything went. There had been only stacked boxes on the other side, where “Spencer Smith” had been scrawled in messy handwriting on them.
Then Spencer had walked in. His green polo was wrinkled in places and the sleeves were shoved up his arm, his hair was messy and smile crooked, but Ryan knew they would get along well. Later that night, they had both struggled to get all of their boxes unpacked quickly. It didn’t work out that well.
“What’d you put in here, a drumset?” Ryan had panted, trying not to drop a ridiculously heavy box.
“Actually,” Spencer had said, dropping a smaller box on his bed. “Yes.”
“Wouldn’t dream of stopping,” Spencer said now, bringing his coffee to his lips. He pushed a cupcake towards Ryan. “Want some?”
“Nah, not hungry,” Ryan said, hiding his fidgeting hands in his lap. Spencer would immediately know he was lying.
But Spencer only wrinkled his brow and pulled the cupcake back. Ryan stifled a relieved sigh.
~
“Two chocolate chip muffins, please,” Ryan told the lady at the counter.
She smiled sweetly at him. The obnoxious pink banner behind her advertised new pastries for sale. “Both for you?”
Ryan’s grin faltered. “No, actually. They’re for my boyfriend.”
Her smile never wavered, although he saw something in her eyes shift. It was a look he had seen often in other people. It meant they were concerned for him. Unsurprisingly, Ryan was starting to hate that look.
His body was fine. He was reaching his goal of 115 pounds. It was a little more than he wanted, but he knew if it was less, people would find out. They couldn’t find out. Never.
She grabbed another muffin and threw it in the bag. “This one’s on the house,” she said as she handed it over to him. “You need to get a little meat on those bones.”
Ryan still felt guilty hours after he had tossed the extra muffin in a dumpster two blocks from the cafe.
~
Ryan dashed for the phone and got there just in time. Leaning back against the counter, he brought it up to his ear and said, “Hello?”
“RYAN.” Patrick’s voice came over the line, clear and loud. Ryan winced.
“Yes?” |
8fdf6f32b6d944bc984ae37f268ae041 | ['292dbae2ed0647df91a8ae8168fc81a1'] | Kevin really fucking never realized. All this time, he thought it had been about him leaving Oklahoma, but now he knows he couldn’t have been more wrong. It was about them, him and Russ, Russ _loving_ him, and Kevin being stupid and arrogant enough to think he could fire off a text and it would all be fine. Because he remembers that, now, too: that he really thought it wasn’t that big of a deal. He remembers, clear as day, the shock he felt when Russ lashed out.
He thinks about the championship ring sitting in a case at home, the photo of him with the trophy, everything he thought he ever wanted. He remembers, he thinks, the yellow and blue confetti now. He remembers how empty he still felt the next day.
He feels, abruptly, sick to his stomach, and he grabs the trash can just in time to throw up into it. When he’s done, he sets it down and leans forward, elbows on his knees, and tries to focus on his breathing. God. He can’t believe how badly he fucked this up. His eyes feel hot, and he squeezes them shut tight and chokes down a sob and tries to process the fact that he knows, now, that he loved Russ too.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there when Steph walks by, stops when he sees Kevin and hesitates in the doorway. “Hey, uh… you okay?” he asks.
“No,” Kevin says, looking up at him. “I’m really not.”
Steph takes another step into the room. “You wanna talk?”
“How did I never know he loved me?” Kevin asks, a rhetorical question, and Steph freezes mid-step, clearly getting more than he bargained for.
“I, um.”
“I loved him too,” Kevin says. “I fucking missed it, man.”
“Do you want me to get Klay?” Steph asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s still here, this sounds like more his…”
“No,” Kevin says, his mind racing ahead, crackling with energy and purpose for what feels like the first time in a long time. He doesn’t know if he can fix it anymore; before, he was always so sure that he could. Now he doesn’t know, but he’s desperate to try. “But I do need your help with something.”
-
So that’s how Kevin ends up waiting in a trainer’s room, not unlike the one he had a breakdown in earlier that day, at Oracle before the game. Steph and Dray came up with a plan to get Russ to the room; Klay is supposed to distract Russ’ teammates. Kevin doesn’t have a ton of faith in the plan — what is Klay gonna do? Show them pictures of Rocco? — and Draymond definitely said something about Chloroform, which is disturbing and would also defeat the purpose, since Russ needs to be conscious, but he was joking. Kevin is pretty sure.
He hears Russ before the door even opens, bitching at Steph about how weird this is, “spy shit, man, what the hell,” and Steph politely answering. Kevin swallows, slides off the massage table and stands in the middle of the room.
The door opens.
Russ is framed in the doorway, Steph and Dray behind him, for just a second. He’s in his warmups already, OKC logo splashed across his chest — Kevin is just in sweats and a plain gray tee. Dray shoots Kevin a double thumbs up, grinning widely and sticking his tongue out, before Steph shuts the door.
“Really, man?” Russ says, hands on his hips. “You couldn’t just ask me if we could talk?”
Kevin shrugs. He doesn’t quite know how to articulate how important this is, how he didn’t want to take the chance that Russ would say no.
“Whatever,” Russ mutters. He’s not looking at Kevin. “Make it quick.”
“You were right,” Kevin says. “In LA, I mean. When you called me a coward.”
Russ’ face doesn’t change, but he drops his hands to his sides. It’s a small thing, but it buoys Kevin up, and he takes a breath and keeps going.
“I remembered why I left, man, and it’s… I was scared,” Kevin says plainly. His hands are shaking. “Shit was getting too real with us and I wanted it so much and that terrified me.” He remembers it all, now: the night they lost the Conference Finals, yes, Russ showing up at his room with tired eyes and leaning up to meet him when Kevin kissed him up against his hotel room door, but the rest of it too. They’d gone back to Oklahoma and it had been lazy and easy, like the whole summer, their whole lives were stretched out in front of them. Then it wasn’t. Kevin remembers waking up one morning at the end of June, a pit in his stomach and a fear so big it’d felt like he was drowning in it. He remembers the kissing, the firm lines of Russ’ body underneath him; he remembers jerking each other off while they binged shit on Netflix, and he remembers the blowjobs out by the pool, the faint taste of chlorine on Russ’ skin. Russ’ thumbs firm against the jut of Kevin’s hips, pressing him down into the couch later.
He remembers Russ wanting Kevin to fuck him, wanting more, and he remembers the way it sat in his gut, uneasy, afraid. He remembers the surprise, the hurt on Russ’ face when he’d told him not yet.
He remembers that they never actually fooled around in a bed.
Russ is just watching him still, waiting. His face had been angry but it’s smoothed into something more neutral.
“I was in love with you,” Kevin gets out. “Still am.” There it is. He feels like his heart is splattered on the walls. The world is still turning. | 0236d782e751406995d18bf22d8d7c6b | ['292dbae2ed0647df91a8ae8168fc81a1'] | Tyson’s luck doesn’t last: on their way out at the end of the day, Gabe catches up with him. He was almost to his car and everything, had even already hit the button to unlock it. If he’d just been 30 seconds faster he’d be driving away already, on his way home to make a batch of cookie dough and eat it raw while lying on the couch.
“What, Gabe?” Tyson asks irritably.
“Look, I get it, you hate me,” Gabe says, and Tyson immediately bristles, because he’s absolutely fucking allowed to hate Gabe right now, no matter what Gabe has to say about it. “But we’re getting back out on the ice tomorrow, and we’re going to have to play together, and I just wanted to make sure that - ”
“Jesus,” Tyson spits. “Don’t worry, I’ll be professional. I’m not going to sabotage the team, but it’s good to know that’s all you care about.”
Gabe looks hurt. “That’s not fair. I’m trying, I - ”
Tyson laughs a very loud, very fake laugh. “You‘re _trying_. Sure. Here’s what’s going to happen, Gabe: we’re going to play hockey together, we’re going to be professional, and it’s going to be fine. Off the ice, outside of the room? We don’t know each other. We don’t talk. I’m not gonna make it uncomfortable, I’m not gonna create drama and ask for a trade, but I can’t be friends with you. Okay?”
Gabe sighs.
“You better say okay, because there isn’t another option,” Tyson warns. His whole chest aches, although he isn’t sure if he’s angry or sad. Both, probably.
“Okay,” Gabe says very quietly.
“Great,” Tyson says, and turns to walk to his car, finally, and get in. Gabe stands there and watches him go. Tyson somehow resists the urge to hit him, which means he’s going to make the cookie dough and eat it in bed. He deserves it.
-
Gabe listens, though, and after that it goes pretty much like Tyson needs it to. On the ice they’re fine: they communicate and make plays and after the first few times a goal is scored when they’re both on the ice the white-hot hurt of celebrating together with their teammates while knowing it doesn’t go any further than that subsides into a dull ache. Tyson starts going out for drinks when a group gets together again, and they mostly just stick to opposite ends of the table and talk to different people.
It’s fine, though, is the point. Tyson is managing. Until he isn’t.
It’s late January when he walks into the locker room for an off-day practice and sees Gabe’s stall covered in pink balloons, which is kind of weird, and then he sees Gabe, wide grin on his face, talking to Z and Soda. Tyson takes a step backwards, barely aware of what he’s doing or even quite why, and crashes into Mikko, who barreled into the room behind him holding a naked baby doll.
“Did you hear?” he asks Tyson excitedly, not waiting for an answer before he drops the bomb: “Sarah’s pregnant! Gabe is a dad!”
Tyson doesn’t even think about the possible consequences of what he’s doing, he just leaves. Goes out to his car and drives out of the parking garage and takes himself home. His brain doesn’t quite catch up with his body until he’s parked in his garage, and then he swears and finds his phone and texts Nate, _had to leave tell coach i’m sick_
Nate texts back within a minute, a second message immediately following the first:
_i’ll tell him_
_u heard?_
Tyson texts back _yup_ and then turns off his phone, goes in the house, closes every curtain and window shade, digs a carton of cookie dough ice cream out of his freezer, and cocoons himself in two blankets on the couch with the ice cream, the TV remote, and a box of Kleenex. So he’s a walking cliche, who gives a fuck.
When Nate lets himself in the house three hours later, the ice cream is mostly gone and half the box of Kleenex is wadded up at Tyson’s feet, and Tyson is staring blearily at the TV without really seeing it while a House Hunters rerun plays.
“Okay,” Nate says gently, taking the carton of melted ice cream out of Tyson’s hands and setting it down on the coffee table. “You want to talk about it?”
“No,” Tyson says, pulling one of the blankets up over his head.
“Tys,” Nate says. He leans over and starts picking up Tyson’s snotty, cried-on Kleenexes.
“That should’ve been me,” Tyson manages.
“What, pregnant?” Nate asks. “Look, I have bad news for you, then.”
“No, asshole,” Tyson says, swiping at his eyes. “I - you know what I mean. I really thought that would be us.”
“Having kids, really?” Nate says. “Did you talk about it?”
“No.” Tyson picks up the remote and turns the TV off, and then lies down on the couch, staring miserably up at the ceiling. “It was like… serious. I don’t know. I thought about it, and I wanted it, and… I saw myself having it. With him.”
Nate makes a low, sympathetic noise and reaches over to pat Tyson’s foot.
“God, he probably broke up with me because having kids with me would’ve been too hard,” Tyson says.
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Nate says.
“Think about it, Nate,” Tyson says. “Everyone knows that Gabe wanted kids, and he broke up with me because he met a girl. Now they’re married and she’s pregnant, isn’t that so sweet? What a nice story. What a happy ending for them. Too bad for Tyson, with his non-uterus and inability to have children. Screw that guy, he can die alone, Gabe and Sarah and their beautiful baby don’t care.”
Nate sighs. He doesn’t say anything. It’s very quiet. |
51b17a11609e40309fa98b5cfdffb282 | ['29365a7dce6a48f7a895c7cb87139c8d'] | A Duty of Care
_If you love me in any way, you’ll come back._
Her legs dangled from the doors of the TARDIS as she stared at the distant Earth in front of her. The strumming sound of the electric guitar filled the TARDIS. It sounded new, nothing like she’d heard before.
He was facing the console, eyes closed, his thoughts focused on the song he was practicing. His thoughts were on Clara, like usual. Part of him wished that she knew it was for her, but it had to be a surprise. He’d tell her someday that it was for her. Someday.
He stopped playing and let his hands fall from the strings of the guitar as he felt her arms wrap around him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” he asked.
“Coming back to me,” she said. She stood on her toes to rest her head on his shoulder.
“It was nothing,” he said. “Really.”
“Not dying on me is everything!” she blurted out.
_Not with me! Die with whoever comes after me, you do not leave me!_
He tensed up, her plea still fresh in his mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said, moving away from him. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He grabbed her arm as she started to walk away from him.
“I understand why you said it,” he said. “Why you doubted me.”
“I don’t want to be left behind, you know,” she said. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you.” She turned around, her eyes avoiding his. He pulled her towards him, letting her arms wrap around him once again. The touch of his long, warm hands rubbing up and down her back soothed her.
“Clara Oswald,” he began, his voice soft and low. “You will never spend the rest of your life alone.”
She nodded against his chest, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips. He pressed his lips to her forehead and continued down her to neck. She couldn’t suppress her giggle much longer. His hands made their way to her shoulders as she pulled away from him.
“You know, you should let me wear your specs more often,” she said.
“And why is that?” he asked.
“Because they looked good on me,” she said, fluttering her lashes. “And you got a kick out of me wearing them.”
“I did not,” he said, dropping his arms from her shoulders and folding them across his chest.
“Whatever you say,” she said as she walked towards the other side of the console. She tinkered around with a few buttons, making sure that he’d see her lips form into a pout. It took everything in her to not laugh as he walked towards her, giving her a once-over before he was no longer in her view.
His footsteps stopped behind her and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. Shivers ran up and down her spine, the sensation making it harder for her to fake her disappointment. She pressed her lips together to fight the growing smirk on her face. However, she lost the fight the moment he wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her head and tightened his hold on her.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. They both had a duty to each other, she realized.
_A duty of care._ | f6293acbb5ec4888a9906aafe2e01e01 | ['29365a7dce6a48f7a895c7cb87139c8d'] | I Will Endure
_Beyond the unfolding of your smile, is there other kindness?_
He could hear her soft sobs from the other side of the door. It had exactly four weeks since it happened. Just merely a month since she was ripped from them. It had been four weeks of running and denial between them. She wasn’t forgotten. It wasn’t brushed aside. Just hidden. Burning within the both of them.
It was seared in his mind, the look of fear in her eyes as crimson covered the sheets. He couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. The pain took over her body. Sweat covered her forehead. Her wails sounded within the room. Then, it was over. No cries were heard. Just silence.
He opened the door as quietly as he could. Her sobs were replaced by sniffles by the time he closed it. She was on the floor, clutching the pastel blanket to her chest. His knees wanted to buckle at seeing the room again. The unused nursery. The white crib stood out against the black on the wall. A lump formed in his throat at the sight of the white dots. He’d painted the constellations on it himself. The mobile of stars from his crib hung above what would’ve been hers slowly swung around in circles.
“Why are you in here?’ she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said.
“I deserve to be,” she said as a bitter laugh escaped her lips. “After what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything,” he said.
“I killed her, Doctor. She died because of me and my stupid human body!”
He sat down on the floor next to her. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands. “It’s not your fault, nor is it mine,” he began. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Why?” she demanded as her voice broke.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Tell me.”
“I just did.”
She shook her head, her mind unable to accept it.
_There's nothing you can do._
But she had to.
“We’ll see her again someday, yeah?” she asked. He used his thumb to wipe her tear stained cheeks.
“Of course we will,” he said. He dropped his hands from her face and rested them on top of hers. “Wherever we go after this life, we’ll be with her again.” A faint smile curved across his lips. He stood up and extended his hand out to her. The weight of it all sat on her heavily but she wasn’t going to carry it alone.
She grabbed his hand, a sharp breath escaping her lips as she stood on her feet. Her eyes wandered between the crib and the blanket still gripped in her hand.
“We have to soldier up and move on, don’t we?” she asked.
“We have to heal. We may never truly move on, but we can’t live like this forever.”
She nodded and began stepping towards the crib. He kept his hands on her shoulders, having her back like always.
“We’ll do this like we do everything else. Together.” She set the blanket in it, smoothing it out with her fingers.
“Together,” he agreed.
As they walked out of the room, they turned around to give it one last look.
_I will endure._ |
7934afa0bba34bc3a3688f3b84396f33 | ['29553f59e8c140beb974746c75112f36'] | The call ends on her giggle and she tucks her phone into the inner chest pocket of her jacket before zipping it up to her chin. Before stepping into the snow, she takes a brief moment to stare. She’s always loved snowstorms, and while this isn’t technically a storm yet, it’s still beautiful. A thin layer of snow already blankets the ground; all of the buildings and trees appearing as if they’ve been sprinkled with powdered sugar. Everything seems so still, entrapped in a moment of beauty and she can’t help but smile. Once her moment of appreciation ends, she clips her helmet secure with the strap under her chin and pushes the large glass door open to step onto the sidewalk and collect her bike from the rack she always keeps it on. After packing away the chain and lock, the brunette brushes off the seat and handlebars. She then walks the bike to the street, mounts it and begins her trek home through the quieting city.
About fifteen minutes in to her ride the snow starts picking up. The sky is almost black now and Laura has to squint a little against the wind. The only thing that’s keeping her from worrying is the fact that she knows her route by heart. She travels the same path every day, and she’s confident she could follow it with her eyes closed, but the weather isn’t helping at all. Her cheeks are red from the cold and her hands are growing numb from the assault of the icy air and snow combination. At one point her tires slip along the snow, losing traction for a beat, and she relents that she probably should have accepted the offer of a ride from Betty. She just didn’t think it would be this bad so early. Which therein lies her problem; she didn’t think. Sometimes her excitement tended to get the best of her, and now she was here, struggling to get back to her warm apartment where her wife was waiting for her.
_Her wife_.
They may have been married for a few years now, but that word still does funny things to her heart. It’s enough to spread comforting warmth through her body, make her legs work a little harder to push her forward, closer to where she wants to be.
She’s crossing an intersection when it happens.
She had the right of way, the LED image of a walking man let her know as much, and the red light emanating from the streetlight above her alerted her as well, so she went for it. She was halfway across when the car came out of nowhere. She doesn’t even see it before it collides into her, but she hears it-sort of. She faintly catches the sound of tire crunching against snow, breaks hissing against the force of their owner, but it’s too late. The car hits her and the wind is snuffed from her lungs instantaneously. It happens so fast she can’t even scream. The bike crumbles in submission beneath her and she is plucked into the air like a ragdoll before coming down hard against the windshield, head knocking back unnaturally. The glass splinters and shatters from the impact and she’s hauled slightly upwards from sheer force. When she falls limply from the side of the hood onto the ground, her back is sliced and bleeding, her helmet cracked and in disarray on her head. A bruise is already forming where the chinstrap nestles too harshly against her throat and her nose is bleeding. She can’t breathe. Her ears are ringing and all she can see are the snowflakes falling to their demise from the angered sky. They’re fatter now, fluffier. She has half a thought to open her mouth to collect them on her tongue like she used to when she was younger, but she can’t move. She’s too tired to even try. So instead she focuses on the dancing flakes, and wonders how it feels to be that weightless.
A muffled voice -or maybe there is more than one- call out to her, forcing her eyes open. When did she even close them? The effort to keep them open, to stay awake is too much; everything is off focus and spinning now anyways. She feels sick and numb and drained. Ignoring the frantic pleas that she can almost decipher as her name, she closes her eyes again in favor of the still darkness. It’s intoxicating, quiet, and she can smell her mother’s favorite perfume now. It assaults her senses, filling her with comfort and she wants to cling desperately, because she misses her mother more than anything and in this place between reality and something else, she wants to see her one more time. But then everything starts to shift slowly. The perfume evaporates and then the sound of her dad’s laugh finds her, wrapping around her like one of those great, bear hugs he always gives. The kind that crushes her back, but at the same time makes her feel incredibly safe. She tries to laugh with him, but instead her throat gurgles somewhere on the other side of consciousness, full of blood. When his laughter begins to fade, Laura knows who comes next. She can feel it. Feel _her_. The smile that suddenly shines through the void is one she would recognize anywhere. Tears instantly flood her eyes, tracking rivers down her cheeks and when Carmilla’s face comes in to view she tries to reach out for her. There’s so much left she needs to say to her, to show her, but the hand that is outstretched is too far away and she feels her leaving before she’s ready. _Don’t go_ , she wants to scream, but Carmilla is gone before she can even try to open her mouth.
Everything goes black after that.
More voices are calling out to her, but she’s too far away to hear what they’re saying. | e60bfb6f254c42d581d45e7a107c850d | ['29553f59e8c140beb974746c75112f36'] | It’s still dark when she crosses the threshold, but in a second the woman behind her flips the switch and everything is bathed in light. Despite the strangeness that washes over her, the apartment is beautiful. It’s quaint and lived in and there are pictures almost everywhere she looks. The living area in front of her seems the most inviting, as it’s right there, and she takes a step in the direction of the entertainment center to inspect the photographs there when a loud series of tiny mews suddenly fill the apartment with alarm. The sound carries down through the stretch of hallway, along with the heavy pad of feet, until suddenly there’s a thin, black cat winding itself in a figure eight through Laura’s legs. She shrieks with surprise, almost tripping over the animal and throws a hand over her heart as she releases a heavy breath. The cries die down and are quickly replaced with thick, happy purrs that vibrate against her shins making the brunette’s shock deplete completely and she bites her lip as her first genuine smile breaks out across her face.
“Well, hello there.” She says through her smile, letting a small giggle slip when the cat meows in response.
Laura almost forgets that Carmilla is watching and complete misses the way the girl’s jaw clenches as she wills herself not to cry because she missed her so much. She doesn’t see the way she quietly pulls in a breath because seeing that smile and hearing that giggle somehow makes it all worth it. She’s oblivious to the way Carmilla runs her fingers through her hair and swallows down her frightened heart to instead smiling warmly and lean down to scoop up the small feline.
Laura’s smile follows the cat as Carmilla cradles him close to her, making it so their faces are pressed together while she scrubs the side of his cheek. “This is Bagheera.” She begins, looking to Laura as the cat begins kneading into the air. His eyes open briefly and she notes that he has one blue eye and one green eye. His coat is jet black and shiny, he looks well cared for and she knows he must be important to her- to them.
“I found him in the alley down the street when he was just a kitten. You weren’t on board at first to let us keep him, but after a week of caring for him myself because you teased that I couldn’t be held responsible enough, you stuck a red bow on his head and presented him to me as ours when I came home from work one day. He wasn’t too happy with the bow, but now I’m pretty sure he loves you more than he loves me.”
There’s a small, secret smile dancing across Carmilla’s lips as she recalls the memory and Laura is captivated. Her lips part to say something, though she’s not sure what – thank you, maybe?- But Carmilla keeps talking, having found a small bubble of safety and confidence.
“He missed you…I- we both did.”
A nervous blush creeps up Laura’s neck at the confession, but she smiles politely and bites the inside of her cheek as Carmilla talks a small step forward and holds Bagheera out to her.
“Welcome home.” She says fondly when Laura accepts the cat and cradles him easily in her arms like an old habit. He fits perfectly- his fur like velvet against her skin, and his purrs rumble contently into her chest, bringing an overwhelming sense of calm to the moment.
_Welcome home._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> AND SO IT BEGINS!!
>
> Thanks for reading, I hope to have the third chapter posted much sooner than this one. As always comments and things are always welcome <3
**Author's Note:**
> Quick note, I know very little about brain injuries, so please forgive me if I get any of it wrong. I'll do as much research as I can for accuracy purposes, but there's no way I can get it perfect.
>
> Anyways, thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter. Comments are always appreciated!!! :) |
21a3b76b77334626ab81c56de4190d1d | ['29566e46a9384e319ca063aad4228b35'] | ‘My mam managed to convince the Redemptionists of their loyalty. That I had just been a bad seed, but that _they_ could still be trusted. It was an impressive feat, if you think about it, but still, it wasn’t considered safe for them to be out in the community. In case they managed to foster other _hostile elements_. So they were brought to London to work in the ministry as Servants of the People.’ Her voice wobbled as she finished. It was always so hard to think about. How her impulsive decision as a fourteen year old had led to what amounted to lifelong imprisonment for her parents.
She felt Patsy hold her a bit tighter, ‘I’m so sorry.’ The redhead leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, ‘It sounds like you didn’t have any way of knowing what would happen.’
‘But I _should_ have. I should have at least suspected that me leaving wouldn’t go unpunished.’
‘How _could_ you have, Deels? It sounds like you’d lived a fairly sheltered life up to that point.’
Delia shook her head and mumbled, ‘They should have told me. _She_ should have told me. My mam spent my whole life warning me about every single thing that could happen to _me_ , but she never told me something could happen to _them_. If I had known…’ Delia trailed off, closing her eyes. Because that was the rub, wasn’t it? If she had known…what then? Would she have stayed? Married some man of the council’s choosing? Played happy families? Her heart constricted at the very thought.
No, deep down she had to admit she was grateful that she hadn’t known. That she had been spared having to make the decision to leave with a full understanding of the consequences. And that truth nudged up against her greatest fear: that even knowing her parents would be arrested, maybe killed, she might have left anyway. She might have put her own future, her own happiness, above theirs. And it was hard…knowing, deep down, that she would probably have been that selfish. That she would have put the abstract idea of a cause that needed to be fought for above the safety of actual people in her life. Because she knew who she had been then. Who, apparently, she still was as recently as last year.
She shook her head, finding herself once again in the impossible position of not only needing to forgive herself for what she had done, but also for what she _might_ have done. She felt weak and hopeless as she muttered into Patsy’s chest, ‘They were ripped from everything they love, Pats. They could have died.’
Patsy cupped Delia’s chin and pulled her up gently so their eyes could meet, ‘But they didn’t. They’re resourceful and tenacious, like their daughter, and they found a way to survive. And it sounds like you’ve even found a way to be in contact, so they’ve been able to reconnect with _something_ they love.’
Delia furrowed her brow, ‘How do you know that?’
Patsy smiled softly, ‘You know what happened to them. You must know how unusual that is. How lucky you are.’
Delia looked down at her hands and nodded, ‘I know. And I actually have the Bloc to thank for it. Though it wasn’t altruistic on their part. Apparently, by the time I became a spy, my mam had worked her way up to serving an administrative role in the department responsible for various types of work placements. The Bloc found out and contacted her, hoping to leverage her relationship with me into an invitation to the anniversary gala where I was supposed to seduce Mrs Williams.’
‘I take it their leveraging attempts were successful.’
Delia shifted so that she was sitting next to Patsy, facing her, ‘Well, their methods were quite blunt-force, actually. They made me sit at a communication station and ask her, point-blank. It was one of the most excruciating things I’ve ever done. We were on a timed connection, so I had barely any opportunity for pleasantries or catching up, and it was so _hard_. Having to look at someone who I’d betrayed so thoroughly and tell her that I needed something from her. Something that might put her in danger. For a cause she didn’t believe in. To this day, I’m surprised she agreed. I think some of it was the shock and relief of seeing me on a screen after three years. She told me she’d thought I was dead, so simply knowing I wasn’t probably robbed her of her faculties for a bit.’
Delia shook her head, remembering the look of surprise in her mam’s eyes when she’d popped up on the screen. How the jubilation had faded when Delia had asked about the invitation. When it had become clear that, even after all that Delia had done, all that she’d put her parents through, this contact was little more than a business transaction. She’d _hated_ having to make that ask. Phyllis had assured her that there was no other way to get into the gala on such short notice, but still, it had felt so _dirty_.
‘I tried to make it so that the next time I contacted her it could just be to chat, but it was simply too dangerous. I didn’t want to put her at risk. The most I could do was make sure that the next contact, when we needed placements for Barbara and I in the compound the first time, was untimed. Winifred managed to make a secure connection, so I really had a chance to check in. I could tell her about my life since I’d left home—my time with the Bissettes, how I’d become a spy, how nice it felt to have a purpose…to feel like I was making a difference.’ | c0291fee084e41428a76996ed179f557 | ['29566e46a9384e319ca063aad4228b35'] | Delia relaxed noticeably as she responded, ‘I didn’t, actually. I had to rely on Winifred, Trixie and Barbara for pretty much everything. Oh, and a British Fencing manual Fred was able to scrounge up. When you mentioned fencing the night of the dance, I didn’t even know the difference between foil, épée and sabre. I just knew I wanted to make this happen for you.’
Patsy’s heart leapt back into her throat. That wasn’t something you said to someone you were treating out of obligation. Patsy chided herself for her tendency to overthink absolutely everything. She beamed back at Delia.
‘And I’m so very happy that you did.’ She looked Delia right in the eyes, ‘Thank you so much for this Delia. It’s a tremendously thoughtful and wonderful surprise.’
Delia grinned, her nervousness entirely dissipated. Patsy held her gaze for a few moments more before taking a small breath and continuing.
‘Now, as excited as I am about destroying you on the fencing strip’ Delia raised an amused eyebrow at that, ‘I _do_ feel obligated to do my due diligence and make sure Trixie isn’t currently trapped in the medical tent entirely by herself. I understand her desire to treat me to this experience, but I would feel quite terrible.’
‘There’s no need for concern on that front,’ Delia assured, ‘When I mentioned I had a small surprise planned for you, Phyllis actually volunteered to cover your shift. She said she’s just so happy to be able to walk around and feel useful again, she didn’t mind covering everyone’s shift for a week. I _think_ she was exaggerating, but I’m almost certain Trixie’s going to hold her to it.’
‘Delia, this hardly qualifies as a small surprise. You must have put dozens of hours of work into this.’
Delia shrugged and looked a bit defiant, ‘Phyllis doesn’t need to know _everything_ I do.’
Looking suddenly awkward, Delia gazed down at the ground, and kicked it lightly with her toe, ‘Speaking of Phyllis and knowing what I’m doing, before we begin, I have a confession. I haven’t been completely honest with you.’
Patsy was intrigued and waited patiently for Delia to continue.
‘There hasn’t been a project for Phyllis or for Julienne or for camp at all, really. I haven’t been working with you for the last week because…well, because Winifred’s been giving me an intensive fencing course.’ She began speaking rapidly, her nervousness almost palpable, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth and I’m sorry I lost out on an entire week of getting to work with you. I really missed you, but you said the thing you missed most from before the Reckoning was testing your wits and speed and skill, so I wanted to be able to at least hold my own a little bit. So it wouldn’t just be incredibly boring for you. Or too much of a let-down.’
Delia stopped her rambling and looked up tentatively. Patsy could hardly believe that she had heard the words she had hoped but dared not expect to hear tumble out of Delia’s mouth. Staring at the brunette, she spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, ‘You missed me?’
Delia broke into a broad smile, shedding her nervousness, ‘Of _course_ I missed you, you fool. Spending time with you is the best part of my day!’
Patsy thought she must be literally glowing with happiness. This _was_ something special. She knew she had the goofiest grin on her face as she responded, ‘I’m the same.’
They stood there for a moment just kind of staring at each other. Patsy wondered if this was one of those _moments_ she had trusted she would know. Delia’s eyes were filled with eagerness and excitement.
Patsy shook her head slightly and re-focused on the task at hand. Delia had put a great deal of time and effort into this surprise, and Patsy needed to honour that. Delia was eager to fence; to test out her newfound skills.
Putting on her haughtiest airs, she circled behind Delia onto the strip, lightly twirling the tip of the épée in the direction of the brunette.
‘Well, Ms Busby, you’ve missed out on a great deal of what would’ve undoubtedly been _highly_ compelling quality time with yours truly. Let’s test out your newfound skills, shall we? To see if the sacrifice proves to have been worth it.’
Delia looked amused, ‘You seem quite confident that _your_ skills won’t have deteriorated, considering you haven’t fenced in over a decade.’
Patsy spoke with intentional pretention, ‘I was _nationally_ ranked, Delia.’
Delia laughed, ‘I’m sure the competition in the girls under twelve category was fierce.’
Patsy’s eyes narrowed, ‘Oh it was. Candace Liu in particular was a nemesis of mine. She thought she was so high and mighty with her Leon Paul kit. But I still won that bronze medal match fair and square. Despite what her father said.’
‘Well well, I never knew you had this competitive side, Pats. Perhaps I need to be concerned about your honesty on floor hits, considering it sounds like you have a sordid fencing past.’
Patsy chuckled, ‘ _You’re_ the one who chose not to invite a referee to this affair. I’m sure Winifred would have obliged.’
Delia shrugged, ‘What can I say, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment of having anyone else see the humbling of formerly _nationally ranked_ Patience Mount at the hands of upstart rookie Delia Busby.’
‘Strong words, Ms Busby. Let’s see whether you can back them up.’ Patsy put on her mask and placed her left foot on her line. She got into the en garde position, épée held firmly but not too tightly in her left hand.
Delia looked surprised, ‘I didn’t know you were left-handed.’
Patsy responded teasingly, ‘I think you’ll find there’s a lot about me that you don’t know.’
Delia chuckled as she put on her own mask and got into position. |
5cfc1704f21f4fb7b8895519b4b7f1d8 | ['29cca938bf9a4812bc099f1e35f4aaa0'] | “Yeah.” He blinks. “Of course.”
“Can you watch me at tryouts today?”
Billy is too happy to oblige. He wishes Tommy, who’d been practically _vibrating_ with excitement, good luck at his tryout, as Slytherin went before Hufflepuff, and meets Teddy on the practice pitch later that evening. He smiles at him.
“You’ll do great.” He assures him. “I promise.”
“Thanks.”
The other boy looks less nervous than he did this morning, but Billy’s still a bit worried he might puke all over the pitch. He reaches forward and places a hand on his shoulder and gives him as hard a squeeze he can muster.
“Tee.” He starts. “I’ve seen you play. If anyone deserves to make the team, it’s you. You have nothing to be nervous about.”
“But Billy--”
“You’ve even got that new broom. You’ll be fine.”
“It’s not the broom that makes the player, it’s the--”
“Player that makes the broom. Yeah, yeah.” Billy smiles at him again. “Makes it all the better. Now go out there and show them all what you can do.”
Teddy breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. When they flutter open, revealing bright blue, they’re significantly calmer.
“You know,” He grins down at Billy. “I’m usually the one giving this talk. You always freak out about class.”
Billy laughs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Um, Billy?”
“Hmm?”
“You can let go of me now.”
Oh, right. Billy releases him as if Teddy’s shoulder were a fire he’d accidentally placed his hand in. Teddy grins back at him as he walks out on the pitch. He kicks off his ground as Billy takes a seat in the stands.
* * *
“I MADE THE TEAM, BILLY, I MADE THE TEAM!”
Billy wakes to Tommy practically tearing through the curtains on his bed. He groans and rolls over, away from the light, but the other boy jumps on his mattress. Billy sincerely hopes, for the sake of their roommates, that they're the only ones left in the dorm on this would-be beautiful Saturday morning.
“How long have you been up?” Billy mutters, keeping his eyes shut.
“Since six.”
“What time is it now?”
“Noon.”
Billy sits up and rubs his eyes. Tommy’s practically leaning over him with a big grin on his face. He thinks it may be the first time he’s seen the other boy genuinely happy. No, scratch that, happy doesn't cover it; Tommy is over the moon with sheer elation. He’d even called him “Billy”, not “Kaplan”.
“I made the team.” The other boy repeats, sitting opposite Billy on the bed. “I’m the Seeker. I made the team!”
Billy can't help but smile. “Brilliant, Tommy.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on Malfoy’s face.” Tommy pumps his fist in the air. “You know he tried out? For Seeker, too. Took the bloke a whole twenty five minutes out of thirty to find the Snitch. Know how long it took me? You wanna know?”
Billy nods.
“ _Twelve_ _.”_
“Blimey.” Billy grins. “That’s amazing.”
“I said I’d be Slytherin keeper one day.” Tommy shrugs and slides off the bed. “And now we’re going to win the House Quidditch Cup. You’ll come to the first match, right? Slytherin versus Gryffindor, the Hogwarts classic.”
“I’m not going for you,” Billy teases as he gets up and combs his hair. “I’ll attend for how good a match it's going to be.”
“Pfft.” Tommy stands next to him in the small mirror hanging next to the bed, preening at his own unruly locks. “You don’t even know the first thing about Quidditch.”
Billy glances up at their reflection. Last winter, Teddy had commented how they could be twins. He hadn't given much thought to it till now while staring at his own face reflected twice in the glass and in the boy standing next to him. Just dye Tommy’s hair black, makes his eyes dark, and they'd be identical. He remembers reading somewhere how everyone has at least seven other people that look just like them. It’s fitting he’d find one of his clones at a magical wizarding school, of all places. He wonders if Tommy thinks the same.
7. just a dream
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> whoops, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened after the first Quidditch match of the season
Billy wakes to the sound of childlike laughter. Blearily, he sits up in bed, expecting the relative darkness offered by the heavy curtains of a four-post. Bright sunlight, however, stings his eyes the moment he opens them; it filters through the open window in front of his bedroom at home, not Hogwarts, and casts a bright, sunny, painful-to-look-at glow over the place; the sunlight reflects harshly off the glossy posters lining his walls. His alarm clock beeps on his nightstand, but the noise seems far-off and distorted. When he slams his hand down on the button to silence it, it only keeps going.
His house is empty. He assumes it must be a weekday, since his alarm clock went off and his parents are most likely at work. That all means his brothers must be in school. He checks their bedrooms-- empty, no surprise-- and then trudges downstairs. The carpet feels soft on his bare feet, and the tile in the kitchen too cool. He peers in the fridge-- empty, a surprise-- and then steps back and looks around. His house looks just as it did the morning they all left for King’s Cross; everything is tidy and spotless, just as his mother likes it. Still, something feels off. He’d suspected it since he woke up at home, not in the castle, and when his alarm clock refused to turn off. | 4e822a1bd8344892afbd2325dc031423 | ['29cca938bf9a4812bc099f1e35f4aaa0'] | “I’m pretty sure people said Morgan le Fay, or whomever, was nice.” He snorts, referring to one of the witches in his history of magic textbook. “Um, can you not spread this around, by the way? I don’t really have friends as it is, and I think even the Slytherins would freak if they knew I’m supposedly descended from dark wizards.”
“Of course.” Teddy nods, looking him straight-on again-- a genuine gesture. “And Billy, I’m your friend. We established that on the Hogwarts Express, remember?
He can't help but smile at that. “Thanks, Teddy.”
“Of course, Bee.” Teddy then claps his hand over his mouth. “Oh, wow, sorry. I don't know if you're okay with nicknames.”
Billy laughs for the first time in what feels like ages. “I am. Tee.”
4. but you definitely act as if the world owes you something
The crisp fall quickly became a bitter winter with long snowy nights and frigid mornings. The potions dungeon feels even colder and damper than it did in the start of the term; it's so cold that Billy keeps his scarf on throughout the class. His stiff fingers struggle to quickly scrawl notes in his book about how to prepare a proper Wiggenweld potion. Next to him, Thomas-- _Tommy_ \-- Shepherd picks at a scab on his hand.
Billy hasn't interacted much with him since sharing his tin of cookies; the other boy just doesn't really seem to care for company. Since then, he's assigned himself as their notetaker in potions-- partially because Tommy’s writing looks like chicken scratch, but mostly because he can pay attention to Professor Snape long enough to retain all information. That task is a difficult one, however, as the winter holidays are just around the corner, and no one wants to spend the day before break learning about the multiple uses of sloth brain. Billy tries his hardest to give Professor Snape his undivided attention, but when he looks down at his notes he finds nothing but senseless doodles of sloths and menorahs. Tommy looks over at his notebook and snorts.
For their final assignment before the break, they're to separate the mucus from sloth brains. When Professor Snape sets a jar of the things on their table, Billy can't help but glance down at the cute sloths he’d doodled during the professor’s lecture. The black-haired man seems to notice, too, and nearly smirks before moving on to the next table.
“Nasty,” He mutters, opening the jar. Tommy peers over his shoulder with a wrinkled nose.
“I’m not touching that.” The other boy declares.
“Yes, you are.” Billy insists. “It’s graded on effort from both of us.”
“Well, then I’m putting forth minimal effort and you can do the rest.”
Billy opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. He reaches into the jar of sloth brains and pulls one out, already feeling sick to his stomach. Through the strainer, thick ribbons of mucus trickle down from the gelatinous pink mush and into the bowl they're supposed to collect it in. As Billy gets their work done, Tommy watches with morbid fascination.
“Do they feel weird?” He prompts, chin on his hand and elbow on the table. “The brains?”
“Like Play-Doh.”
Tommy blinks. “What’s that?”
“It's, um, a muggle toy.” Billy explains. “It's just this really squishy putty stuff, smells kinda weird."
“You’re a m--”
_“Of_ course he is.”
Draco Malfoy sits straddling his chair, making sure he's facing them. Billy remembers him fondly from their first flying lesson; he’d first made fun of Tommy, and then cruelly stolen a Gryffindor’s remembrall as a joke. It's not the first impression Billy would want to make, but he has a feeling that Draco Malfoy doesn't care.
“Just look at him.” Malfoy’s sharp grey eyes light up coldly, “Can’t even do this assignment right. Is your mommy still sending you cookies, Kaplan?”
It's a well-known fact that Malfoy’s mother sends him care packages full of cakes and candy every week. That very fact sits ardently on the tip of Billy’s tongue, but he simply ignores him and returns to the sloth brains in front of him. There isn’t a way to strain the mucus from a sloth brain incorrectly, he's sure of it, but Draco’s cauldron partner-- an ogre of a boy named Crabbe-- seems to be struggling.
“This coming from the prat that threw a fit when _his_ mommy sent the family owl a day late.”
Tommy Shepherd throws Malfoy a look filthiest than the one Malfoy himself treated Billy to. The corners of Tommy’s lips turn up into a mocking grin, but his eyes tell a different story. Billy again thinks back to that flying lesson, where Malfoy had said something about poor purebloods not being real purebloods. Tommy’s secondhand potions book sits forgotten at his corner of their desk.
For a second, Malfoy looks taken aback; as if he can't believe a boy with patched robes and an old wand landed that blow. Then, he regains the nasty look that says he can't believe a boy with patched robes and an old wand is _talking_ to him.
“Watch your mouth, Shepherd.” He sneers. “You can't afford to look like a blood traitor.”
Tommy grabs his wand, but Billy kicks his shin and just glares at Malfoy. “Stop.”
“I don't take orders from mudbloods.” He snickers haughtily, and then sizes them up. “Look at you. The two biggest losers in Slytherin house-- a filthy mudblood and a dirty poor blood traitor.”
The way Malfoy looks at him reminds Billy of how predators look at their prey. It's a look Billy knows too well; for years, he'd been on the receiving end of cruelty from other children. It doesn't matter that this world has moving pictures and enchanted ceilings-- bullies are bullies, magical or not. That wouldn't ever change. But now he can stand up to them.
He has _magic._ |
d2ec821ab20d40218ec0197eca787945 | ['2a002f3f9c844629aefd453132d54733'] |
What happened to Bravo One?
**Author's Note:**
> In Generation Kill we learn that First Recon's three front companies together held eight platoons. Why Bravo is lacking its First Platoon (Bravo One) is never explained, and this is irritating me to no end (together with other questions, as why Colbert and Espera but noone else wears the new camoflague pattern on their uniforms, and why Person is called Ray in the TV-series but Josh in the book, and probably twenty other things).
>
> That - however - is no excuse for this.
Major Todd Eckloff often proudly told himself that in the end, it all had come down to him. Godfather had been prepared to send First Recon Battalion to Kuwait decimated, with only two platoons in Bravo Company, and with weeks left to Christmas it had looked like the only possibility.
The first platoon in Bravo had been doing great in Afghanistan, but had suffered so much afterwards that when September ended Godfather had made the call to stop recruiting and leaving Bravo One half empty at Pendleton, should the call come for a mission next spring. It had been logical to make sure the other units were manned properly and focus on planning for the next trip to Afghanistan.
When it turned out to be Iraq instead, and Eckloff heard of Mattis’s plan of maneuver warfare, he had got a feeling. He would later describe it as realization had dawned when he was walking up the corridor at Margarita for a coffee refill in early December. He just suddenly saw that one more platoon would make it easier to split the battalion in three, making it more maneuverable, if Bravo had strength equal to Alpha and Charlie. He started talking to Major Whitmer, the Operations Officer who was walking next to him in the same errand, and suddenly Bravo One was back. Major Whitmer would later recall that he had pointed out the same reasons for filling up Bravo One repeatedly since September, but he told the Battalion XO nothing about it. Instead, it fell on him to actually make it happen.
Bravo’s own commander just nodded and said “Yeah” when faced with the new fact. Instead it was the Company First Sergeant, 1stSgt Morris, who teamed up with Whitmer and the central Marine recruitment and transfer office to get in enough Marines to fill it up.
When orders came, the senior enlisted man in the platoon was 1stSgt Alfredsson. He had been promoted since returning from Afghanistan and was one of the most experienced men in the battalion. As the need for platoon sergeants and higher senior enlisted was low (“experienced boots to make sure the young ones stand in line is actually the only thing we have in excess”, Morris sighed) Alfredsson had been left in charge of what was left of the platoon.
Since July, the platoon had lost three of its most experienced members. One team leader had been injured in a helicopter accident at parachuting school and still suffered back pains that looked to be chronic, and an RTO fell under mountain warfare training and the shattered bones needed repeated surgery. Finally, an ATL transferred out after disagreeing with his team. All this weighed on already heavy minds. In the early spring they had lost their medical support HM3 Liv. Liv had been asked to stay behind in Afghanistan to help evacuate wounded soldiers in Hindukush, and the aircraft had been shot down, killing five corpsmen, sixteen wounded and a crew of four.
Now none of the teams where at full strength, even included the men who were off at diving and parachuting schools. SSgt Zetterberg’s team had been number one in Afghanistan, and was the only one with four members today. For training purposes Team 2 and 3 had been merged, and even so they were one man short. And there was no platoon commander in sight.
Turning every rock available all the way up to Christmas, Whitmer and Morris finally got enough green lights from Transfer to be able to report that Bravo One should be able to fill up on paper before January 1st. How many weeks of training that would give the platoon was impossible to say, but at least it would look good on said paper, which seemed to be the Company Commander’s first priority. Favors had been called in, promises had been made and one of the members in Team One had managed to track down his brother in a LAR battalion and convince him to transfer. 1stSgt Alfredsson had brought in young men he hadn’t seen since he run boot camp with them two years earlier, and Morris had teamed up with the injured TL of Team Three to convince a former member to return. Whitmer had gone to extreme lengths to try and find an officer to take on this patched up version of a Recon platoon. In the end, he managed to convince the superiors of one of his top candidates, a 1stLT Backstrom who had been recommended by the previous Operations Officer. Backstrom was not yet 25, but had experience from Afghanistan with Second Recon. Second did not let him go easily – whatever happened in Iraq, they would be slated to go next – but Whitmer managed to convince them. When he put the phone down he was a little unsure of what he actually had promised to Second Recon’s XO, but he pushed it off his mind. He had got a commander for Bravo One, and the rest could be dealt with later. | 9a79d7e4b6ba4d69845a2991fe82c611 | ['2a002f3f9c844629aefd453132d54733'] | “Been through a lot these past few days. I know there's a lot of strong feelings. I want you to think of me as the kind of commander who's not only tough and aggressive, but who also cares. I want to hear exactly what your concerns are. What I mean is that I want you to talk freely. Forget my bars for a moment.”
No one spoke up. Things weren’t going according to Schwetje’s plan, and he chose Holsey.
“Corporal Holsey, is there anything on your mind?”
Stinetorf wondered if Encino Man knew the name of every marine in his company, or if he just knew Holsey’s because he was the only Afro-American in the company.
“Sir, is it true that we lost our battalion colors in the supply truck that Godfather ordered abandoned?”
_Good choice of question._ Stinetorf hoped he wouldn’t be singled out next. The only question on his mind was if Encino Man had any idea what they were doing and why. The not-so-secret opinion in the platoon was that the answer to both questions was a firm no.
Schwetje kept babbling and then turned to Baptista, trying and failing to read the eight-letter-word on his t-shirt.
“Baptist, how are you doing?”
Baptista smiled and let off a rant of Portuguese mixed words that Encino Man completely missed the point of. Doc was next up.
“Doc, how about you?”
He didn’t even look up, eyes still in his bag. “I’m all squared away, sir.”
Not even Encino Man could miss that obvious lie. Better men though might have left it with that.
“Doc, look, we all know how much the men look up to you. I’d like to know what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t think so.”
Stinetorf tried to find something to say that wasn’t insulting if he got the question, but came up blank. Schwetje was stubborn enough not to leave Doc be, though.
“This is your chance to get a little something off your chest.”
Doc finally looked up. “Are you asking me to speak frankly?”
“Yes.” Schwetje smiled as if there was a joke somewhere and looked at Casey Kasem. “Well.”
“Well, sir, it’s just that you’re incompetent, sir.”
The rest of team Three stood absolutely still. In the silence Q-tip’s voice rang with a _Big Lebowski_ quote.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Schwetje finally said.
“Sir, it’s not good enough.”
If Encino Man had been a better man he could have done something else than walk away, but he wasn’t. Baptista didn’t even care to wait for them to get out of earshot.
“Bom, Doc Bryan! Bom!”
Stinetorf smiled. It felt like a victory:
“Muy bom!”
Doc still frowned. “Fucking Portuguese lessons.” |
7272ac3712504d09a65654f7c715d996 | ['2a0d9c6129264742913ee996d55f38ee'] | -I know! We could go to that icecream shop you like. Or maybe the cinema. I heard there was a film out, it's supposed to be really good! And then we could-...
-Kiyo-chin, interrupts Murasakibara, suddenly deadly serious.
-What? Doesn't it sound nice?, inquires Kiyoshi, confused.
-I love you", confesses Murasakibara bluntly.
Kiyoshi opens his mouth, then closes it, and stares. He looks surprised, but his expression is blank, there is no way to predict his reaction. Murasakibara shrugs and takes a bit of his umaibo. He doesn't really expect anything back. But Himuro was right; he does feel relieved of an enormous weight.
But then Kiyoshi smiles sweetly.
"Me too, he says. I love you too."
Murasakibara grins widely and his face lightens up.
Maybe love isn't that bad.
\--
"How did it go?, wonders Himuro when Murasakibara comes back.
-Perfect~!, comments the other, grinning. Himuros' face softens.
-That's good", he notes, looking down. Murasakibara nods before going for a shower.
You were right, Atsushi, thinks Himuro, tears welling up. Love is bitter.
Don't expect life to be fair. Don't expect love to be either. | 696402de46a14a8e958b41c79b741f95 | ['2a0d9c6129264742913ee996d55f38ee'] |
Shopping Day
**Author's Note:**
> Originally written for the OTP Battle on Tumblr. Not Beta-ed, stupid and kinda fluffy (I tried)
Murasakibara was as unhappy as could be. He had just discovered that the T-shirt he had bought two months ago, was already too small. With a scold, he threw the now useless cloth on the floor. His parents were desperate; their youngest son just wouldn't stop growing. And that huge body of his required an enormous supply of food and clothes. For a while, Murasakibara had simply worn the clothes of his older brothers, who were also unusually tall for Japanese. But they quickly discovered that the youngster would be nothing like his older siblings. At the age of 16, he was already towering over everyone in his family, and fitting clothes became harder to find.
Annoyed, Murasakibara took one of his spare T-shirt and put it on. Looking back in his closet, he noticed it was his last one.
He definitly needed a change of clothes.
Annoyed as ever, the tall teen had been thrown out his aunts' house, where he was currently staying during the holidays. Both his aunt and mom had agreed on the fact that he should go buy clothes his size, on his own. Murasakibara sure wasn't happy about this decision, but his mother had given his extra money to buy some snacks. And now, there he was, lost in the middle of Tokyo, with way to many people surrounding him. He had even caught the glimps of a few camera flashes, and it didn't please him, to say the least. He didn't feel at ease with all those people staring at him, even if he was kind of used to the attention by now. However, the affluence of people kept him from moving freely, and it was starting to annoy him. If his hands hadn't been holding his bag of snacks, he would've probably crushed a few people by now, all those idiots gaping at him and staring so long, totally oblivious to the fact that he could actually hear them whisper about him. Murasakibara had been scolding so hard it wouldn't be a surprise if his face remained with that expression.
Out of the sea of people around him, he saw another head standing out, a fellow tall japanese man. Well, no matter how tall that person was tall, there was no way he came close to being Murasakibara's size. The head of the man turned around, and Murasakibara recognized Kiyoshi Teppei. The other spotted him, and smiled brightly, before heading in his direction. Murasakibara quickly looked around for a place to hide, but he had never been really good at hiding, for some unknown reasons.
-Murasakibara!, called out the older of the two, seemingly happy. Murasakibara turned away, like he hadn't heard anything. For a second, he thought the other had lost track of him, until a big hand on his shoulder made him jump.
-How you doing?, asked the warm voice, while Kiyoshi turned Murasakibara over, so he was facing him.
-Lalala, I hear the wind..., mumbled Murasakibara, looking around like he had no idea. Kiyoshi only chuckled.
-Down here!, called the brown-haired teen, raising his arm to flick Murasakibaras' forehead. The tallest furrowed his brows in annoyance, rubbing his now painful forehead.
-Don't flick me, he growled, I'll crush you.
-I think I heard that before, grinned Kiyoshi. Didn't work though.
Murasakibara eyes got darker with anger, and he was ready to turn around and leave, but Kiyoshi grabbed his arm.
-Alright, I'm sorry, that wasn't nice, he apologized. Murasakibara only glared at him from over his shoulder and shook his arm free, but didn't leave. Kiyoshi took it as an invitation to go on.
-Anyway, what are you doing here? That's pretty far away from Akita, he noted. Murasakibara sighed and turned around. Sooner or later, he would encounter Kiyoshi again anyway.
-Family leaves here, was all he provided. And I need clothes.
Kiyoshi nodded knowingly. He might not be as tall as the other, but he was still pretty tall for a japanese man, and finding clothes the right size was always a bit hard.
-Well, I was looking for clothes too, and I know just the shop that will have what you need!, he exclaimed. Althrough it wasn't a lie, it was mostly an excuse to spend some time with the other center. Murasakibara was like those spoiled annoying brats, and from who it was really hard to get any sympathy or liking. And Kiyoshi loved the challenge.
Murasakibara's interest picked up at those words. Maybe this way, he wouldn't have to spend all afternoon shopping. That was a girl thing.
-Ha? And where is it?, he inquired, most of the animosity in his voice gone.
-Well, follow me, proposed Kiyoshi, turning away. He began walking, feeling Murasakibara right behing him. The purple haired teen wasn't even standing at his full height, but he was still towering over him. It sent a chill of excitement down the oldest of the two. Murasakibara was definitly fascinating, just like every member of the Generation of Miracles, but something about him caught his eye like nobody had ever been able to before. He couldn't exactly pinpoint where that interest came from, that's why he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Murasakibara, to study him.
-Here we ar-..., he started, before noticing Murasakibara wasn't behind him anymore. Confused, he look around frantickly, before noticing the other in front of another shop, seemingly captivated by it's content. With a sigh of relief, Kiyoshi made his way over to the other boy. Once there, he glanced at the shop. It was a pastry shop, and suddenly, it all made sense. Murasakibara only obeyed his stomach anyway. Kiyoshi chuckled. Was it wrong to feel jealous of snacks? |
978eaad6347d45d0a260914f05d1c44a | ['2a16d48ef241422a8840b9e7a5701950'] |
Between you and me
**Author's Note:**
> For my best friend Ellia, happy birthday! I hope you'll enjoy this :DDD***
Pov. Thobbe
I am sitting at the bar drinking beer. I didn't want to get very drunk, because I wanted to have some fun tonight. While drinking my beer I turned around and scaned the bar, searching for guys I could fuck. Short hair, no, too slim, already with someone... What? I'm picky.
My eyes fell on a guy with long curly dark brown hair. He has big brown eyes, that made him look like a puppy. Sadly, he has no visible tattoos, but he was chubby, which was a huge turn on. He was alone, drinking. Perfect. That's it, I'm getting him tonight. My cock got hard from the thoughts of what I'll do to him tonight.
I finished my beer and went to him. He didn't notice me until I sat in a char in front of him. He looked at me with a questioning look, wanting to say something, but I cut him off.
"Look, I can buy you some alcohol and try get to know you and shit, but let's skip that part and go straight to the point. I want to fuck you. Are you up for it?"
He stared at my for a while, thinking a bit."Okay. Mines or yours?"
"Yours."
We got up and went to my car. I hopped into the drivers seat, and he went to passenger's. After giving me directions to his house I pulled up into the driveway. I found out that is name is Chris, he's 28, he works in a music shop. I didn't care about that, I'm only here to fuck him.
When we got to his house, he unlocked the door. Right after we got in I pushed him hard against the door and kissed him. He gasped, giving me access to push my tongue into his mouth and taste him. I could taste the alcohol on his tongue, that bittersweet taste. He moaned loudly, wrapping his arms around my back and pressing closer to me. My hands travelled down his back to his ass, squeezing it. He moaned again and started tugging on my leather jacket signaling to take it off.
"Let's go to your room." I said after breaking the kiss. He whimpered at the contact loss, but took my hand and led me to his room. His room was big, with red walls and vinyls hanging on the walls. In the middle of the room was a king sized bed, covered with black sheets. There were nightstands on both sides of the bed. There was a huge mess on the floor, but I ignored it.
He pushed me on the bed and got onto me, straddling my legs. He lowered his head and kissed me again while grinding our lower halves, the friction made both of us moan. We parted our lips and started taking off our clothes, helping each other. When we got rid of them he attacked my mouth again, this time travelling down my neck to my nipples. He circled his tongue around left one and sucked on it, making it harden, then moved to another. I was moaning lightly, feeling his tongue reach my crotch. He looked me in the eyes and licked along the shaft. Fuck, he looks so hot. It went straight down my dick, making it ache.
"Fuck." I whispered as he kissed my slit and took me between those beautiful lips. He started sucking me, everytime going deeper until my cock was fully in his mouth. "You look so beautiful between my legs with my dick down your throat. A place where you belong, whore." He purred, sending vibrations down my cock. I ran my hand through his hair, griped it tightly and started fucking his mouth. Like a good whore he is, he let me, pressing his lips tighter around my shaft.
"Fuck." I moaned. If I keep this up, I won't last long. I pulled out of his mouth and he whimpered from cock loss. "Soon, whore, you'll have my cock between your fat asscheeks." I spat on him as he got on his hands and knees, nuzzling his head near my croth.
"Please, master. Shove your cock in my ass, pound hard and fast into me, make me scream, cum down my throat. Please master, use me." He pleaded.
"I can't say no when a whore begs like that. Your wish is granted." I said as stroked his cheek. "Lay on your back and hold your legs pressed to your chest , ok, whore?"
"Yes, master." He said as he lied down. I opened the first drawer of the nightstand and found a bottle of lube. Perfect. I smeared it on my fingers and pushed two into his pink pucker. He eagerly pushed down on them wanting more. 'What an eager slut', I laughed quietly to myself, while putting now three fingers into his loosened anus. When he started moaning I knew I've found his prostate and teased him by rubbing his spot harder.
"Please, master. I'm ready for your big cock. Fuck me hard, master. Please!" He begged more. I pulled out my fingers and smeared some lube onto my dick. I jerked it few times, then pushed it into his pretty fat ass. I stilled for few seconds, letting him to get used to my dick and started moving.
Fuck, he was tight. He wrapped his legs around my waist, pressing me closer to his round belly. I held his thights as I pounded into him, probably leaving marks. We both couldn't stop moaning. I gripped his hair harshly, crushing our lips together. The kiss was wet and needy, sweat was dripping down our foreheads. We were both panting hard, he was screaming from pleasure, close to his orgasm. I wasn't far either, but I wanted him to finish first, so I wrapped my hand around his cock stroking him, not losing the rhythm.
"Master, I'm close! Yes! FUCK! MASTER!" He screamed as he came, leaving white stains on his chest. His twitching hole sent me closer and closer to orgasm.
"Open wide. I'm going to cum down your throat, just like you wanted." I said as I pulled out. He opened his mouth as I jerked off until I came, shooting into his mouth. "Fuck! Yeah, good whore." I said as I wiped my cock to his cheek and he swallowed my cum. I bent over and licked his load from his chest. Mmmm.. he tastes good. I kissed him, wanting him to taste himself.
"You were good." I said after we both regained our breath.
"So were you." He smiled and kissed my cheek.
"Will you be here in the morning?" He asked, as he cuddled with me and put his head in the crook of my neck.
"I promise." I said as I stroked his dark curls.
'Maybe it will be more than one night stand.' I thought as I slowly fell asleep. | ff677523adaa4dc2bc7fd79ac6d82833 | ['2a16d48ef241422a8840b9e7a5701950'] | Life Eternal
Varg's pov.
I was playing my guitar in my room when I heard the opening door. I stopped playing and tried to listen to the footsteps. They were slow and hardly heard. Probably drunk Dead again. He often runs away to the forest and gets drunk. I shrugged my shoulders and continued playing.
The footsteps were getting louder, he's climbing up the stairs. I heard a strange noise. A growl? What the fuck. Well, knowing Dead it doesn't surprise me anymore. You get used to his strange behaviour. For example burying clothes in the dirt, and then digging them up before our gigs. Who the fuck does that? Or carrying a dead crow with himself. Don't even try to understand him.
The growling didn't stop. Uhhh it's starting to piss me of. I put down my guitar and and fell on my bed, face down. My room's door opened and Dead walked in, still growling.
"Can you cut it out? It's pissing me off." I snarled at him, turning on my back. I looked at him and saw that he looked like a zombie. His skin was pale blue, black circles around the eyes, his clothes were torn. He was standing near my bed with his jaw opened. Well, he succeeded, he looks like a real zombie.
Dead just stared at me, but the growling didn't stop. I rolled my eyes at him, got up and went to him. I held his jaw and tried to close it, but it didn't move, it was hard as stone. He still didn't stop growling so I covered his mouth with my hand. He grabbed my hand that was covering his mouth and bit into my wrist, pulling my skin with his sharp teeth.
I moaned lightly, feeling sweet pain. Then yelped, as he tore off a piece of skin.
"What the fuck, Dead?" I screamed when he pushed me hard on the bed and climbed on top of me. I tried to push him away, but he was stronger than me. He gripped my arms tightly, held me down and the kissed me.
The kiss was strange. I mean, we've kissed before when we were drunk, but this time it's different. Now it's rougher, more animalistic, and very hot. I noticed the change of temperature, suddenly feeling hot and flushed. I kissed him back hungrily. He let go of my arms, his hands travelled to my chest, tearing my t-shirt off and scrathing my chest with his nails.
He pulled away from me and ripped off my jeans together with my underwear. I was completely naked. I lay on the bed watching him undress, in other words, tearing his clothes off.
Once he was naked he climbed on top of me and without warning pushed his dry cock into me, making me scream in pain.
"Dead, stop! You're hurting me!" I cried in pain as he started moving. I felt my ass tearing around his dick, coating it with my blood, making it easier for him to move.
He reached my shoulder and sank his teeth into it, taking a huge bite. I screamed in pain and tried to push him away, but there was no use, I'm too weak. I touched his cheek with my other hand, and noticed that there is no paint on his face. What the..? I saw blood on his neck. I pushed some of his blond hair only to expose a wound on his neck. He was missing a piece of skin and meat. And then it got to me. He's a real zombie. Dead is dead - I mentally chuckled at it.
I looked at my bitten shoulder. It's too late.
I stopped squirming and let him fuck me hard. It hurts, but somehow it feels good. I wrapped my legs around his waist pulling him closer to me, deepening the thrusts.
"Fuck." I moaned. I took my dick with my healthy hand and started jerking off.
Dead lowered his head and bit my neck. It is all I needed to orgasm. I came all over my chest. My ass started milking him , bringing him to his own orgasm. With a final growI he came, cumming inside of me.
My body went numb. I felt like I was on fire. Everything started to get blurry from the blood loss. I closed my eyes and waited for the death to take me.
To the life eternal. |
a654cfbd78bf49f1a76e793254bbcae2 | ['2a1a1ccac6884fe59e444064e78b8ff1'] | A pause happened as another painful tremor went through her body and forcing her to remember to breathe. Shouto moved closer, his eyes flickering unseen by her between a dark alleyway across the street and Yaomomo’s face.
His right hand squeezing reassuringly on her shoulder while his left side started heating up the air around them while also keeping the rain off with the umbrella, though it did nothing to stop her already soaking form from shivering.
“She was just informing their higher ups of my development. I- I thought they were just proud… but it turns out it was all for- all just for show. Their love for me- I’m… I’m sure it was all fake now.”
Her body was completely numb at this point, and the tear ducts had seemed to have frozen over.
Rain continued to beat down on them, and Shouto hugged her one armed to his chest as Yaomomo’s teeth started chattering, she sniffed and tried to force herself to think clearly as her brain muddled and froze. She wanted to vent more, she wanted to shout and scream about her problems and fears. She wanted all the lies her parents and family had fed her to be known by everyone- but the emotional breakdown and long exposure to the rain was starting to catch up with her.
“I’m…. related to the worst people… I can’t go back... not to that lie, I can’t….” Was all she managed to mumble out, her eyes getting droopier and body felt sluggish.
Shouto must have noticed it, and the sharp coldness of her skin- as he finally spoke again.
“We need to get you out of the rain.”
When she didn’t answer, he closed his umbrella and stood up, gently standing her with him. After they were standing on stable ground, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped her in it, he was just taller and broader then her that she could put her arms through it and wrap it around herself almost like a blanket. After wrapping her, Shouto picked Yaomomo delicately into his arms bridal style. And post making sure she was comfortable and secure, he started briskly walking to what Momo dimly hoped was his car and that he wasn’t going to walk her the entire way.
Momo listened to the sound of his footsteps splashing in puddles and tried hard not to let the tears start falling again. With no more talking happening, it meant that Yaomomo was alone with her thoughts, which meant the most horrid scene of her life kept replaying itself.
“ _Momo we need to talk to you._ ”. An easy, normal, yet anxiety inducing sentence that most parents say- but in Momo’s head it was like hearing someone start to read out a prison sentence. The rest of her father’s words had crashed and crushed down upon her like a falling rock as he explained in detail their strong family connections to the yakuza. The room had spun and denial came pouring out of her lungs. She had shaken her head so much it was still whirling inside, her parents attempted to better the situation, but all they said just made it worse. Their flat words were accompanied by a methodical ticking of their pride and joy grandfather clock, it’s ticking becoming a deafening noise before the argument started.
A weird click noise interrupted her disturbing thoughts, and Yaomomo forced herself back into the present. They had made it to Shouto’s sleek blue car, and he maneuvered her into a position where he could open the passenger door. She ducked her head as Shouto gently lowered her into the leather passenger seat, her drenched red dress squeezing out water as she put weight on it. Momo reached for the seatbelt, but her hands were to numb and shaky to even get more than a loose grip on the strap, and her strength was sapped so weakly that she could barely pull the belt an inch. Shouto’s warm left hand covered hers, and he helped her trembling and numb fingers with the seat belt, leaning slightly into the car to help push the buckle in.
As it clicked, Momo grasped Shouto’s hand, the warmth coming off him relieving some of the cold that was taking away her strength and she was able to give it an appreciative squeeze. She wanted to let him know just how much it did mean to her that he didn’t just leave her there crying. Momo raised her other arm and placed it on his right shoulder. He didn’t move, just looked at her in his usual piercing way with his mismatched eyes.
“Thank you.” Momo whispered, her voice still scratchy and eyes downcast from his. She didn’t want to look at him, she was thankful that he got her out of the rain, but the utter shame she was carrying for everything that he had seen of her in the past 20 minutes was too much for her at the moment.
She couldn’t even call herself a hero anymore after learning just what had to happen to get her there, and Shouto, who’s always been a shining example of what heroes should be and strive to do, deserved better.
Silence followed her thanks, and then Shouto squeezed her hand in return, a strong reassuring gesture accompanied by a kiss on her drenched black roots.
“I’d do it anytime.”
The cold in Momo’s cheeks got warmed as blood flowed to form a blush that spread to her neck. The sudden affectionate move had caught her off guard, but it was a welcomed warmth.
Shouto drew back out of the car and shut the door. Momo curled her legs beneath her and hugged his jacket around her like a safety blanket as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started driving. | 97bf79a42b764839a4e5fea788af3bd6 | ['2a1a1ccac6884fe59e444064e78b8ff1'] | “Yes. Being here at Hogwarts has made me realize how lacking I am in the subject, and I want to rectify that immediately. Midoriya mentioned you tutored the subject occasionally, so I thought I’d ask you.” Todoroki explained as the entrance hall slowly started clearing up. “Only if you can of course. I have to imagine you have a busy schedule so I won’t be offended if you have to decline.”
“Oh no! I’d be happy to help!” Momo said hurriedly, reaching into her school bag and pulling out her scheduling book and skimming over her day. “I have a class I have to get to now, but I’m free after lunch. We could meet then and decide a more constant time, if that works for you.”
Todoroki had no objections, and Momo waved good bye as she turned back to her friends, Midoriya raising his hand in greeting to Todoroki as Iida and Ochako left the hall. A thought entered Momo’s head however, and she stopped and turned back to Todoroki.
“Todoroki if I may ask, why did you ask me and not a teacher from your school to tutor you?”
Todoroki’s face was expressionless, but his eyes told Momo a lot as he looked into hers.
“I don’t trust anyone there to teach me.”
He nodded good-bye to a silent Momo and Midoriya, and turned and walked out of the great hall.
Leaving Momo to share a look with Midoriya, both wondering what went on behind that ships walls.
——
Izuku yawned as the other students shuffled into class, chatting spiritedly away with their fellow classmates as he rubbed at his eyes.
He was exhausted. He had started his serious research on what the golden egg could possibly be the night before and had come up with no leads to anything.
Ochako had offered to help, but he had politely declined, wanting to stand on his own two feet this time around. He felt guilty knowing about the dragons, and while Todoroki and Monoma knew as well, it didn’t stop him from feeling like he’d cheated. So he was determined to figure out just what the golden egg meant all on his own!
Someone tapped on his shoulder, and turning to his left he saw that Tsuyu had sat next to him. Ochako was next to her, leaning forward and talking to Kirishima.
To his right was empty, as was behind him. Those seats were saved for Iida and Yaoyorozu, who took Defense against the Dark Arts with Gryffindor this year.
Tsuyu was writing on the chalkboard she’d been given by Professor Ryūko, and Izuku waited patiently for her to finish, yawning into his hand.
The chalkboard was to help her communicate while going through the month long process of holding a mandrake leaf in her mouth, one of the many steps need to become an animagus, something Tsuyu had gotten permission to become this term.
Professor Ryūko was overseeing it, with the occasional input of Ryukyu, due to her being a registered animagus herself.
Tsuyu held up the board, and written in loopy letters was: “you need sleep, kero.”
Izuku grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as she started erasing the words.
“It’s that obvious?”
She nodded.
“I’ll try and get some sleep tonight, I just got caught up with the golden egg and didn’t notice the time till it was to late.” Izuku admitted, turning back to his desk. He left out the part about “to late” being the sun rising, as Iida had just entered the classroom and the last thing he needed right then was a lecture on taking care of himself.
Izuku smiled and waved at the two Ravenclaws, and Yaoyorozu waved back, taking the seat behind him as Iida sat next to him.
“I hope all your classes have gone smoothly!” Iida greeted, and Izuku nodded.
“They have!” Iida seemed to take the bait, and started talking about their homework due that day and didn’t continue questioning further.
Truth was, Izuku had slept through most of the morning classes.
And as Professor Might came bursting through the doors with a booming “good morning!”, Izuku lamented over the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep through this class to, both because of Iida, and the fact that he would never be able to bring himself to sleep through one of All Mights classes.
The class went by in a blurry haze, Izuku taking notes slower then usual, but soon All Might was calling the end of the lesson and he breathed an unintentional sigh of relief. That meant lunch, and he could sleep through lunch.
But then he blinked, noticing that class had ended ten minutes early. Confused, he looked at All Might, who avoided his gaze as he coughed awkwardly.
“Before you all head off to enjoy your lunch- I have an important announcement to make.”
The classroom fell silent, nervous attention on him with none of them sure what the announcement will be about. Even Izuku had no idea.
It didn’t help the uncertainty that the last two times he had something to say, they’d been incredibly important. Like how he would temporarily be leaving to help capture the killer Stain in their third year, and that he was being forced to leave in their fourth when parents grew concerned that his presence was bringing danger to their kids.
All Might cleared his throat, bringing a hand to straighten his tie before beginning.
“A-as all of you are aware, we are currently in the midst of a Triwizard Tournament,” He paused to collect his thoughts, and around Izuku some students relaxed, relieved that it was just tournament news.
“The first task is already behind us, and the second is approaching swiftly, but between them let us not forget the grand goal of the tournament in the first place! Does anyone here know what that goal is? Miss Yaoyorozu.” |
e1dd525db5704a8a8288cbc52deb029b | ['2a479b5d091641b0ab048459ebc8d3b7'] | It's pouring by the time Dan gets off of work, and he's drenched by the time he gets to his apartment. His shoes squeak as he walks towards the elevator, but there's someone already standing there. Phil's arms are crossed, but unlike Dan, he wasn't soaking wet because he actually remembered to take an umbrella when he left. Dan's still getting use to the London weather.
There's an awkward silence between them as the elevator goes up. Neither of them really do anything about it. It wasn't really till Dan heard the familiar ding of the lift that he finally decided to speak up, he didn't want Phil to think of him as the loud neighbor forever.
"So you like Sonic, right?", Dan blurts out.
He wants to slap himself in the face for being such a dork.
Phil looks back at him, a little confused at the sudden outburst. But unlike what Dan thought would happen, which was Phil ignoring him, he just smiled a little.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"I remember your sonic shirt."
He laughs, "Right. I got that as a gift."
Dan scoffs, "Sure."
"What about you?", Phil asks, digging in his pocket for his apartment key.
"Yeah, I love it."
"Are you any good?"
"I'm great at it."
Phil smirks, "Really?"
"I could probably beat you."
"Doubt it. I've spent way too much -"
Dan thinks that maybe Phil suddenly stopped talking because they were in front of their doors but he notices a guy awkwardly standing in front of Phil's apartment. The man looks a little unsure as he stands there, switching glances between himself and Phil.
"What are you doing here, Chris?", Phil asks, a certain coldness to his voice that Dan's never heard before.
Like Phil himself, Dan's frozen at the spot.
"I thought I'd come by and say hi.", the other guy says quietly.
"Why?"
The other physically tenses, his hands fisting by his side.
"Oh c'mon, Phil. We are best friends, I haven't talked to you in ages."
Phil's standing a lot closer to Dan than he remembered. He can see Phil's knuckles turning white from where he was holding his bag a little too tight.
"We were best friends, Chris. Go talk to Catherine if you really need some company, it's not like she's living with you."
Phil's the first one to move when he goes to unlock his door. Chris looks at Dan a little unsure, but turns back around to Phil, his voice quieter this time when he speaks.
"Cat and I have been having some problems. Phil, please...I've missed you."
Phil doesn't say anything but looks up at Dan, "We should play sonic sometimes, see if you can really beat me."
The two men are gone inside the apartment before Dan could say anything back.
That night, Dan can't help but think that Phil is a fucking hypocrite when it comes to making loud noises.
3. Chapter 3
Dan doesn't really hear back about the offer from Phil, it's not like he really thought that it was going to happen. But even so, Dan may have been a little colder to Phil than he would've been when he runs into him on the way to work. He's not sure if it's really because of the lack of invite or because of what happened those few nights ago when that Chris guy was over. He could hear them through his bedroom wall, and it wasn't until after an hour that he finally decided to move to the couch and sleep there instead.
He can't deny that Phil wasn't extremely good looking. He had a black fringe that slightly fell into his eyes whenever he talked, and although he was a little shorter than Dan, he had broader shoulders. And as cliche as it may sound, Phil had amazing blue eyes that kinda makes Dan want to stare at them whenever he sees Phil.
Luckily, he restrained himself this time.
"Hey.", Dan says when they step into the lift.
"Oh, hi.", Phil replies, a little lost in the conversation he was having on his phone. His thumb was running across his screen like he was writing a fucking book.
"Do you...um...want to maybe hang out tonight? Have a beer or something at my place?"
Phil looks up and it takes a lot of self control for Dan to not get completely lost in his eyes.
He's biting his lip, actually contemplating Dan's offer, but he drops the gaze, and something in Dan drops too.
"Um, don't think that's a good idea.", he says.
Phil walks out, without saying goodbye.
*
The entire day is torture. He sits there scanning the items while people shout at him as if it's his fault that they're not carrying the color coral blue number two. He's on the verge of a mental breakdown by the time his shift is over.
He see's the few guys he works with get into a car, laughing about some stupid customer. Something in Dan stings a little. He's never had any real friends, maybe the kind that would invite you to sit at the open spot at the lunch table, but he always came last when it came to picking partners in class.
Maybe that's why it hurt him a little, when Phil declined his offer for free beer.
When he gets close to the apartment, he notices a cop car is parked outside. As he gets closer, he sees that the cop is talking to Phil. He walks a little closer, expecting to get shooed away, but instead, Phil calls him over.
"This is Dan, the owner of the place."
The police looks at Dan, a sympathetic look on his face.
"W-What's going on?", Dan asks.
"Your house got broken in to." | 26056a10d1ab4f9ab35e191eb3de9ce8 | ['2a479b5d091641b0ab048459ebc8d3b7'] | I punch the wall of the bathroom. I can't bring myself to speak. I thought I had been talking, but it's all been in my head, and it's scaring me. It's as if me screaming, back at that house, used up all my vocal ability. Maybe I'll never be able to speak again. Maybe I broke something? I should go see a doctor, but what am I going to say? That I was screaming because I was about to get raped, again.
Quickly, I turn around, opening the drawer, and bring out something I haven't used in a while. I look down at my shaking hands, and take in a deep breathe. I push the metal into my skin, and slowly, painfully, drag it across. I let out a small whimper, but that's it.
I bring it back to my wrist, and do it again, and again...and again. I've forgotten this feeling, but's it's different this time. All of this pent up emotions, I finally get to do something about it. Sure, there was therapy, but it's not the same. It's just not. I don't get the same type of relief.
Before I can stop myself, the blade comes down again, not as deep, but just as painful. I gasp, but nothing else.
I look down at the blood on my arms, but it soon runs down my skin as my tears fall onto it. I throw the blade across from me, and pound my fist against the floor.
I'M SUCH A FUCK UP.
I pull my legs up against me, smudging the mess everywhere.
I stand up and walk over to the scale, slowly stepping on it.
105
I've gained back ten pounds. I haven't eaten that much, have I? I feel my chest growing heavy, and I stumble off of the scale, and into the shower. I quickly turn on the water, not caring if it was cold, or scorching hot. I just wanted all this blood off of me, all this fat, all of me. I wanted it off. I want to be in a different body, I want to not be here anymore.
I concentrate on the sound of the rushing water, and let it fill my head, blocking everything out. I can feel the vibration of my pounding heart, and that was it, the water, and my heart, that's all I paid attention to. I felt my breathing slowing, and the shaking finally went away. After standing in the stream of water for another few minutes, I got out.
I glance at the clock on the wall. 9:30? I've been in the shower for an hour? I look at my fingers, and sigh. I slip my clothes on, and leave the restroom.
I was by myself. Pete was at a party because I told him he should go to one. I mean, he did like them, I hated that he stopped going because of me, and besides, he's been stressed out....what with having me as a boyfriend and all. He was hesitant about leaving me alone at first, but went anyways.
That was about two hours ago, but I doubt he's coming back tonight. I sigh, and climb under the sheets. I probably wasn't going to fall asleep for a while, if at all, but there's was nothing else for me to do.
I slip my head phones on, because anything is better than just silence, and close my eyes, letting the world go fuzzy.
*
Pete's POV
I open my eyes, and blink several times, the lights from the window blinding me. I push myself up and rest on my elbows. Okay, I had a lot to drink, and I'm definitely feeling hung over. I look over, and I swear I've never moved faster.
Dallon was lying next to me, shirtless, and still asleep. I look down and see that I'm shirtless as well, actually, completely naked.
Oh my fucking god. I can't have done what I think I did.
I jump out of bed. Out of all the fucking people, why did it have to be him. I retrieve my jeans from off the floor, and slip them on in record time. I see my shirt on the desk, and I snatch it and run out of the room, pulling it onto me as I walk down the stairs.
I don't even remember who's party this was, or where I even am. My heads pounding, and I'm just trying to locate the door. I quickly run out of the house, thinking that maybe if I run fast enough, I can escape last night, but I know what I did, and I hate myself so much for it. I can't even remember anything about it. I remember drinking my second cup of beer, and that was it, everything after that was blury.
I get into my car, and I'm probably breaking the speed limit right now, but I have to get home. Well, it probably won't be 'home' anymore for me, once I tell Patrick what I did. He's going to break up with me, kick me out, and I don't think I can handle that.
If you can't handle that, why would you cheat on him in the first place, you fucking idiot!
I park the car, and rush up to the house, fumbling with the key that Patrick gave me. Just touching it was making my skin crawl. I swallow hard and open the door.
The house was quiet. I look at the clock on the wall and see that it's only five o'clock in the morning. I haden't taken a moment to stop and breathe since I woke up. I suddenly feel the tsunami waves of regret wash over me, and I crumble to the floor. |
8b11544aeb5b4e1c8d2f0235836a319c | ['2a561519b159462a83241d8a1c6f8196'] |
1. The Crossroads
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Solas is about to leave, for the second time. Will Istel's news change the path he thought he would take?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This may end up getting a little NSFW in later chapters, but for now I'll leave off the explicit warning.
It had been two years...
Two years since Corypheus had been defeated...
Two years since she had last seen him…
Those sad eyes staring at her from the decaying archway that was all that was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes…
And yet here he stood and it was as if no time had passed. Her breath caught in her throat as he explained his plan, how he was going to tear down the veil and restore Elvhenan, shook off her attempts to offer her aid. He stayed several paces away from her, as if the distance could prevent him from reigniting the flame that had once devoured them.
As if any distance could extinguish it.
She could tell he felt it as well but it wasn't until the mark on her arm flared and sparked in blinding pain that caused her to double over and collapse that he moved. He was at her side in an instant, catching her in his arms a second before she would have hit the ground.
She watched his concerned face and listened in surreal silence as he explained that the anchor was killing her and that he might be able to save her still, but he would need to work quickly. He leaned in towards her and kissed her, the touch of his lips to hers awakening emotions in her that she hadn't felt since before he had disappeared those two long years ago.
She had so much she needed to tell him, so much she didn't know how to begin to say. She was afraid to tell him, afraid of how he would react. She felt a twinge of pain, she was used to pain by now. The anchor was a constant source of throbbing pain now, it had gradually built over the last few years until she could almost no longer bear it.
Then, suddenly, there was nothing. No pain, and Solas was pulling away from her. Walking to the Eluvian... she looked to her hand, but there was nothing there. Her arm from just above the elbow down was gone! But there was no time to worry about that now, he was almost to the Eluvian! He would disappear and she would never have the chance to tell him again! He would leave and she would never see him again!
"Solas…" she choked the name out through her rising panic at the thought of losing him again, of never being able to tell him…
He must have heard the note of panic in her voice, he paused and turned halfway towards her, waiting for her to finish. To give her an opportunity to say one last thing to him.
"You… you're a…" the words seemed to stick in her throat, but they needed to be said. She cleared her throat.
"You are a father."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is a work in progress, hopefully I'll have the fourth chapter up by next week, I think the first three chapters are a little short and I may, as time goes on flesh them out a bit. This was my first time writing a fic where I didn't use every last line of canon dialogue, which was really nice. I have some other fics I'm working on at the moment as well, but I'm enjoying where this one is taking me. Let me know what you think, and if there is anything that needs adjustment. Since this is my first published fanfic, I greatly appreciate any feedback I can get.
2. Shock
He froze.
How insufficient those words seemed. She wished that she could have Ben able to tell him any other way. The seconds passed and still he stood motionless. She hardly dared to breathe in that time. She needed him to know that she wasn't lying. Wasn't telling him this in an attempt to make him stay. At last, after what seemed to be an eternity he started to turn back, hit was a slow deliberate motion and once he was fully facing her he said, "What did you say?"
His face was a mask, carefully crafted, blank, as if he waited for confirmation for his true emotions to break through. Her anxiety rose tenfold, and the words spilled from her mouth almost unbidden. "I didn't know until after we defeated Corypheus, until after you- well- everything happened so fast after the Temple. I never had time to rest. It wasn't until a month later I realized I had missed my course. Even then I wasn't sure, until I missed my second course. By then it seemed hopeless to find you, any tracks that might have existed were gone and I was in no state to travel to find you. No sane healer would have allowed it. I'm only telling you this because I thought you deserved to know. I don't expect you to come back- not if you don't want to- you need never meet her if that is your wish. Oh, but Solas! She's the most perfect-"
he cut across her words as he rushed to her side, the carefully crafted mask crumbling and a look of joy taking its place. "She?"
Istel raised a hand to caress his cheek. "She has your cheekbones and eye shape, but the color is violet like mine. Solas... she is your daughter through and through, she is the most curious child I have ever seen."
A warm smile grew across his face, "what is her name?"
"Atisha." | 4037d01376f14ad8ac5a5e2a539fed00 | ['2a561519b159462a83241d8a1c6f8196'] | He closed his eyes and murmured, "peace..." when his eyes opened again they were filled with sorrow, he looked at her, "Oh, Vhenan... ir abelas... I should have been there..."
The eyes she turned on him were soft, forgiving. She couldn't hate this man, she loved him too deeply, and he had given her the greatest gift she had ever received, even if he hadn't known it. "You couldn't have known. There is nothing to forgive."
"I should never have left you. You are my world. You should not be forgiving me"
"Ar lath ma, Solas. How can I do anything but forgive? Do you wish to meet her?"
His eyes brightened immediately. "More than anything."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Atisha- Peace
> Ir abelas- I'm Sorry
> Vhenan-Heart
> Ar lath ma- I love you
3. Decisions
His mind still hadn't registered fully the events that had transpired.
He had a daughter.
Istel was giving him warnings about the receptions he was likely to receive from her three companions on the other side of the Eluvian. They missed him, she explained. And they had gone more readily to anger than she had. Especially when she had revealed her pregnancy to them.
He hardly heard her.
He had a daughter.
The thought brought a smile to his face despite himself. He hardly noticed her pull from the fade, barley registered the spell she cast to create a new arm for herself. When she finished it was hardly noticeable to any but a mage. It matched her skin tone perfectly but seemed to glow ever so slightly. She flexed her fingers a few times to test her creation and then turned to him.
"We should go Solas, I have much to take care of in halamshiral before I can take you back to Skyhold to meet her."
That snapped his attention back to her, "have you decided what to do?" She shrugged. The gesture was so familiar to him, so unique to her. It brought a smile to his face.
"I think I will disband the Inquisition. We've accomplished everything we set out to do- more actually. I think I've known for a long time that this would be the outcome of the Exaulted Council. I just hope I can continue to live in skyhold." His brow furrowed.
"You do not wish to return to your clan?"
She laughed aloud at that. "With my face unmarked? I'd never be accepted back. I'm a flat-ear like you now. Besides, you know I have no love for my clan. It saddens me that I'll never get the opportunity to teach them all I now know, but if I'm being honest, they would never have listened. For all their talk of honoring traditions, they listen to little that might call into question what they believe. Maybe someday that will change, but for now all I can do is learn and teach my own children the truth. Maybe that will have to be enough."
With that she took his arm and they walked together through the Eluvian.
**Author's Note:**
> Eluvian- Elven mirror used for magical travel |
18199afa524b41a6b729461a2c07f287 | ['2a6f3d77edba4cf28e318d4f762d2ecf'] | Messi shifted his tearing eyes back to his raping wife. He didn't know what to say or why to say in the first place. It felt pointless even to try to apologise. He didn’t even cry. He kept gazing at Anto's furious eyes while she was spitting on his face time after time. He knew for sure that this is the end! The end of all the things he ever cared about in his life.. the end of their love.. thier relationship.. their marriage .. their parenthood and family.. the end of his only safe heaven from the world's judgment and criticism.. the end of the only place he could ever escape to when sadistic alpha males are all around him.. the end of the only thing that he would've fought for to get out of Shawn and Michael's control.. it's all over now!”
Leo was out of breath when he finally said while moaning “I know that .. aah.. aaah.. this doesn't do you any .. hmmaah .. any justice.. but I’m so sorry.. I’ve ... Aaaaaahhah ..screwed up like no husband ever did.. But I was forced to dooah….” while Antonella started smothering him while fucking him aggressively and shouted “shut up.. I don’t wanna hear anything out of your filthy lying mouth… there is no excuse for what you did!”
Messi started crying “I know that you .. aaah.. that .. hmm .. that you already hate me honey.. But I swear to God that I love you.. And I’ll.. aaahhh.. always do.. And I know that sorry wouldn't change anything.. But I am sorry.. ”
Shawn who was afraid that Antonella will end up listening to Leo, stood at his head and said “she clearly doesn’t wanna hear your apologies.. But you keep talking.. I’ll shut your mouth with your favorite way!” then he put his testicles over Messi’s forehead and whispered “now suck faggot! suck!”
Lionel kept looking at Anto through his tears and even though it was a very blurred vision, he was sure from her facial expressions that she still loves him. He looked back at Shawn dick and opened his lovely mouth and started sucking while feeling Michael's dick and Antonella’s dildo rubbing against each other inside his ass!
Shawn kept fucking Messi’s head and Antonella kept thrusting her dildo in his titanic booty muscles while shouting “do you know how much it hurts to realize whom you thought was perfect isn't even good? Do you have any idea how much I used to love you? How much I used to admire you? I’ve always believed that you’re so perfect that I don’t deserve you.. But now I know for sure that you deserve nothing but to be fucked and raped for death.. You sick FAGGOT!”
Messi listened to her.. But he got no chance to reply.. he got no chance to defend himself or explain anything because of the fact that his mouth was shut with Shawn’s cock! That's how the psychopath decided to stop him from telling the truth, by the same penis that started all this!
While swallowing Shawn’s semen and tearing in silence, Leo was thinking of Antonella in total misery “I can’t blame you for what you’re doing or whatever you’ll do.. I deserve it all.. And I know for sure that we’ll end up divorced.. All what I want for you honey.. Is to leave back to Argentina with my son.. Because those guys who you are trusting now.. Are much worse than me!”
Michael started moving fis cock and fucking Leo faster and faster while playing with his nibbles and Antonella’s nibbles while she kept smashing his testicles with her fist ruthlessly! The black guy whispered into the Argentinian ear "despite all what we did for you before.. you didn't see this coming when I told you that it's gonna be a special night .. you've to admit that we've impressed your milky ass .. didn't we?"
Messi was so destroyed to the point where he really didn't hear what Fe said. He just kept feeling the anal pain without screaming at all while thinking of himself “I’m a bitch and I can’t deny it,, I’ve big ass that I can’t get rid of.. And I’ve a hairless smooth body that I can’t change.. I seduce whoever looks at me naked.. that's a fact.. Even though I’ve discovered it at late age.. I can’t deny that my hormonal problems effeminate my body in a way that made me a perfect bottom gay bitch.. I’ve to stick with this forever .. but my family .. my family should get through this and get back to their normal life.. I'll be glad to live alone and serve men forever.. as long as Antonella and Thiago forget about me and live happily!”
While feeling Michael dick pumping fis seeds inside his hole Leo continued thinking “Me and Antonella should divorce.. She deserve a better man.. a real one.. somebody who can protect her! , Someone who doesn’t get fucked in the ass every single day!”
After that, the black guy pulled fis cock out of Messi’s ass and Shawn took his out of Leo’s mouth too. He wanted to make sure that the Argentinian couple doesn't get any chance to work things out. He took advantage of their exhaustion and inability to talk while they were catching thier breaths and picked his phone and activated the pumpers that he implemented in Antonella’s underwear! It started secreting a newly compounded drug out of both ends of the dildos inside Messi’s ass and Antonella’s pussy respectively!
What that drug does is not quite known, yet the pharmacist who created it claims that it works on inhibition of moral thinking and increasing the sexual desires and the tendency of violence and aggressiveness of who ever takes it. "Let's see the magic of that drug" Shawn said while winking for Michael and increasing the dose into thrice the recommended one! | 94e87729101845c999ddc3141c6cb194 | ['2a6f3d77edba4cf28e318d4f762d2ecf'] | > Hi .. some people asked if this events occurred to the bearded Lionel or the old cute one. Well you can imagine whatever you like while reading this, yet according to the timeline, it's the shaved cute Leo.
>
> You guys know the deal by now. The “Fe” Pronoun stand for He whoever is fucking Leo according to the current storyline. It refers to Eduardo in this chapter. Fis = His of Eduardo. Fim = Him of Eduardo.
It was around 9:15 p.m. when Michael ended his Skype video call with Gilberto Vitali who just told him that the judges were going easy on his case and that the legalization process of the contract paper which Messi signed few weeks ago was going very very well.
Michael couldn't be any happier as the biggest dream of his -so far miserable- life was slowly becoming a reality. That unmatched happiness was coming from the fact that legalizing such a contract paper means that he'll be a millionaire or maybe even a billionaire within a couple of years. He wouldn't have to buy and sell gay slaves nor BDSM tools anymore.. he wouldn't have to work as a kidnapper nor a rapist. He'll be a free man who womanize only the holes that he enjoys! That's why he forced Messi to sign this mysterious paper in the first place. He wasn't looking for humiliation back then, but he was talking an opportunity to make a much better life for himself and his family and friends.
As excited as Michael got. He remained totally secretive about all what senior Vitali was doing in the court. He couldn't wait to tell his best friend -Shawn- about his latest intelligent move yet he needed to make sure that everything is going to the right direction before doing so.
He looked through the window and kept praying "Lord! I know that with all my sins .. I don't deserve to ask you anything.. But if I got the chance to ask one last favor.. it will be to get the judges to agree to legalize that damn paper.. I know that this will hurt Messi a lot.. but I'll find a way to make it up for him later!! After getting the money that I need to do justice in this sick globe.. to eliminate those who forced me to be the psychopath that I'm right now.. I'll sacrifice one person for the benefit of the rest!" Then, he looked back at his laptop screen and pressed the shut down button and jumped to the shower to get cleaned and ready to go to Lionel's place and start applying Shawn big plan.
What's obvious in the black guy thinking process that he doesn't believe in guilt. He must've been hurt so much in the past that made him act by the rules of strength, where the powerful destroys the powerless. No morals.. no humanity.. nothing but gross raging revenge against the heartless world which transformed into the form of a huge cock digging in the innocent butthole of one of the most beloved people on earth, Lionel Andreas Messi!
In the shower, Michael kept looking at the water flowing over his dark skin and crossing his gigantic dick while thinking "I don't know why I'm feeingl nervous this time.. it's not like I've never raped a man in front of his wife.. it's just how weird it will be when Leo finds out that me and Shawn and Antonella are all against him.. I mean .. how long can he bear before going entirely into madness!? I need him to stay sane.. I need him for my dream business project .. I should not let Shawn sadism destroy the treasurer of Messi's ass .. we need his hole for more important things than just cumming inside it!"
Michael looked at himself in the mirror while leaving the bathtub and continued thinking "well .. to be realistic .. if I were in Leo's shoes .. I would've lost my mind a long time ago.. and the fact that he didn't yet, means that he probably wouldn't by one more psychological trauma.. he got a wierd mental flexibility.. he cries for a while whenever we push him to his limits.. then he gets used to whatever we're forcing him to do, no matter how unbearable it's.. I remember when we fucked him in front of Thiago.. I was 100% sure that he'll go in total insanity.. but he didn't.. he can hide whatever hurts him in an abundant area of his brain and never think about it again.. this skill is what caused him all this problems.. because if he collapsed, we wouldn't be interested in going further .. but as long as he's coping .. he's giving our sadistic instincts the right environment to thrive.. and that's well be the selling point of my project.. and tonight wouldn't be an exception .. we will do it in the most humiliating way and see how he reacts .. that's how it always be!"
At Leo's house, Antonella who was pretending to be sleeping, just received a message from Shawn telling her that he wanna see her at the swimming pool. She left her bed heading to the garden where he was waiting for her. She was wearing a cotton pajama without any underwears beneath. Both of the shapes and locations of her nipples and vagina were easily assessable by naked eyes. |
2b800407579a4e61ac3d70558534cb61 | ['2a8bb196bb3c48239b1473df4609c33b'] | Kira felt like the universe had frozen and time had ground to a screeching halt, which it probably had considering where they were. "But, you never said... you never wanted... you're _happy_ about this?"
"Of course I am," he looked at her as if she'd asked the silliest question since the dawn of time. "How could I ask it of you? But since it's happened..." His face fell, "I'm sorry, I didn't think, aren't you happy about it?"
"A baby," she whispered, trying the thought on for size. "A baby!" Joy blazed through her and she started to laugh, "I didn't realise; I thought it was just because I was getting older. I didn't know that you... " She placed her hand over his, squeezing gently. Then her face fell. "What are you planning to do with me?" she asked the Prophet, who had been standing there like an indifferent statue throughout.
"You must complete your task. The circle must be made complete," he repeated un-helpfully.
"They're a bit vague aren't they," said Macet, irritably.
"If you mean that I must have my child, then fine," said Kira, sharply. "I will complete my task. But, Akellan has to come with me," she jerked her head in Macet's direction to make sure the Prophet knew who she was talking about.
The Prophet looked faintly puzzled, "He has completed his task."
Kira tucked Macet's arms around her waist and pulled them tight. "He has _not_ completed his task," she said firmly. "A father's job does not end at conception, at least it shouldn't."
The Prophet looked from Kira to Macet and then back again. An odd shimmer passed through his eyes. "The circle must be complete, the hand must complete her task, the other is necessary," he said, as if it was a new and revolutionary thought.
"That's right," said Kira, nodding decisively.
"The circle will be made complete," said the Prophet with more assurance. The blue light around them started to intensify.
"Uh, Nerys, where are they sending us?" asked Macet, gripping her firmly around the middle, as if he was afraid she would be yanked away.
"I don't know, but at least we'll be together." She raised an arm and hooked it around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
The blue vanished, and so did they.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Credits
>
> Thanks to Memory Alpha and Memory Beta, if it wasn't in there I mostly made it up.
>
> Thanks to Rum and Monkey and DonJon who got me started with names.
>
> Thanks to whoever thought of putting Macet in the reluanch novels.
>
> Thanks to all who commented or KUDO'd, I was going to write this anyway, but it's nice to know someone is enjoying it. | ba9a377319cd4c6cb4627aac15736ab4 | ['2a8bb196bb3c48239b1473df4609c33b'] | "As you saw, the vandalism on Ziyal's work was fairly comprehensive; only a small number of works escaped entirely intact. The vandal, or vandals, used a variety of tools and substances including: a highly concentrated organic acid, a serrated blade and red paint. The acid we believe to be wood etching acid, commonly used by sculptors of the Tozhat Province on Bajor."
Gul Macet stirred and Kira half expected him to leap up and declare that he knew it; it was the Bajorans all along! It would have been so Cardassian, so Dukat, but he settled back into his seat as if he had just been looking for a comfortable position. The man constantly refused to play to the classic Gul script, it was actually annoying. Even more annoying, she realised, was that she was thinking about him rather than listening to what Ro was saying. She shoved these new thoughts in the direction of her "Macet" mental box and re-focused on her Security Chief. The Lieutenant, she noticed with approval, hadn't missed a beat, though her eyes had flickered to the Gul's face as she mentioned the acid; that quick glance caught Kira's attention, there was an air of innocence about Ro that Kira did not believe in. The Security Chief was up to something.
"The knife," Ro continued, "shed microscopic slivers of metal. It is a common carbon steel blend and we have been unable to determine the length or number of serrations conclusively, as it was used almost exclusively on canvas and paper. Finally, the paint is a type widely used for decorative metal surfaces; it was manufactured on Cardassia for domestic retail and exported before the Dominion war." Ro looked from her Commander to the Gul, waiting to see if they had any questions.
Kira nodded to herself, she was sure Ro had intentionally left the Cardassian source of the paint until last so that she could see Macet's reaction to the Bajoran acid. The test had failed in it's obvious intent; Gul Macet was either interested in the truth, (rather than placing the blame on the most politically expedient target), or smart enough to act like he was. Of course, the source of materials and tools might be no surprise to him if he'd ordered the vandalism himself. Kira expected her Chief of Security to look into the Gul's movements as much as anyone else's; Ro would be extremely derelict in her duty to take anyone's word at face value, even if they did seem genuinely helpful. However, Kira didn't expect her to find anything; Macet's behaviour had been uniformly consistent with his stated intentions. He'd been invaluable during the Europa Nova evacuation and the riot at Quark's a few days before. He'd persistently been reasonable, helpful and useful. There was something very solid about the man, not a sign of his cousin's erratic megalomania. She'd been right to cancel the surveillance she'd had on him.
Ro must have nudged one of her mugs with her elbow because there was a faint "chink" that broke Kira's train of thought and she realised she'd lost track of the conversation again. She cursed the spring wine she'd drunk; she had to rack her memory for the last time she had been this distracted and realised it was probably when Dukat had told her about his relationship with her mother.
Fortunately, it didn't seem that she'd missed much. Gul Macet was frowning at the pad in his hand, absently tapping the edge with one finger and Ro was looking at her screen as she talked.
"... As for other evidence, there is a strange energy signature in the room, some type of low level Baryon radiation with a very fast decay rate. But most puzzling," she continued, turning from her screen to look at them both, "The room was completely devoid of all DNA."
Both Kira and Macet lowered their pads in sync. "No DNA at all?" asked Kira, incredulously.
Ro nodded, "None."
"But, that's ridiculous! The workers setting up the exhibit," Kira waved a hand to encompass the sheer size of the problem, "not to mention the fact it was a shop before that. I can't imagine anyone would have cleaned it so thoroughly that there wasn't a scrap of DNA anywhere."
Macet looked as if inspiration had fallen on him from above, "It might not be that ridiculous."
Both Kira and Ro stared at him. "What do you mean?" Kira asked.
"There was a piece of Dominion Technology for covert operations. It used a modified form of Baryon radiation to destroy all DNA inside a force field bubble. It was quite a small unit; a bubble big enough to encompass the whole of Ziyal's exhibit would be stretching it's capabilities, but it would be possible." He waved a finger in an "abracadabra" gesture and looked pleased with himself.
Kira's fury was almost overwhelming. How could Macet, or rather the Cardassian delegation, fail to disclose such an important piece of technology? So much for his being solid, reliable and trustworthy. "I appreciate your honesty," she said through gritted teeth. "When was Cardassia planning to reveal this technology to Bajor, or to the Federation for that matter?"
Macet looked taken aback. "It was included in the summary of technological assets currently available to Cardassia that was sent to your government at the beginning of the negotiations. I know because I'd only heard rumours about it before; it stuck in my memory." |
d719a00904bc453b899a4142cde7e73d | ['2a9c487b2b7b4cd5ab21109533ba3aaa'] | Through facebook, she also got to put other faces to names. Jo started a small group chat with some of the other players going to the hunter game to have a slight chance at building a group that sort of knew each other. Charlie found she liked most of them thought Sam and Dean seemed to be constantly getting each other off track. Adam normally only seemed to communicate with memes. Castiel was the assistant Storyteller for the game and seemed to be trying to keep Dean from getting too out there. Charlie was falling in love with Jo’s friends too.
The only thing Charlie couldn’t seem to ask was whether Jo felt the same way about how they were getting along. They were talking all the time now. Once facebook had been exchanged then Instagram and twitter followed. Charlie wondered if she had a Tumblr but was afraid to ask, her Tumblr was overflowing with personal posts gushing about how much she liked Jo, it seemed a bad plan to open that door right now.
So when are we meeting tomorrow? Charlie texted Jo.
Want to catch coffee tomorrow before game? I want to see if the Unicorn thing is as bad as everyone says. Jo responded.
It’s a date. Charlie had responded without thinking.
Hope that means you’re paying ;) Jo had texted back.
Charlie had to lay on the bed and remember how to breathe.
Charlie totally hadn’t driven herself crazy with what to wear to meet Jo for the first time. She wasn’t sure if it was a date-date or just a ‘gals being pals’ event. That would have been insane to hyper stress about what to wear. She had stuffed her character clothes in her bag and showed up fifteen minutes early to the coffee shop and tried to calm her breathing.
When Jo walked in with a t-shirt of Captain America’s shield colored in the bisexual flag Charlie was sure she’d died and gone to heaven.
“Cute shirt.” Charlie has said waving Jo over.
“thanks. I only save it for first dates with cute girls.” Jo had grinned. | a0684620dcbb42da82579bd69437636e | ['2a9c487b2b7b4cd5ab21109533ba3aaa'] |
This is new
**Author's Note:**
> So the reader is trans because I guess it’s just easier for me to write what I know. This has been edited and sort of beta read but not perfect. This is the first fanfic I’ve written since 2009 and first Supernatural fic ever.
There was a creak that your brain told you was either Sam or Dean’s bed next door but you ignored it. They were sleeping in the room next to yours at this cheap crappy hotel. The walls couldn’t be that thin. But something had interrupted your dream. Not that you had really wanted to continue it. This had to be a dream brought on by stress. Stress could make you have weird dreams, you reasoned to yourself. It was the worst kind of dream at the worst possible time. It wasn’t meant to be like this. You weren’t meant to think of him like that. You laid staring up at the ceiling, tried to keep your breathing even as you tried not to think of the dream you’d just had. Tried not to think of his hand in your hair as he kissed you. Not to recall the way the dream version had looked at you in a way the real him never would. Not that you ever wanted him to.
“Crap.” Your voice sounded loud in the empty hotel room.
Maybe it was just because of the dry couple months. A few long jobs back to back. You really hated werewolves and the fact this string of them were interrupting your sex life? Worse. You were driven. Motivated. Sex deprived. You weren’t giving yourself a moment to breathe. This last job was just the nail in the coffin. Working with the Winchesters had just complicated matters. Working with the Winchesters was how hunters ended up dead, everyone knew that. They were trouble magnets. They brought demons, gods, and monsters way above your paygrade to the table. Why get some poor bystander in the way of a stray death just for an orgasm? Why did you keep coming back for more life and death experiences?
Oh, you knew why.
It made things dangerous in a life that was already exciting. You should have gone to a bar and snagged someone. But it was so much effort to even get there. Random hook ups were easy for other people. For you, it sometimes felt like you had to give a college course about gender and sexuality before even getting your pants off. You’d been too tired and it had been sort of difficult to separate politely from the post-hunt conversation. It wasn’t like they’d given you crap if you’d said you wanted to ditch to get laid. You just hadn’t wanted to mention anything that might have made them uncomfortable.
And this dream was something that would ruin that. It was a dream. A stupid dream. You weren’t interested in Sam. Not really. Sam wasn’t your type. Was he? Had his goofy smile and warm eyes wormed themselves into you? That was unexpected and likely brought on by stress. Dean? Oh, Dean had been more your type. Did you think about Dean, though? Not really. You’d been attracted to people like Dean since you were in middle school. But he wasn’t on your mind right now. You were always very good about not thinking about Dean because he was your friend. You didn’t think sex thoughts about friends, not recently anyways. So had your mind just gotten fed up with you? You never had sex dreams about real people, mostly anyway. It didn’t make sense. It was sort of dangerous in general, lusting after real people, lusting after your friend was worse.
You rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was six in the morning. You didn’t need to be up yet. You could sleep another couple hours. You wanted to sleep; you were too tired to deal with Sam Winchester sex dreams rationally. The urge was there, though. The dream had ended before things had gotten good, your body ached for release, your brain wanted to finish what it had started. You could go to the shower, work on the problem then you were up for the day. If you handled here, in bed you could roll over and sleep a few more hours.
You rolled back on the bed and closed your eyes.
Dream Sam had touched your face gently before kissing you; you could picture that perfectly in your mind. You traced your thumb over your lip and down your cheek as you thought of what Sam’s lips might actually feel like. Rough, demanding. Sam seems the kind of guy who liked to be in control. You pictured Sam grabbing your hair and kissing your neck. You moved your hand softly down your neck, your chest and into your boxers.
You could picture Sam kissing down your neck as his hand moved down. Sam wouldn’t care that you were trans. He wouldn’t care as he slipped his hand in your boxers and found it wet. You wouldn’t need to have an awkward conversation about what was and wasn’t okay, how dysphoric certain things made you feel. He’d rub you through your boxers as he whispered how much he wanted to give you a blowjob. He’d be dirty, descriptive and you felt your breath catch at the thought. You squeezed your eyes shut as the heat spread through your body. You were close, so freaking close.
_“[Y/N], come for me. I want to hear you.”_
You increased your own speed imagining it was his hand.
_“Come for me.”_
You didn’t climax with sound often but god, you let out a moan with his name mixed into it this time. You coaxed a second orgasm out of yourself with the thought of the self-satisfied smirk Sam Winchester would have to hear you say his name while he jerked you off. When you were done, your whole body felt tired again. You were exhausted, sticky, wet and that shower sounded like an amazing idea but you rolled over to go back to sleep hoping the walls between your room and the Winchester room were not thin as you drifted back to sleep. |
968db456f7c34123844feb075062fd6d | ['2aa68c38830d483f83554d43660029fa'] | _When they pulled back, the dark look in Haru’s eyes had somewhat softened. Rin could tell that Haruka had changed since their relationship in high school. Looking into Rin’s eyes, Haruka’s darker look came back, he swore again, “I really hate you, Rin.”_
_“It’s mutual,” Rin challenged. Haruka was the one who had left him for Makoto after all, for a relationship._
“I love you, Haru,” Rin smiled at him.
Haruka flushed red, he really enjoyed hearing Rin say it, he wanted Rin to say it again and again, “I love you too, Rin.”
And Rin’s cheeks’ color matched Haruka’s. He hadn’t expected to feel so warm from hearing words like those. When Haruka said them to him back when they were in high school, he didn’t believe Haruka. He couldn’t believe Haruka. Love only exists in the movies, or so he used to think. And yet, here he was with Haruka, and it was love. This is love. This is warmth, this is everything I want, Rin felt tears in his eyes appear, which caused alarm to appear on Haruka’s face, “Haruka, I...I’m so happy.”
And Haruka smiled, kissing the tears off of Rin, “M-me too.”
Rin felt himself harden because Haruka’s soft lips were touching him, his voice deepened again, “Haruka, I...”
“Shhh,” Haruka shushed him, “we can take as long as we want.”
Somehow though, the idea of that made Rin even harder, and Haruka noticed this as he put his hands on Rin’s legs and Rin breathed deeply.
_Haruka’s hands slid down Rin’s swimsuit, and revealed him to be very hard. Haruka’s mouth dropped a bit. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes on Rin’s manhood, but he remembered every curve of the Rin’s body. He leaned into Rin’s neck, but instead of biting again, he licked Rin’s neck and kissed down Rin’s chest and stomach. He wanted to taste Rin’s sweet skin. Rin put his hand on Haruka’s head and leaned his own head against the locker behind him. He moaned softly, “Haru…”_
_Rin wanted more. He enjoyed having Haruka play with him and lick him, but he wanted to feel Haruka inside of him. He wanted to feel Haruka inside of him now._
_“Rin,” Haruka said, into Rin’s stomach as he slid down, but before he reached Rin’s dick, “I really fucking hate you,” and then, he slid his mouth onto Rin’s dick and deepthroated the redhead._
_Rin moaned, “I know - A-ah!”_
_“Seriously,” Haruka came up for air, “I hate you so much, I wish you never existed, but I can’t fucking stop.”_
Haruka pulled back from Rin’s cheeks, and then kissed Rin’s lips. Rin deepened the kiss. His mind was blank, nothing else seemed to matter, he focused on the kiss, but he could feel himself melting away. Haruka pulled back, and the look in his eyes had changed. Haruka, who had been soft and gentle all night’s eyes had darkened, “Rin, I want you.”
Rin nodded, “I’m yours.”
And so, Haruka began peeling off Rin’s clothes, “Lay down.”
Rin obeyed and leaned against the couch with his ass in the air. Haruka stared at it for a minute, admiring it, “You still look in-fucking-credible.”
“Same goes to you,” Rin turned his neck to smirk at Haruka.
Haruka smiled and slid his pants and boxers down. The fact Haruka was wearing boxers, made Rin laugh internally, but when Haruka revealed his dick to Rin, Rin’s mouth gaped.
Haruka smirked, “There’s a nice expression, Rin.”
Rin flushed, while Haruka leaned over and kissed the redhead’s back. Rin relaxed. Haruka pulled the lube out of his pants pocket on the ground.
He bought that today before coming here? Rin thought.
Haruka knew what he was thinking and nodded, “I would have fucked you either way, Rin. No matter what you said. I needed to do you again.”
Rin flushed.
“But, this way, is better, isn’t it?”
Rin agreed. This way was much better. He felt so damn warm inside. He could still hear Haruka saying that he loved Rin again and again in his head and it was nice.
_Rin’s mouth opened wide and he closed his eyes, he could barely focus on the words Haruka was saying, because Haruka’s hands were moving around his hips and his tongue was, his tongue was - “Ah! Haruka, please!”_
_Haruka pulled back, “Don’t enjoy this, Rin, I’m serious.”_
_But, Haruka was hard too, and he wanted it. He wanted Rin bad. He pulled his swimsuit down and revealed that he was hard. Harder than he had been in a long time. Not that that made him happy._
_Rin continued to moan and beg, and finally, Haruka gave it to him._
_Rin turned around and leaned against his locker. Haruka prepared him, using lube from Rin’s locker, and when he was ready, Haruka slid in, “Oh, fuck, Rin.”_
_Rin moaned, “Haruka - Haruka so, so, big….ah!”_
_“Rin, I-I wanted this a long time,” Haruka found himself admitting. He didn’t feel the guilt now. For the moment, this was an escape from that._
_“M-me too, Haruka. No one else in the whole world is like you, you’re ah, you’re fucking incredible,” Rin meant it too._ | 114ad5c78799442fbb48e9153ffb894e | ['2aa68c38830d483f83554d43660029fa'] | Nitori didn’t move. He was un-cuffed, and he was leaning against the headboard with Rin. Haruka’s eyes fell on the cuffs and on his vibrator, then they went back to Nitori. Nitori gave him a smirk, yeah, Haruka, I did.
Then, Rin turned and spoke to Haru, “You see, I was thinking, I was like, I like swimming and that's all fucked up. What else do I like that would hurt you as much as you hurt me today? And then I was like I like fucking and Haru hates when I fuck other people. But, you know what else I realized? That wasn't mean enough. I fuck other people all the time.
“So I was like, how can I fuck Haru's day as much as he fucked up mine? And then, I knew! All I had to do was call up, ’Tori. But, after I was balls deep, I realized this wasn't fair. Swimming was our hobby, we did it together. But, we can't fuck ’Tori together. Well, we can, but I already did,” Rin laughed, but then he continued, he decided to go with what Nitori had said before, “Then it hit me, you could fuck him too. I asked him if he'd mind. He said no. So, go ahead Haru, fuck ’Tori, I don't fucking care. I don't care about anything.”
“It wasn't like today was particularly good for me either,” Haru said. His expression was empty.
Drunk, high, whatever Rin was, was bad enough, but Haruka did not want to do this in front of Nitori, “Please get out.”
Nitori rolled his eyes, but got up off the bed and started to walk away, “Your boyfriend's so boring. I don't know why you let him be by you so long.”
“S'not my boyfriend. I don't have boyfriends. You know that, ’Tori.”
Haru eyed Rin thoughtfully. Nitori laughed and shut the door behind him, leaving Haru's apartment, Nitori had obviously been on something too, but it was nothing compared to the level that Rin was at right then.
“What's with that fucking look, Haru? Are you sad cause I broke our rules? Does it hurt? Cause it's nothing compared to what you did to me today.”
Haru furrowed a brow, “Let's just put you to bed, okay?”
“Nothing?! Are you fucking kidding me? I fucked Nitori, who you hate, who you specifically asked me to never fuck, in your bed, and nothing?!” Rin snorted, “you really don't give a single shit about me, do you?”
Haru ignored Rin's attempts to incite an argument and instead asked, “Rin, did you ever love me? Ever?”
Rin rolled his eyes, “No such thing, Haru.”
Haru knew Rin would reply with that, but it made him even sadder than it used to. A different type of sadder, because for once, when Rin said it, Haruka honestly believed Rin felt that way. Rin continued, “It's something people tell themselves because we're all alone in the end. The only way to be connected is to fuck someone, so c'mere and fuck me.”
“Not gonna fuck you, it's time for bed,” and Haru tucked Rin in to his bed. He'd deal with the breaking up when Rin was sober enough to remember it.
Rin’s buzz wore off and he sobbed a bit as he came down from the high, and Haru ran his fingers through Rin's hair. Then, Rin passed out.
XXX
Rin was awake. It was the following day. He opened his eyes to see Haruka sitting in front of him with breakfast.
“Wow, breakfast in bed. I thought you'd get pissed at me over what happened with Nitori. That or you'd go on and on about my partying,” Rin was surprised.
Haru said nothing.
“Ah, so you are mad. Go ahead, lecture me,” Rin nibbled on the eggs.
“We need to talk.”
Rin rolled his eyes, “Didn't we do enough of that yesterday, when you told me that I needed to quit the team and get my shit together?”
“We need to break up, Rin.”
Rin started to drop his fork, but quickly recovered it, “You can't break up with someone you're not in a relationship with. We can stop fucking if that's what you want. I've told you since the high school, Haru, we could stop anytime you wanted. We have in the past,” he was referring to when Haruka had been with Makoto in Europe.
“It's more than that,” Haru was firm, “we need to be out of each other's lives.”
“Are you that mad that I started using again? And that I fucked Nitori here?” Wasn’t this only a game? Rin wondered. And as a result, Rin couldn’t help, but feel a bit of pleasure. He was really upset about what Haruka had done, and it seemed like he had truly been able to get even. Still, he didn’t want to be thrown out. He just wanted Haruka to feel the same pain he had.
Haru sat on the bed, “No.”
“Then, what?”
“You and I, we, don't work.”
“You're just figuring that out? Aren't you the one who always wanted more than just whatever this is?”
Haru didn't answer, instead he blurted, “How could you not tell me about your Mom?! In all these fucking years?”
Rin made a puzzled expression, trying to determine how Haru figured it out. Finally, he realized, “Nagisa can't hold his alcohol worth a shit, can he?” Seeing Haru's expression though, he added, “S'not like it matters anymore.”
Haru didn't smile or smirk or anything, “Oh, but it does.”
Rin raised a brow.
“I always thought someday we'd stop fucking with each other and just be happy. Rin, this rivalry, it was bullshit. These games they’re all just in your head. I've loved you since the minute I met you, but you-”
“Love doesn't exist, Haru.” |
7338fdb2ad844b9aba4890e498e7713d | ['2af2d523b75e4d1f8a1b269316eff5d8'] | “Sorry, Flowey.” You yawned. “I’m sleepy. Let’s talk tomorrow okay..?” You said groggily, while sighing in satisfaction at the softness of the bed. You were awfully tired after all the walking and bickering between you and the flower.
You heard angry loud muffles below you and realized that you were lying on top of Flowey. “Ah sorry…You can do whatever to me tomorrow..I...So...Sleepy...” You said in slurred words.
Flowey glared, ready to yell at you until he heard your snores. He huffed in annoyance but stopped as he looked to his sides. Realizing that both your arms were currently holding him against you. He closed his eyes and sighed, using his vines to bring the blanket on the bed to cover both of you two.
Flowey's gaze softened as he looked at you.
“Mine.” Flowey said in a quiet yet stern voice, before joining you and your slumber. His vines curled around your form possessively as he unconsciously scooted towards the warmth of your smiling face.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I love you all :)
4. AgainAgainAgain
Flowey awoke to your sleeping face. You were still fast asleep with the same content smile you had worn last night. Flowey had wanted to wake you up to continue on towards the path of the two of you, but he only stood there watching your calm face. Besides, your body warmth and presence comforted him. Not that he would ever admit.
It wasn’t fair that you were pretty. Absolutely not fair at all. He couldn’t stop staring at you, eagerly watching your face as you began to contort your face in a series of mixed emotions.
‘I wonder what she’s dreaming about...’ He wondered.
All your expressions were adorable to him, but he thought your fearful expression was the cutest one of them all. It made him feel...strange. Seeing your facial expressions as you you let out a soft sigh.
He wondered what other type of expressions you could make…
He blushed. “God, what in the fuck is wrong with me?!”
You quickly opened your eyes and gasped, startled by the voice waking you up. Your eyes meeting the small yellow flower in front of you.
Flowey yelped, quickly reverting his vines off of you, hoping you didn’t notice them wrapped around you.
“Hm? Oh, good morning Flowey.” You said cheerfully, giving the flower a warm smile.
Thank god you didn’t notice...
Blushing, the flower told you to shut the fuck up and you rolled your eyes in response. Typical.
You picked the flower up as you tried to get out of the bed.
“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing picking me up without my permission?!” Flowey yelped in an attempt to look angry.
You looked down at the red flower and rose an eyebro. “Oh, you don’t want me to hold you? Okay-”
Flowey’s eyes widened in alarm as he felt you try to slowly place him down.
“NO!” He blurted out loud, only to stutter when he glanced at your confused expression.
‘Ugh.’ He thought, continuing to blush. ‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me, (Y/N)…’
“What?” You asked, still confused.
Flowey turned away, not wanting you to see his reddened expression. He shyly wrapped some of his small vines on your arm, preventing you from letting him go any further. “J-just ask for my permission to pick me up or drop me next time-! You.. You shit-stick!!"
You only hummed in response, unaware of the troubling feelings the flower felt as you obliged to his commands.
“I’m going to go to the kitchen by the way. I’m pretty hungry.” You said nonchalantly as you headed towards the door.
You were met with no response but continued to walk towards the kitchen anyway.
Since the house was pretty dusty, you weren’t sure if the house had food or not. Or had any food that wasn’t expired.
You realized how blessed you were as soon as you spotted a very large chocolate bar in the fridge.
“Hey, would you look at that, there’s chocolate!” You smiled happily taking a bite.
You looked at Flowey and smiled. “Want some?” You asked chewing between large mouthfuls.
Flowey grimaced, disgusted by your manners. You brushed it off, thinking he was only concerned about the chocolate’s expiration date.
“Aw, don’t worry,” You smiled. “Chocolate’s doesn’t go bad if it’s kept in the fridge- and hey, it came from the fridge! Right? Right?” You coaxed him, attempting to persuade him even further as you wiggled your eyebrows.
“Feed into the temptation of chocolate, Flowey...” You said in a spooky manner as you slowly moved the candy bar into Flowey’s mouth.
Flowey eyes widened in realization that you were about to place the bitten chocolate bar in his mouth. The chocolate that just touched your mouth, your lips…
He tried to steer away from the chocolate bar’s direction, only to fail as you kept your grip on the flower. “Uh, I-I don’t want to eat that disgusting piece of shit you-you stupid- Mmph-!!” Flowey stuttered. But it was too late, the sinful chocolate was already in his mouth. He froze in shock.
“Ha ha!” You laughed as the flower was silent. His mouth was literally full of the chocolate bar you had violently shoved inside his mouth. “That’s a sign that you likeee it~!” You grinned.
You almost yelped as Flowey gave you a chilling death glare, removing the chocolate from his mouth and shoving it back into yours in one swift movement.
“Hey!” You gasped in an incredulously, removing the chocolate off your mouth and chewing.
Flowey chewed the piece of chocolate that he had bit off earlier. The piece that had once been in your mouth, and now… Now the chocolate bar that had been in his mouth was placed in yours…
Flowey stopped chewing, his blush that only seemed to impossibly redden even further. He turned away from you yet again. | 499260e6dcd442c69b2bda183c83f74a | ['2af2d523b75e4d1f8a1b269316eff5d8'] | They picked up the white rabbit they had previously pushed away and was now hugging it tightly to themselves, as they sobbed.
Red was starting to stain its white fur.
After picking up some donuts at a local coffee shop, Joe insisted on walking you to your place, but you politely declines. No way in hell were you going to let him discover Chara there. Who knows what might happen.
You reached the steps to your door and brought out your keys, sliding them into your door handle as you balanced having your bag of donuts held on by your left arm. As you opened the door, you wondered if Chara would like them, after all they were chocolate filled and covered.
You sneakily walked into your apartment, bag in your hand since you wanted to surprise Chara.
“Hey Chara,” you called out as you began to enter your room, “I got you do-...nuts…”
Your room was a mess, well the floor for the most part at least. Your toys were scattered everywhere.
Oh man, where were they?
You looked to your right and saw that your closet door was slightly open.
You opened the closet door slowly to reveal Chara, their knees up to their chest as they clumsily tried to fix your transformers action figure that was broken into bits.
You wondered why your Optimus Prime figure was smeared with red paint until you realized that it wasn’t paint- it was blood.
Your eyes followed the blood, landing on Chara’s hands.
Immediately you knelt down in front of Chara, “Oh my god, Chara? What the hell happened?” you asked as you cautiously tried to grab one of their hands.
Chara let you, not making any more movements or pathetic attempts at fixing your broken action figure.
“...I’m sorry. I broke it,” they quietly sad.
You checked their hands and fingers for serious injuries but thankfully there weren’t any. Just minor cuts from the impacted pressure on their skin.
“Well, that’s okay. Accidents happen all the time, at least you didn’t break something super expensive like Joe did. Which he did many, many times,” you said lightly chuckling in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It wasn’t working since Chara continued to look away from you in silence. Oh yeah, they didn't know who Joe was.
You frowned, it seemed they didn’t want to talk about what happened, so you decided to ask them questions later instead.
“Come on, let’s get your wounds cleaned up.”
You gently wiped the blood from their hands with disinfectant, afterward, you wrapped their hands with some bandages. Thank god you had a spare first aid kit in your apartment.
You set down the materials on the table, Chara was sitting down on the chair in front of you, quietly looking at their lap in silence. It was as if they were waiting for the worst.
Instead, you turned around and rummaged through your bag, “Well, since you were such a good patient, here’s your reward.”
You plopped the bag of donuts on top of the table, one of them rolling out of the bag in front of Chara.
“Whoops,” you said, smiling sheepishly.
Chara stared at the donut, their brows furrowing in confusion.
“What?” they said.
“Ah, don’t worry I’ll eat that donut if you don’t want it.” You reached forward to grab the fallen donut only to have your wrist suddenly gripped by Chara.
“Oh, okay then you can have it then,” you said.
You tried to slide your hand out of their grip only to have it be held on tighter.
“No,” they said.
“I still don’t get it, I broke your toys.”
You shrugged, “I told you it was fine, accidents happen-”
“NO!” they yelled, the pressure on your wrist hurt.
Your eyes widened and you frowned.
Noticing this, Chara immediately halted their actions.
“I’m sorry,” they apologized again.
They let go of your wrist, their bandaged hands on their downcast face.
“I just.. I don’t get it, why are you not angry with me?”
“Why are you always so nice to me?”
“Why did you reward me for something I don’t deserve? I don’t deserve this at all.”
After having asked their many questions, they finally looked at you.
“Chara,” you began, “we already went over these questions before, besides you already know the answers to them.”
“You are not useless, and those toys don’t mean too much to me anymore. You do.” You looked at them with such sincerity at that moment, Chara wasn’t sure how to respond or act. So they did the only thing they could think of at that moment.
“Okay…” they mumbled softly, looking away from your gaze.
You smiled at their cuteness, glad that the atmosphere wasn’t so heavy anymore. At that moment you decided to tease them.
“You’re not going to cry are you?” You joked, referencing how almost every incident when you and Chara talked to each other seriously, it always ended up with Chara in tears.
Their cheeks pinked in embarrassment, understanding what you meant.
“N-no! Shut up!”
You chuckled, ruffling their hair. "I'm just joking, its okay to cry."
“Hey!” they yelled.
You grabbed the donut near them and moved it in front of them.
“Here,” you said.
Chara unknowingly bit on the donut that was still being held on by your hand.
You smiled in amusement.
Chara immediately grabbed the donut from your hand and looked away, deciding not to speak with you anymore.
They smiled to themselves as they continued to eat the delicious pastry. It was so good, it was filled and covered with the same familiar taste of the brown specks you put on the pancakes for breakfast.
“Like it?” you asked.
“It’s chocolate flavor-”
“YES,” Chara immediately said as they finished the treat, immediately rummaging through the donut bag for more.
You rolled your eyes and laughed before ruffling their hair again as they ate. |
cb7d22eda2cb4c0ca7cdcfb5d9075ebf | ['2b1587f8bbfa4519a5bece88b9560d65'] | "OH THAT IS IT!" She yells through grit teeth, her face painted a bright crimson as she rocks to her knees, leans closer to Shinoa and points an enraged finger at the lilac-haired girl. "ONE OF THESE DAYS, I'LL GET YOU, SHINOA!!"
With a groan from Kimizuki, the rest of the team bursts out in laughter, aside from Mikaela, who looks disgusted. The rosiness of his cheeks has not quite abated, and he turns a glare at Yuu with red eyed frustration as his mouth forms a sentence anyone with eyes could read. She can't hear the heated whisper over the noise, but she can see the movement of his lips as he speaks it.
_That's so gross._
Yuu turns to him with the jovial smile still on his face, and it morphs into something smaller, gentler and reserved.
"I know. C'mon Mika, let's go."
Shinoa keeps her own smile on her face, even as her eyes trace the way Yuu's hand slides further down Mika's arm to catch at the base of his wrist and tug him along. She can feel fury twist her insides as though the brambles of envy are taking hold of her stomach, and she shouldn't be so jealous, but she is. Once again, the vampire follows obediently, and Shinoa's eyes remain glued to their almost joined hands.
When they disappear around the corner of the dilapidated warehouse, Shinoa waits a few moments and joins in on some idle chatter before putting on a huge fake yawn and stretching her arms above her head.
She wants to see them, wants to see what's so embarrassing for Mika about feeding that it paints his face a delicate pink when asked. But she also wants to see how close the two of them really are behind closed doors, if their behaviours outside are an indication for anything.
It's not jealousy, but curiosity... isn't it?
"Well, I'm tired guys. I'm gonna go change out of my uniform, but I'll be back in a few minutes." She says with a hopefully believable strain in her voice. It seems to work, because she gets a thumbs up from Narumi, a smile and a nod from Yoichi and a grunt from Kimizuki.
"Shinoa," Mitsuba beckons her over with a semi-serious face, and she seriously considers ignoring it, but leans towards her anyway. Mitsuba cups her hand around Shinoa's ear and whispers quietly, "I know you want to spy on them. Maybe you shouldn't. He's only feeding, nothing else."
Shock suffuses though her at the claim, and internally she cannot deny it, but she quickly paints a lecherous grin on her face and turns it around in defense.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mitsuba. Maybe you're the one that wants to watch. I was just going to change my clothes." She lilts quietly, almost nose to nose with her now. "Perhaps you should peek in on them? Maybe you'll see something hot that really will make your panties swim. God, you really _are_ a pervert, Mitsu." She hides a giggle with her gloved hand, and stands up without looking at her friend's cherry red race.
"_Shinoa-_!" Mitsuba starts, but aborts her yell as Shinoa brushes herself off from the sand and walks away with a wave and a lewd smirk.
"Relax, I'll be back later." She walks with an unhurried pace while in full view of the squad, but the moment she is out of vision, she breaks into a run, keeping her steps as quiet as possible.
Entering into the warehouse, she quickly steps towards the ladder leading to a platform that stands over their sleeping area and climbs it as quietly as she can, making her way towards the multi-panelled window. There's a smaller shed a little ways from the broken window, and she can see the two boys leaning against the other building in full view.
Outside is bathed in the light of the moon, so she can clearly see the white of Mika's outfit, as well as the moonlit outline of Yuu's military coat, and it's dark enough in here that either of them look up they shouldn't be able to see her, unless vampiric night-vision is a thing. It's the perfect position to see their faces, too.
Shinoa perches herself close to the window and listens hard, crowing silently to herself in victory as she catches the sound of their voices drifting through the cracks and missing panels in the structure. She peeks though an unbroken pane of glass and watches their every move. So far, they're standing close, and it appears that nothing has happened yet.
"...orry, Mika, I really did forget about it." Yuu's voice sounds, and she watches his hand reach up towards collar. "We were so busy lately, it just slipped my mind." Mikaela's hand shoots up to clasp onto Yuu's to halt his fingers.
"No, I neglected to tell you. It's fine." The words are supposed to be placating, but it gets a rise out of Yuu anyway.
"It's not fine!" the black haired boy says loudly, curling his fingers back around Mika's. "It's unforgivable! You're my best friend, and I let you go hungry! I'm so sorry about that."
"You have nothing to be sorry about!" Mika grits out before Yuu's even finished talking, head bowing. Yuu's eyes shoot to his vampire friend, verdant green trained on the pale face of his companion in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"I told you last time, I've swallowed my thirst for years. It's a force of habit from before we reunited and I'm so used to it that I didn't think about it either."
"How long have you been doing it?"
"Since I was turned. So just after you left. Just after..." He trails off, eyes dropping to the ground. | ec5ba4e31aef4b84b7bbec477cac383c | ['2b1587f8bbfa4519a5bece88b9560d65'] | "You're thirsty. Aren't you, vampire kid?" Yuu draws in a shocked breath at that. "That's why you don't wanna sit with us. You're craving blood, and you're afraid of what could happen. " Narumi's expression doesn't change as he talks, discarding the trash from his meal into the fire.
Mikaela hesitates as his eyes widen slightly, face going slack for a millisecond as his eyes follow the movement of Narumi's exposed wrist as he returns his arm to prop against his bent knee. It's a telling sign, giving him away to the group almost instantly.
When Mikaela snaps out of his brief surprise and opens his mouth to deny his claim, Narumi cuts him off with a wave. "Don't bother trying to hide it, I can tell just by looking at you. Has to be painful by now, isn't it?."
From her angle, Shinoa can see his jaw clench in frustration as he straightens to face the waves once more, his long white fangs just visible through the part of his lips, and his brows drawn together over his pale forehead. She can see his fingers flinch in their hold of his folded arms, and knows that Narumi must have hit the nail on the head for him to react so conspicuously.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Mikaela mutters, almost angrily.
"Now you're just lying to yourself."
"I'm fine."
"No you're not."
"Shut up."
"How much does it hurt right now?"
"Stop it!"
"Not until you admit it."
"I don't need to!" He looks so defensive, like a cornered mouse standing before a group of hungry cats. It seems like such an odd reverse, that he's a vampire being called out for being thirsty but unwilling to do anything about it.
It speaks miles about his own hatred for himself.
"Kid, don't fool yourself. If you ignore your need to drink blood, you know what will happen, right?" Mikaela says nothing in response to that. "You'll become so desperate for it that you'll attack someone. I heard the pain is intense enough to drive a vampire crazy. And if you don't drink for long enough, you turn into a demon."
"I don't need you to tell me that!" He hisses back, in an effort to end the conversation, but Narumi continues anyway.
"We don't want that to happen. We're just trying to help you, so you need to let us know when you have to eat, alright?"
"I'm telling you, I don't need your-!"
"Mika!" Yuuichirou's yell cuts across the empty beach. At the sound of his name, the blond's voice dies in his throat and his red eyes widen in shock and turn to him instantly. Yuu climbs to his feet and stares the vampire dead in the eye. Shinoa can see the brief frustration in his posture as he stands, walking towards Mika with a purposeful stride, talking as he goes.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realise before, but now I do. No wonder you've been so tetchy lately. That's my fault, I'd forgotten about it."
Yuu heaves out a sigh as he walks, twisting back to look at the group for a moment. "Just give us a sec, guys."
Politely, the rest of the squad does, turning back to give them the privacy of their own conversation, but Shinoa doesn't. She keeps watching and listening discretely.
He stops before the blond with a hand on his hip, and Mika leans away, cowing back against the warehouse in a defeated slouch as if Yuu is an angry parent before a chastised child.
"I did tell you to inform me when you needed blood. You know I can help you with that, right?"
"I... know, Yuu-chan."
"And you _are_ thirsty, right?"
"...A little." There's a faint pink on his face now, and it strikes Shinoa as odd, that he submits so easily to Yuuichirou's questions but was so antagonistic towards the others. That he can almost bow to Yuuichirou immediately, but everyone else doesn't even deserve a second look. I_t looks like... guilt,_ her mind supplies helpfully._ He can't lie about something like that to Yuuichirou._
_Or... is it something else?_
But that's a thought she doesn't really want to entertain.
"You know you can drink mine, if you need it."
The pink on Mikaela's face intensifies with a grimace, and he bows his head in an attempt to hide it, eyes obscured by his blond locks. His hand slowly rises to press his palm against his forehead, as though the thin span of his wrist will hide enough of his face to ensure he can disappear, while Yuu slides a hand onto his shoulder.
It's like he's embarrassed or something. Shinoa thinks it's adorable, in a bizarre way, even if she pities him for his unwanted need for blood.
By this point, everyone else in the group is talking amongst themselves quietly about a different matter, to give them some semblance of privacy, but she knows that they're still listening intently. She keeps her ears open for the two boy's voices over the chattering around her.
"What's the matter? Are you shy or something?" Yuu's voice is low, leaning in close enough to almost be pressing his forehead against the back of Mikaela's hand.
"No, I just don't want to." But his face remains hidden, and Yuu's own expression becomes sympathetic.
"I know you don't want to, Mika, but it's been too long since you fed last. You're going to eat whether you want to or not."
The vampire says nothing, sliding his hand from his forehead down to press his fingers over his mouth in a gesture of childish resistance. Yuu's frown pulls at the corners of his lips, as the hand on Mika's shoulder tightens its grip against the black and white fabric.
"C'mon, Mika, don't do this." He says, voice almost a whine. "Take your hand away from your mouth. I promise it won't even hurt me!" |
a23ce3503d234cf6857d174179ad8dc3 | ['2b270abe737b4dcd9614b31ab8164b69'] | Blake had leaned forward then, eye toward the hallway where the ladies room was. "There's been a great deal of tragedy in your family history, Samuel. Brave hearts can be foolish ones. You love her and believe it or not, I don't doubt that, but can you bring her the happiness she deserves?"
Sam had been unprepared for that much of a direct question, but it wasn't entirely out of the blue. "No offense, sir, but I don't think happiness is something that you work for. It comes to you, sometimes when you least expect it. Maybe even when you least deserve it. I think we all deserve to look for that, to have that. No matter our family history."
He'd said it quietly, but even in saying it, he found it to be true for the most part. What he thought he deserved and what he got, seemed to be two entirely different things. He caught sight of Sarah coming back, smile on her face, so beautiful she took his breath away. He half forgot Blake's question. "I don't know if I deserve her, but I know enough to be grateful for what I've got," he said and stood up to meet her.
Daniel Blake hadn't brought it up again.
And stretched out on a sunny bed with his bride, Sam wasn't so much grateful as fiercely happy.
Fierce enough to fight to his dying breath to keep it.
++++
Dean grumbled and snarled when they dragged him out of bed before dawn to participate in a whale watch, complaining that getting sloshed on by gigantic fish was in no way preferable to sleeping in. Yet he clung to the railing on the opposite side of Sarah, watching a pod of humpbacks breech the water. Sarah bought him a snow-globe of whale flukes and lighthouses, and _Cape Elizabeth_ in overly florid script, complete with a Velcro attachment. Sam had never in his life seen Dean attach anything permanently to the dashboard of the Impala, but the Velcro went down and the double stick tape would leave marks, and every time they hit a rough spot on the road, the snow fell over the whales, and the glitter made the tiny waves shine.
Sarah leaned across the back of the seat and hooked her arms around both of them, and promised Dean a hula girl if they ever got to Hawaii. That prompted a dozen stories of road-side kitsch seen in a hundred truck stops and small motels. Dean's regard for Sarah went up a hundred fold when she proved to him that she knew all 4 original verses of "Plastic Jesus" by heart, and a good 20 besides that.
Sam remarked it was entirely possible that Dean and Sarah had been split at birth which in effect was similar to marrying his brother. That got him the entire song sung three times _in harmony_ on the drive back to the inn, and by the time they arrived, he knew all the lyrics, too.
They'd walked the beach the night before, with flashlights and jackets and a six pack of beer. No shotguns, though, for all that the talk around the inn was that the ghost of Lydia Carver showed up pretty regularly. Lydia didn't show, and really none of them expected her to, despite the plethora of tales and the willingness of the inn staff to talk about her. She was as much a draw to the inn as the food and the location. She evoked more curiosity than fear, more compassion than caution.
Dean actually did find time to study, as did Sam, sitting out in lawn chairs, trading ever more complicated escalating mysteries of contract law and human physiology while Sarah read them the more lurid passages out of a garishly covered romance novel. Dean and Sam cried uncle first, until Dean pulled the book from Sarah's hand and read nearly half a chapter in a squeaky falsetto and then hauled Sam up to offer up a counter to the most wretched bit of purple prose theatre Sam had heard of outside of Moll Flanders.
Sarah was red-faced with laughter, flailing and failing to get to her feet to snatch the book back and even more so, when Sam pulled her up to pose for the cover, while Dean took picture after picture on a disposable camera and then shoved them both into the pool.
They ate too much lobster and drank too many beers on the second night only to end up playing scrabble where Dean met his match in the made-up-words department because Sarah had an _art degree_ from an American university and that made all foreign words she'd learned fair game.
They could see the beach front from their own little private veranda and Sarah fell asleep with her head in Sam's lap and her feet tucked onto Dean's. Dean was halfway there himself, nodding at the sound of the waves and if Sam could have frozen them all right there, he might have wished it. But then Sarah stirred and woke and turned her face up to his, and he wanted every moment after that; no stopping, no pausing, moving ever forward.
Their last night at the inn was on a Saturday, and the inn was holding an on the beach clambake with bonfire and music and the promised ghost tour. There was a fair crowd: couples and families, and four young women there for one of the inn's special packages -- a bachelorette party. It was too much of a temptation for Dean not to flirt, and tease, and the women were happy enough to play along, refusing to tell him which one was engaged until he'd danced with all of them. They'd tried for Sam as well, but Sarah flashed her ring and a laugh and refused to rescue Dean even when he'd begged. | 1804ec6a951849a8a092a924518b5977 | ['2b270abe737b4dcd9614b31ab8164b69'] |
Lex Domicilii
Lex Domicilii
By Maygra
+++++
"Daddy!"
Leigh's gleeful greeting made Sarah's eyes dart instinctively for the door even though she hadn't heard it or a car.
"Mommy, Daddy's on TV!" Mary piped in and Sarah could hear Allie heading down the stairs.
She covered the pot, turned the heat off and ducked into the living room.
"Move, Lemur. Can't see," Mary said, but Leigh wouldn't move, hands pressed to the flat screen to frame her father's face.
Sam looked harried, frazzled and pissed off, but the low pitch of his voice was steady, sure, no hesitation and he kept his eyes locked on the speaker -- or the camera. It was hard to tell. Sarah had a moment's giddy gleeful fear that he was going to deck the reporter so insistently shoving a microphone in his face.
The news channel scroll bar was half obscured by Allie trying to peel Leigh back from the screen, all three girls staring at their father's face. Allie finally managed to get Leigh back by wrapping her arms around her sister's stomach and just sitting. Leigh tumbled into her lap but seemed content, three fingers in her mouth.
The sound was low, news reporter speaking over whatever Sam was saying, whatever the reporters were asking.
_Prosecuting attorney, ADA Sam Winchester_ blazoned in white across a blue bar of color.
"…threats made public this morning, allegedly from the defendant--" Sarah grabbed the remote and turned the sound off, and when the camera panned back to the reporter's face -- the mass of people behind her, including Sam, blurred -- she turned the picture off as well.
The girls sat silently for a long moment, staring at the blank screen.
"Is Daddy coming home for dinner?" Mary asked.
"I don't know, but it's almost ready. Get washed up." Sarah dropped the remote on the coffee table.
She heard Mary say something and Allie respond. She didn't pay attention to the words.
She stared at the stove, at the half-prepared meal and didn't know where to start. Maybe she should just take the girls to McDonald's. She looked out the kitchen window at the unmarked car parked at the end of the drive and wondered if the officers there liked Big Macs, or if they were Happy Meal kind of guys.
The phone rang and Sarah stared at it. A second ring and third, and the girls came in. They'd been told not to answer the phone. Not at all. Sarah could go to it, read the caller ID.
She hadn't picked up the phone in over a week. They were supposed to change the number, but it hadn't happened yet.
It stopped after the fourth ring and Sarah's cell went off in her purse. That she picked up, able to breathe again. "Hey."
"Saw the news. I'm halfway there."
Dean didn't give her anything more, but she didn't need it. She hung up. It rang again, almost immediately.
"Dean's on his way over."
Sarah smiled, aware that the girls all relaxed too. "He's faster than you. Are you coming home?"
"Yeah, but don't wait dinner. I have to give somebody a new asshole."
Sam was furious; his tone was measured, even joking. But he was mad -- possibly even murderous. Sarah would help him hide the bodies. "Okay. Talk to the munchkins," she said and passed the phone to Allie.
Dinner made sense again and she brought the water back up to a boil, added mushrooms to the sauce, got Allie to butter the bread while Leigh chattered at Sam. Mary set the table without being asked, but she was smiling again, which meant Sam had said something to her.
Good. Better for him too. Nothing settled Sam's temper like his daughters. Leigh trotted up and handed the phone back to her and happily took the buttered, but untoasted bread Allie handed her.
"What are you making?"
"Spaghetti. With homemade sauce. I've been slaving all day."
"Save me some."
"Your brother's coming over. I'd suggest you hurry."
"I'll try. Sarah--"
"Shut up. Kick what asses you have to and get home."
"I'm still sorry," he said, quietly.
"He deserves to be in prison. That's how you apologize," she said and didn't add _Be careful. Be safe._
"Yeah. I'll be home as soon as I can."
They'd be lucky if they saw him before midnight.
She got the girls sorted, had Mary set an extra plate for Dean and was cutting up Leigh's noodles when she heard the car in the drive, saw Dean's truck in the window. They let him through with no problem, and Allie was off her chair and running for the door before Sarah could say a damn thing. How Allie always knew when it was her uncle had ceased to be even a curiosity years ago.
He looked, if she looked carefully, nearly as pissed off as Sam, only the smile in his eyes and curving his lips overwrote it, obscured it from the girls. "What are we having?"
"SKETTI!!" Leigh shrieked and twisted around in her chair and standing on the seat. Dean reached out to brace the back of the chair. "Hi, Dee!"
"Hey, monkey. Got enough to share?"
They didn't talk about it, Dean shoveled out questions about school, play, anything but where Sam was and why. He unloaded the now toasted garlic bread onto the girls' plates, stole meatballs from Mary, and his arm hovered on the back of Allie's chair. He poured an extra glass of wine for Sarah and didn't mentioning how much food was left on her plate.
"Saw Daddy on TV," Mary said.
"Did you? How'd he look? Did he look like a movie star?"
"He looked mad," Allie said.
"That's because work is making him miss your mom's spaghetti," Dean said.
"Daddy!" Leigh offered, holding her sippy cup up in toast. |
4ae059b9af434fa19b90acfc9bba9b6c | ['2b4aa057ce594e609dfeb60c488cffcf'] |
1. Max has a question
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys so this is my first fanfic I have wirtten in english which is not my first language so please be kind to me.
>
> In this series Alec became immortal through Raziel. There will be a companion story in which I want to tell that story.
>
> Also in this verse Max is like Magnus Bi.
Alec was making dinner for Magnus and himself who was brewing some potion for a client when a portal opened in the living room and Max stepped out. He closed the portal behind himself and flopped face first down on the today canary yellow sofa. “ Hey Blue do you wane stay for dinner?” “Hey Dad, yes please is Papa here?” “ He is in the study and should be out for dinner, do you wanne talk about it?” “After dinner and I´m sorry but I think only Papa can help with this problem.” “ Ok dinner should be ready in about half an hour.” “ Thanks Dad.” “ Can you set the table while I finish in here?” “Yes I`m actually a little embarrassed by it so can you not bring it up with Papa before dinner is finished.” “ Of course but you know your Papa and he is gonne suspect something is wrong when you just appear for dinner.” “ Yeah you`re right but one can hope.” Said Max with a little crocked smile on his face. “ What are you cooking anyway?” “ Chicken curry with rice and salad, Magnus dinner is ready” Called Alec while he was serving the chicken. “ Just a moment.” Called Magnus back and true to his word a minute later he walked out of his study. “ It smells good in here darling, oh hey blueberry what are you doing here for dinner have I missed something?” “ No not really I came by to talk to you from warlock to warlock.” Said Max and took his seat at the table. “ Sounds serious honey, can we discuss over dinner or would you like to postpone this till after dinner?” “After dinner would be great papa.” Said Max and helped himself to the chicken. | 7d24963ae4c84e509847a44ce3f13711 | ['2b4aa057ce594e609dfeb60c488cffcf'] | " You take care of them if they get a stomachache or throw up and I will blame you" threatened Alec but he was smiling and already had a cup of chocolate in his own hand.
" I want to watch finding Nemo." Said Rafael who was eyeing the different ice cream flavors.
"Finding Nemo it is" Smiled Magnus and the Movie began to play.
Magnus conjured up a big fluffy blanked to cover them all while Alec retrieved the kids favorite stuffed animals.
They settled in snuggled together on the sofa and watched how they searched for Nemo.
At the end of the movie Max was fast asleep against Alec’s chest and Rafael was dosing snuggled into Magnus side.
" Ok I think it’s time for bed now" Proclaimed Magnus and started getting up.
" No, no I don't want to be alone again. Please no." Cried Rafael and clung unto Magnus like a little Monkey.
` It would be cute if he wasn't crying` thought Alec.
" How about tonight we all sleep in the big bed then ?" Asked Magnus and lifted Rafael onto his side.
" Yeah let's do that" Agreed Alec and picked up Max who was out like a light and didn’t even stir.
Once in the bedroom they put the kids on the bed and went one after the other into the bathroom to get ready for the night.
When everyone was settled Magnus dimmed the lights and hugged Rafael closer to his side, on the other side he intertwined his legs with Alec who had Max on his other side.
Entangled like this the whole family fell into a blissful sleep.
The next morning found them in the same position only with Chairman Meow additionally sprawled across Alec's chest. |
84b33f219c474ffea497814d6400a226 | ['2b76105291054702b95202f9e1d91f13'] | He downs his bottle before returning a question, “What did you expect then? I’m always alone anyway, you said so yourself.”
“I know what I said, but that doesn’t mean it’s not surprising to see how quickly you’ve warmed up to Wonwoo, just as much as he did to you.”
Soonyoung isn’t the only one that has noticed the sudden change. Mingyu knows how different he’s become and how his mindset about the world had no longer been limited to his own. As soon as Mingyu opened up to Wonwoo in Tokyo about his life, he realized he had already given him the power to break down his walls, little by little.
“Look,” Soonyoung starts, “It’s great that you and Wonwoo share more things in common than just—I don’t know taxi cabs? His intentions may be good, but… Maybe you shouldn’t expect anything else.”
Mingyu turns to face Soonyoung as concern marred the latter’s face. Before his friend can welcome any other thoughts in his head, he quickly dismisses the idea.
“Whatever it is that you’re thinking of right now, please stop because it’s not what you think.”
“I can’t help it,” Soonyoung reasons out, “You may not think anything about it now, but when something does happen, it will be all that you will think about. I just don’t want you to feel disappointed in the end.”
“Soonyoung,” he calls out, “I don’t.. I don’t see him in the way that you think I do, so what on earth could I possibly be disappointed about?”
Soonyoung pauses, hesitant at first.
“Wonwoo...he’s been through stuff.”
“So have I,” Mingyu defends. “What does that have to do with Glasgow?”
“Nothing,” Soonyoung mutters before shaking his head. “You know what? I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not even my business. I guess I have you to thank. The things that happened to him in the past really broke him, and I’ve never seen him this excited in a while.”
Without thinking, Mingyu's words flow out of him, with equal parts of uncertainty and reassurance.
“This could be a good thing. Maybe for both of us.”
Soonyoung smiles and takes his hand in comfort. “Just don’t hurt each other, okay? He’s my friend too. I’ve known him for a very long time.”
Despite Mingyu’s spontaneous escapades with Wonwoo, he realizes that the pilot knows things about him that most people don’t know about when in return he knows so little about him.
As they sit in silence, he thinks about what Soonyoung said, and it makes him all the more curious about Wonwoo.
Mingyu only answers with a smile. “And I’m getting to know him.”
G L A S G O W , S C O T L A N D
Mingyu pushes the trolley cart forward as its wheels turn underneath, hurrying as he keeps in mind that he has to find him. When Mingyu exits the baggage claiming area, he catches him already standing by the arrival gate—face calm with a posture that poses an effortless confidence.
Despite the amount of people inside the airport, Wonwoo’s eyes quickly meet his own, a mix of surprise and anticipation suddenly playing in his smile and tugging his lips upward.
Whether it was because Mingyu was in a different country or because of the person standing a few steps away from him in an unfamiliar place, the excitement makes his heart race anyway.
“You got the postcard.” Wonwoo says when Mingyu makes it in front of him, watching him take his luggage out of the cart and pull it right next to him.
“I sure did,” he agrees, returning a small and shy smile while he continues to joke. “I should warn you though, I’m not very good at being spontaneous.”
The remark makes Wonwoo laugh a bit, his eyes shortly curving into thin crescent lines just like how he remembered them.
“I’m happy you came anyway,” Wonwoo answers. “There are a few places I thought we could visit that you might enjoy. We should be able to fit them all in one day to make the most out of the city.”
“I’ve got time,” Mingyu tells him. “I haven’t booked a return flight yet, so it doesn’t matter. I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t miss seeing what this side of the world has to offer.”
Wonwoo’s eyes shortly focus on something behind him, but says nothing about it. Instead, he reveals an even brighter smile.
“Well, I’m sure the world will definitely surprise you.”
Mingyu notices the sunrays that peek from the glass window above them, trying to compete with the light in Wonwoo’s smile. The lights cast a glow on his face that only does more to illuminate him, creating another wondrous kind of sunshine. For a moment, Mingyu thinks that maybe it already has.
As they stand side by side and prepare to leave the airport, Wonwoo takes one more look at the yellow umbrella sticking out from Mingyu’s backpack, true to his promise.
“You can keep the umbrella, by the way,” Wonwoo says, “Just make sure you don’t poke someone with that thing on your back.”
On their first day in Glasgow, Mingyu learns that in order to define the future, you can never run away from the past.
They take a shuttle bus to the city centre and check in at a tiny hostel Wonwoo had booked in advance before catching the subway that leads to the Kelvingrove Museum. As soon as they reach their destination, the day turns as busy as the locals and tourists swiftly making their way inside the momentous building to take a glimpse of the numerous art designed by the likes of Scottish artists.
From the Kelvingrove Museum, they walk up to the West End and visit the Botanic Gardens, where tulips color the ground with the most vivid hues the same way exotic tropical plants catch their attention, showered in natural sunlight inside the Kibble Palace. | b2197744521540a4a2a2185de6773143 | ['2b76105291054702b95202f9e1d91f13'] | Mingyu emerges from the airport terminal minutes after landing and swiftly passing immigration. He exits the gate, tugging both straps of his backpack with his hands and hugging them tightly to his chest as he makes his way over to a taxi stand he spots at the corner. He’s the first in line but doesn’t see a single taxi parked. He doesn’t take the risk in leaving and stays in his place, using the time to bring out a map and see which places to visit.
Just as he reads a tourist guide at the bottom of the map, another man approaches the line and stands next to him.
Mingyu’s head shoots up on instinct, turning to find a young and slender man dressed in a pilot’s uniform. His cap is missing, but on the top of his head are soft raven curls. Their eyes suddenly meet, a deliberate smile suddenly crossing the man’s face that leaves Mingyu wondering why he’s looking at him like that. He tries to quietly focus on his map, until seconds pass by and the man’s stare continues to pierce through him from peripheral view, so much that it starts to make him uncomfortable.
He lifts his head once more to stare back at him.
“Can I help you with something?” Mingyu asks, feeling conscious from the attention he’s getting. “Is there something on my face?”
The pilot chuckles, but the accusatory look on his face entails something more. It almost seems as if he recognizes him, like he’d stolen something from him that he needed back.
“I just couldn't help but notice how you look more dried up than I remember.”
Mingyu’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“I see that you actually did make it to your flight.”
Mingyu doesn’t follow at all, not even when the pilot gauges his face for a reaction and is disappointed to find none.
“Paris, three weeks ago?” he reminds him, “The storm and wet clothes? The taxi?”
Realization suddenly dawns on Mingyu, and his eyes almost grow double in size.
“Do you really not remember?”
_Don’t be late._
A curse slips out from Mingyu’s mouth in disbelief. It’s quick and low, but it’s enough for the pilot to hear, cocking an eyebrow at him. Mingyu realizes this and quickly blurts out an apology.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that—it really didn’t mean anything—I just..” He sighs. “I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t expect that I’d come across you here.”
It was the truth. Mingyu didn’t think he’d be able to come across him again. _Ever_.
A wave of laughter breaks from his face, grinning when he says, “I’m a pilot, if it helps. Let’s just say you’re most likely to see me anywhere. I thought I was setting myself up for embarrassment when you couldn’t remember.”
If there was anyone who should be embarrassed, it should be Mingyu. He didn’t think he would be able to forget that day without wanting the ground to swallow him up.
“It’s not exactly something I could just easily forget.” Mingyu tells him.
“Absolutely,” he agrees. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget the face of a _cabnapper_.”
“Did you really just call me a ‘cabnapper’?” Mingyu asks, slightly offended. “It’s not even a word. Plus, it was an honest mistake.”
“Sure it was,” he mimics teasingly, “What would you like me to call you, then?”
Mingyu doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he catches himself smiling at the pilot and offering his free hand out to him. “I’m Mingyu.”
The pilot takes glances between Mingyu and his hand, then nods in acknowledgement as he takes it.
“Well, Mingyu, call me Wonwoo,” he introduces, shaking his hand and bringing it back to his side. “You know, suddenly bumping into you now means that I’m probably gonna have to ask for the things I said I would in the note I left the other time.”
Mingyu wishes he’d already forgotten about it, but it was only fair that he paid him back.
“Of course. Let me just..” He shrugs the backpack off from his shoulder, seizes it in front of him and unzips the pocket. “I don’t have your umbrella at the moment, but I can pay for your ride.”
“Take your time,” Wonwoo tells him, “You don't need to right now. In fact, you can do that once we get inside the cab.”
Mingyu stops short, looking at the implying smile resting on Wonwoo’s face.
“Oh,” Mingyu says, “You mean-”
“The last time I saw you, you were alone. By any chance, are you meeting anyone today?"
Mingyu doesn't even need to think about his answer.
“No. I’m not meeting anyone,” he firmly says, while Wonwoo nods in acknowledgement.
”Okay,” he comments. “Have you been to Jeju before? Do you have any plans or specific places you want to see?”
Mingyu has a feeling he’s not going to like where this is heading. He wonders what Wonwoo is trying to get at when he maintains eye contact, thin lips curling into a smile that is something akin to kitten.
He glances at the map in his hand with a pout, his eyes landing hastily back on the pilot’s. "Far from it, actually,” he mutters.
“Good,” Wonwoo says. “I’m meeting some friends downtown to camp out with them until the end of my layoff. Come with me.”
Mingyu runs out of words. “I’m sorry, what?”
“If you're going to act on impulse, it’s best to start downtown,” Wonwoo tells him, a smile still resting on his face. “It’ll also cost you less when you share a cab with me.” |
b514208ddaed464ea4979a875a2a0006 | ['2b7b5d5ee0be425e8571fe79c7f743dc'] | He's not the same
**Author's Note:**
> DAY 3 HERE WE GO.
>
> Chosen prompts : Transformation and Distrust.
>
> Don't expect that much from this, I rushed it and it's really not that great.
Recently, Taehyung had noticed that something was off with Hoseok. He stopped telling Taehyung where he was going, or what he was doing, even sneaking off by himself late at night when he thought Taehyung was asleep. And as much as Taehyung had wanted to trust that nothing was going on, the anxiety and insecurities we're eating away at him.
He needed to know what was going on, which was why he was currently struggling to follow Hoseok without being noticed. It was quite hard once they had made it into the forest, Taehyung now having to watch out for every little branch and root that was on the path, not wanting to be discovered. He ended up stopping to hide in a bush once Hoseok had walked out into an open field, he would definitely be seen if he walked out there.
At first he was very confused, as Hoseok did not appear to be moving, or doing anything at all really besides standing there. For a while Taehyung had been relieved to see that this was all Hoseok had been doing at night… Even if it was a little strange. However it was at that moment which another figure had stepped into the meadow, smaller and most definitely masculine. Behind him he dragged the carcass of a deer, and Taehyung held back a gag just looking at it's torn up throat.
What the hell was going on?
Taehyung watched at the two greeted each other, as if they were old friends, the two of them talking about something, somewhat excited on Hoseok's end. They were too far away for him to make out any of what they were saying though.
He waited patiently, hoping to maybe hear a bit of what they were saying. This didn't happen though, not when Hoseok had begun stripping down, and Taehyung fought the urge to look away. There was no way this was what Hoseok had been up to, he wasn't like this. As it only continued, Taehyung had opened his mouth to call out to him, not able to say anything before a loud crack sounded in the forest. It was the sound of bones cracking and reforming themselves. Taehyung could only watch in horror as Hoseok's body began to contort and somehow grow in mass, slowly transforming into a grotesque creature halfway between wolf and man.
Taehyung had let out a fearful whimper, instantly slapping a hand over his mouth to stop the sound, only he was too late.
The beast that had previously been Hoseok, had whipped it's head towards Taehyung, letting out an animalistic growl. Taehyung stood there, rooted in the spot as the creature slowly stalked towards him, licking it's chops as if it were preparing for a meal. The other man in the field had begun shouting at Taehyung, in a near pleading tone, “Run! Goddamnit fucking run!”
That was what snapped Taehyung out of his momentary shock, letting out a panicked fry as he turned heel and ran as fast as he could. He could hear it crashing through the trees behind him, and all Taehyung could think was that this had to be fake, this was just some dream he was having. He tripped over a loose stone, falling to the ground harshly and scraping his arms. Even though the impact had shocked him, he scrambled to get back to his feet.
But he was too late.
There was a weight on his back that slammed him back into the ground only moments after he fell, a terrified scream falling from his lips, “No! Go awa-” His pleas were cut off by a scream that tore up his throat. He felt a burst of sharp pain in his shoulder where the creatures fangs had bit into him, letting out another scream when he felt a chunk of his own flesh being ripped off of himself.
Yet still he struggled, he fought, he tried to get away. Even when the creature had bit into him again, he still attempted escape. It was only when his vision was hazy from the blood loss and the pain, did he give up. His head fell against the earth with a dull thud, eyes closing.
Somewhere he thought he heard someone talking to him, they sounded scared, horrified almost. He could just barely make out a few words.
“Taehyung I'm sorry, it'll be okay just hang on. I'm so fucking sorry.”
Hang on to what?
Taehyung couldn't even think properly right now, and he couldn't feel anything in his arm at all. He tried to voice this, but wasn't sure of how successful he was, as he had slipped into unconsciousness then.
This time, he didn't dream
**Author's Note:**
> HAHA
>
> YOU GET TO DECIDE, IS HE DEAD OR ALIVE? | b65d9b2303d84d958b64e489b2f2e2dd | ['2b7b5d5ee0be425e8571fe79c7f743dc'] | My Star
**Author's Note:**
> Day 5!
>
> I'm late by an hour but I don't care, it's cute and adorable and I cried while writing it, and it's amazing, and I'm proud of it, and I love it.
>
> Stop reading my notes and get to the fic already.
It was late at night, autumn had only just begun, so the air was cold enough for one to feel a bit chilly. To Jin though, he couldn't feel any warmer. He was laying down atop a grassy hilltop, in only light breathable clothing. Draped over his body and curled around him was the soft feathered wing of his guardian angel, whose arms were wrapped securely around Jin's waist to keep him close. The two of them were stargazing, Jin talking about all the different constellations he knew, and the stories they carried. As he spoke, he ran his fingers across Hoseok's feathers, enjoying the silky feel of them. He had only stopped when he turned his head, finding the angel staring at him as if he were his whole world. Jin couldn't help but smile when he noticed how Hoseok was looking at him, so cheekily he said, “You're staring.”
Calmly, Jin had received a soft and quiet reply, “I am.”
“The stars are above us Hoseok… I thought we were star gazing.”
Hoseok had gently shaken his head, a smile as bright as the sun taking up an appearance on his features, “I am stargazing, and I believe you are terribly mistaken. The most beautiful star is right here on Earth, and he is in my arms as we speak.”
Jin's cheeks instantly colored, taken off guard by the sudden compliment, and smiling with a brightness that rivaled the angel's own smile, “You're ridiculous.”
“That is also true, my star.”
This caused Jin to burst out into cheerful squeaky laughter, joy shone in his darker toned eyes, “I can't believe you sometimes.” He let out a few last laughs as he calmed down a bit, “But I love you anyways.” He leaned over to press a kiss to Hoseok's cheek, one which was instantly returned by the angel pressing his lips to Jin's in a soft and sweet kiss.
Only moments later did they separate, only to pull each other in as close as possible, holding each other with a gentleness only lovers could achieve. No words needed to be said between them. All they needed was each other, as it had been from the moment they first met. The bond they shared was special, and it was one they would cherish for a lifetime. |
a3fd3415f5d04b8db3f2ae0a7788accb | ['2b8be6e75bff49b1988f6e8d16a96672'] | “That’s alright, Retsuko.” said Haida quickly, even though he was disappointed at not getting to spend some free time with her. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Although she gave Haida a look for letting her go so easily, she remained silent, choosing instead to join Haida as they prepared to head off.
“See you later, Retsuko.” said Haida, waving.
Retsuko waved back, and they finally went their separate ways, with Haida and Fenneko heading to the bar while Retsuko went in the opposite direction heading to the restaurant.
\----------------------------------------
Retsuko was only half-listening as Gori and Washimi chattered excitedly about vacation destinations for the three of them, showing pictures on their phones every so often.
“Retsuko?” asked Washimi, looking over at her as she showed a picture of a spa getaway to Hokkaido. “What do you think about going here?”
“Um…it looks alright.”
“Okay, you’re being way quieter than you normally are, Retsuko.” said Gori, her hands on her hips. “What’s going on with you, girl?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” she said, trying to smile despite not feeling too happy. “Just a long day at work.”
“Come on, Retsuko. You know me better than that.”
“Yeah, we need some details, Retsuko.” said Washimi.
“It’s just a new co-worker, you guys.” said Retsuko. “Listen, can we not talk about this? I really don’t want to be the one to bring down this dinner.”
Retsuko hurriedly pulled out her phone and scrolled through a list of destinations, landing on a bike ride expedition.
“How about this?” she asked. “A bike ride through Nippon sounds good.”
Both Gori and Washimi couldn’t help but be concerned, but in a bid to respect Retsuko’s wishes, they decided to change the subject. However, as Retsuko dug into her dinner, the two of them silently agreed that they were going to figure out what was going on and help her out.
“So…” said Washimi, changing the subject. “All these trips are nice and all, but how are we going to get to these places? I may be the CEO’s secretary, but I don’t think I make enough to be able to afford to fly there. Plus, I can’t really drive.”
“Honey, I’m a terrible driver.” said Gori as the other two looked at her. “I can’t even work a motorized scooter right.”
“Retsuko? How about you?” asked Washimi.
“Um…I don’t have a license.”
“Oh, nonsense.” said Washimi, waving off her excuse. “We’ve got more than enough time for you to get one if you want.”
Retsuko was admittedly a little unsure as to whether she actually wanted to go through with getting a driver’s license, but after thinking about it for a few seconds, she shrugged.
“Sure, I guess I could work on it.”
Both Gori and Washimi smiled now that Retsuko agreed to help out.
As for Retsuko herself, while she was a little nervous about the prospect of going through driving school, she was happy that at least she would get something good out of going through all this.
So, with their plans set, Retsuko was a little more animated than she originally was, as the three of them bounced more ideas for vacations off of each other.
\----------------------------------------
While Retsuko was off with Gori and Washimi, Haida and Fenneko were off at the bar drinking their problems away, or at least in this case, it was more Haida drinking his problems away while Fenneko was still on her first glass of red wine.
“You know, I’m pretty sure that we can’t discuss a plan of action when one of the people involved is completely smashed.” said Fenneko calmly as she looked up to Haida sitting next to her.
The hyena in question was clearly drunk, his face red and his snout currently pressed into the bar’s countertop.
“What’s the point?” he said, his voice coming out slightly nasal. “I read through the email a few times, and the kid’s somehow found a way to get offended at things I didn’t even think was possible to get offended at.”
“Welcome to 2019, Haida.” said Fenneko. “Japanese culture is way different now compared to when you and I were his age.”
“No kidding.”
As Haida continued to rest his face against the cool countertop, Fenneko took another sip of her wine, swirling it around in her glass for a few minutes as she decided to look up Anai’s Instagram and see what was up with him.
Thankfully, being as tech savvy as she was, it didn’t take her long to actually find his profile, as she could see a good number of pictures featuring the badger.
As Haida watched her scroll through his profile out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help but notice her eyebrows start to raise higher and higher with each flick of her finger.
“Something up?” he asked, rolling his head slightly to the side so he could see her better without removing his head from the cool counter.
“Oh, nothing.” said Fenneko.
Her calculating mind had quickly come up with a plan after hitting the certain picture she saw, but in a bid to prevent anything from actually interfering with its completion, she decided that anyone who was not involved could not know about it in advance.
Luckily, Haida was too woozy from the beer to really notice.
“Listen, I have to go.” said Fenneko, sticking her phone in her pocket as she stood up and stuck a bill under her half-drunk glass.
Caught off guard by the suddenness of her impending exit, Haida’s head snapped up, the hyena quickly regretting his decision when his vision started to spin. His snout was also still bent out of shape from lying on the countertop, so he nearly went cross eyed from it being in front of his eyes.
Unfortunately, by the time he pulled his snout back into position, Fenneko was already gone.
“Dammit, where did she go?” | 88d9f43f4f974fc5be388a2e8f824bfe | ['2b8be6e75bff49b1988f6e8d16a96672'] | “Alright, fine!” said Knuckles defensively. “If we manage to find him, I suggest we lock him up!”
Knuckles paused; his arms spread wide as he waited to see what the others would think of it.
“That’s not all that special.” said Vector, looking unimpressed.
“Oh, what do you know!” said Knuckles, whipping his head around to face the crocodile.
“Knuckles does have a point, though.” said Espio, stepping between the two of them. “Locking him up is the only reliable way we can make sure that he’s not going to escape and try to rejoin the Doctor, at least outside of eliminating him.”
“And we’re not going to be doing that. We’re not killers.”
“Sonic’s right.” said Silver, standing nearby. “However, that’s not the most important question that we need to answer. If we ever do find him, where are we going to lock him up anyway?”
“Why not Prison Island?” said Vector. “It’s far away, so he’s definitely not going to bother us there.”
“Did you forget about the fact that GUN disbanded not long after the war started?” said Rouge, a smirk on her face as she stepped forwards. “Even if they bothered to repair the buildings after Eggman blew up the island, there’s no one there to watch him.”
“Oh please, don’t try to ignore the fact that you and Shadow helped him.” said Knuckles, his arms crossed as he stared at the bat.
“Oh, come now, Knuckles. That was years ago. When are you going to let that go?” she asked.
With her tone being as smug as it was, this ended up touching a nerve in the notoriously hotheaded echidna.
Luckily, before he could step forwards to get physical, he was stopped when his whole body was encased in cyan light.
Whipping his head around, he saw that Silver had his hand out towards him, his glove glowing the same cyan color as he was using his psychokinetic powers to hold the echidna back.
“What are you doing?” he asked, glaring at the white hedgehog.
“Saving you from making a mistake. Now, are you going to calm down, or am I going to have to hold you up in time out?”
Knuckles was admittedly still a little angry, but after breathing in and out for a second or two, he opened his eyes once more, now looking noticeably calmer.
“I’ll be alright.” he said. “We need to get back to the meeting anyway.”
Silver wasn’t entirely convinced, but he released his hold on Knuckles, the echidna landing on his feet as he quickly brushed himself off.
“So, back to business.”
He turned towards Gadget and Tails, the former caught off guard as he didn’t expect to get called on so soon after what happened.
“I haven’t heard anything from either of you two yet. Do you guys have any ideas about what we’re going to do about keeping Infinite under control?”
Tails didn’t have an answer, but surprisingly Gadget actually did.
“How about we keep him here?”
“Excuse me?” asked Amy. “What are you talking about? We don’t have anywhere to hold someone here.”
“Well then, why don’t we just make a place?”
The room fell silent after Gadget’s question, trading looks between each other.
“You know, there is that one storage room we haven’t used much. We can always convert that room into a holding cell.” said Charmy, placing a finger on his chin as he looked contemplative.
“That is true, but where are we going to find cell doors that are in one piece? All of the jails that I’ve seen have been destroyed in the war.” said Vector.
“How about Prison Island?”
Everyone looked over at Tails, surprised to see him finally speak up.
“Tails, were you listening? Prison Island was blown up.” said Amy, slightly puzzled as she wondered if something was up with the young fox.
“Yeah, years ago. And everyone’s ignored it since. What are the odds that Eggman’s one of those people, and hasn’t touched it when he took over the world? He was the one who destroyed the island, anyway.”
It was once again silent, as everyone was busy thinking about what Tails said.
“You know, you’re right.” said Sonic, stepping in partially because of the mission, but mostly because he wanted to try and distract his best friend from his suspicions. “I think we should try and fly over there and see if we can find a cell door there.”
There was muttering between all of the other members of the Resistance outside of Sonic, Tails and Gadget, who were watching concerned as they wondered whether they would agree to this plan.
Thankfully, as Knuckles stepped forwards, judging by the expression on his face, it looked like he was receptive to the idea.
“This is probably going to be our best chance. All in favor of going to Prison Island and finding a cell door to convert the storage room to a holding cell, raise your hands.”
Everyone except for Shadow and Rouge raised their hands, and although it was already clear which side won, he still wanted to go through the whole process.
“All opposed?”
Rouge raised her hand, but Shadow’s hands remained down, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.
Although annoyed at Shadow’s lack of interest in participating, Knuckles knew it was pointless to try and get him to vote, especially with how lopsided it was in favor, so he shrugged and turned to the rest of the crew.
“So, it looks like we’re headed to Prison Island. I want only a small group to go, though, since we still need most of us here for the recovery efforts.”
Knuckles quickly turned away for a moment, thinking about what to do next.
“Tails will obviously be going, as he’s the only one who can pilot the Tornado.” |
6942b1f41c894b838aadcd20020214a9 | ['2bab11a06f334ecababe6d01f3e7d0c0'] | Tony groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his head. “You’d be singin’ a different tune ‘fya came with me las’… night… wait.” He glanced around, eyes winced half-shut. “Dammit, that wasn’t a dream, was it…?”
“Apparently not.” Peter waved around at the cell. “Welcome to hell. Meals are sporadic at best and unappetizing.”
“Fantastic.” Tony rubbed his hands together. “So, how’re we breaking out of this place?”
Peter gaped at the man. “S—Seriously? We _can’t_ , dude. No bars, no windows, no way out.”
Tony scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve been in worse situations.”
“Really? _Without_ any access to your suit?” Because Peter had noticed the distinct lack of a glowing light on the man’s chest.
The billionaire scowled. “…Who says I can’t access it?”
“If you could, I think you would’ve by now.”
The man jabbed for a moment at his forearms, glaring when he received no response from his implants. “…Dammit….”
“Yep. So, again, welcome to hell, population us.”
**_When I die, will they remember not_ **
**_What I did, but what I haven’t done_ **
**_It’s not the end that I fear with each breath_ **
**_It’s life that scares me to death_ **
It had been nearly fourteen months since the John Doe was brought in to Santa Rosawa General Hospital. He was in a coma, unclaimed by family or friends, and taking up a bed in their recovery ward. The burns on his arms, legs, and chest were healed, slightly pink scars marking where the worst had been. In just over a year, there had been no sign of his waking.
Until today.
When the nurse walked in to his room to check on him, she saw him sitting up, glancing around the room, obviously confused. Her clipboard clattered to the floor.
Warm brown eyes turned towards her, and the man gave a slight smile. “Sorry,” he croaked, voice rough from a year of disuse, “didn’t mean to spook you.”
She quickly snatched up her clipboard and approached his bedside. “It’s no trouble,” she assured, clicking a pen to take notes. “I have a few questions I’ll need you to answer, if you can.”
“Of course.”
“Okay, can you tell me your name?”
“Tadashi Hamada.” His coma-slowed tongue tripped over the syllables.
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she noted his answer, crossing out John Doe at the top of his file and replacing his name. “Any family we should notify?”
His eyes went wide. “Oh, Aunt Cass! She’s probably eating her way through the café’s inventory!”
“That would be Cass Hamada?”
He shook his head. “Ah, no, um, Cassiopeia de Gaia, actually. Maternal aunt. She took my brother and I in after—” He trailed off, eyes widening again before his head whipped around to stare at her, eyes pleading. “My brother! Hiro, is Hiro okay!?”
The nurse raised her hands, palms out, trying to calm him. “I’m sure he’s fine, just worried for you. I have a few more questions yet, then I’ll go inform your aunt and brother, okay?”
“O—Okay,” he murmured, reclining back in the bed once more, “okay.”
“What is the last you remember?”
His brow furrowed as he thought back. “Ah, there—there was the showcase, and—and a fire….” He gasped softly, staring up at the ceiling. “I—I ran in, to—to help the professor get out…. My brother, Hiro, he—he tried to stop me.” He glanced back at the nurse, worried once more. “Is he here, too? Are you sure he’s okay?”
“Yes, I am.” The story was sounding more and more familiar to her, and she wrote down what he said before pausing and studying him. Finally, she sighed and asked, “Tadashi, do you know what the date is?”
He blinked at her. “Um, it’s… January 24th, right? Unless I was out for more than a day….”
The date was what finally brought all the pieces together, but to make sure…. “What year is it?”
“Uh, 2014?”
She gulped, knowing she’d now have to explain his situation to him. “Mr. Hamada, it’s actually March 24th.”
His eyes went wide, a hand running through his hair with a wince. “Ah, man, I’ve only got a couple days to get something for Hiro’s birthday….”
“Um, Mr. Hamada?”
He shook his head, glancing back at her. “Sorry, yes?”
“…It’s 2015.”
**_When we built these dreams on sand_ **
**_How they all slipped through our hands_ **
**_This might be our only chance_ **
**_Let’s take this one day at a time_ **
**_I’ll hold your hand if you hold mine_ **
**_The time that we kill keeps us alive_ **
“Did you pack Baymax’s charger?”
Hiro Hamada huffed at his aunt’s incessant questions. “Yes, Aunt Cass!”
“Did you—?”
“I have Baymax’s charger, all my tech and _their_ chargers, my clothes for a _month_ rather than just a week since you insist that I don’t know what the weather will be or where we’ll be going, my passport, my plane tickets, my project journals, _and_ three extra pairs of shoes, which is a _little_ ridiculous since I’ll not be wearing any shoes inside Baachan and Jiichan’s house, anyway!”
Cass hid a grin at the impatient look on Hiro’s face as he tapped his foot and crossed his arms at her. Finally, she gave up and lunged over, hugging him tight. “Oh, my little baby’s growing up so fast!”
“Aunt Cass!”
She released him, but held onto his shoulders, still surprised that he was now an inch taller than her. “You behave for your grandparents, okay?”
Hiro smiled back at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“And remember that Baymax needs to be in his charger during the flight.”
“I know, Aunt Cass.”
She tugged him in again. “Last hug,” she murmured, “and have a happy birthday, okay?”
He finally reached up to hug her back. “Thanks, I will.” They let go, and he kissed her cheek. “I’ll miss you, Aunt Cass.” | 28094de58468406cb83fedb6c64d9e2a | ['2bab11a06f334ecababe6d01f3e7d0c0'] | Hiro was slumped next to Ellis, and for a moment, Tadashi thought he’d failed to save his _otouto_. Then, he realized that there was no bullet wound in his skull, and all the blood there was from his previous head wound.
Tadashi breathed a sigh of relief, until he noticed the blood soaking Hiro’s left arm and side.
The bullet was lodged in his brother’s shoulder, only inches from his heart. He’d saved his _otouto_ from an instant death in exchange for a slow, painful one.
“ _Kami_ ,” he murmured, pushing himself up further to try to get a better look. His shoulder gave out at the motion, and he realized he’d likely wrenched it if not dislocated it. He shifted his weight onto his other arm, calling out, “ _Hiro!_ Hiro, _otouto, daijoubu desu ka?_ ”
His brother wasn’t moving.
“ _Hiro!_ ”
And suddenly Hiro was moaning, eyes flying open as his voice ratcheted up to a shriek. His arms twitched like they were trying to move, but between his probable concussion and the sheer amount of pain he was in, he couldn’t get them to do more.
“ _Otouto!_ ” Tadashi yelled over the screams. They slowly died out, and Hiro’s head lifted just slightly, glazed hazel eyes blinking sluggishly at Tadashi. “ _Daijoubu desu ka?_ ” he asked again, repeating in English as the boy just continued to blink. “Are you okay? Hiro? Hiro!”
Banner came out of nowhere. Tadashi had forgotten the other man, thinking him to be downed from the strike to his nose. But no, he was up and had pulled Hiro up to his feet, gun tilted up under the boy’s chin. Blood dripped from the criminal’s nose and over his mouth, dripping down his chin and into Hiro’s hair.
And Hiro was smiling. Honest to God _smiling_ that goofy, just-got-gummy-bears, I-got-what-I-wanted smile. The concussion must’ve been worse than Tadashi thought if Hiro was this delusional.
The gun twitched up, forcing Hiro’s head a bit higher, and Tadashi tensed up. “Let him go,” he demanded.
Banner shook his head, globs of viscous blood splattering to either side. Hiro was starting to catch on that something _not good_ was happening, brow furrowing slowly as the glaze over his eyes faded a bit.
“ _Let him go!_ ”
“ _Shut up or I’ll shoot!_ ” Banner barked back, jabbing the gun further into Hiro’s throat. The boy coughed, then tried drawing in raspy breath after raspy breath.
For a moment, Tadashi wondered if Hiro’s asthma, which hadn’t bothered the boy in nearly two years, had come back due to all the stress, but then he looked a bit closer. The gun was being shoved into his throat, more specifically, into the pulse point on his throat, restricting blood flow to his brain as well as cutting off his oxygen.
Tadashi needed to get the gun away. Once more, he ran numbers and angles in his head, knowing that just working on his own would get his brother killed, but Hiro was in no shape to try any of his own self-defense tricks. They needed a distraction, Hiro needed to get out of the way.
The elder Hamada caught his brother’s eye, trying to relay as much love and concern and calm as he could while also getting across what he needed his brother to do.
Hiro’s eyes crossed a bit, brow furrowing for an instant once more before smoothing out, glaze finally fading entirely and breath becoming a bit more even. Hiro’s head bobbed just slightly, eyes crossing briefly again but quickly refocusing as Tadashi nodded back and pushed himself to his feet.
Hiro dropped.
Tadashi bolted at Banner while he was put off-balance trying to hold Hiro’s deadweight. A quick roundhouse brought the man down, and Tadashi tugged Hiro free as his little brother blinked up at him and latched onto his arm.
It was a prank the two had pulled on their aunt, more so Hiro than Tadashi, when they were being lazy. Hiro would play dead or fake sleeping to be carried up the stairs, and Tadashi was usually the only one able to see through it. Aunt Cass still fell for it nine times out of ten, and Tadashi knew to predict it as soon as Hiro had nodded at him.
As Tadashi dragged them behind the table for safety, the police finally stormed in, shouting for “ _Hands up! Weapons down!_ ”
Tadashi yelled out, “They’re down, but my brother needs an EMT!”
An officer was soon crouching before them, studying the two carefully and shining a light in their eyes to check for brain trauma. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tadashi Hamada, and my brother’s is Hiro.”
“Do you know where you are? What day it is?”
“We’re at the Lucky Cat Café and it’s November 9th.”
The officer nodded. “How long has your brother been unconscious?”
Wide-eyed, Tadashi frantically looked down at Hiro, seeing that, sure enough, the boy was out cold. “Oh, _kami, sh—shiranai_ , I—I don’t know, he—he was awake a minute ago—”
“Mr. Hamada, Mr.— _Tadashi_ ,” the officer called out, laying a hand on the elder Hamada’s shoulder. “If he was awake just a short time ago, he should be fine, we’ll get him out to the ambulance once they bring in a stretcher.”
“R—Right,” Tadashi murmured, “th—thank you.”
“No problem. Now, Tadashi, I need to know all you can tell me about your and your brother’s injuries.”
**_Burn everything you love then burn the ashes_ **
Cass intercepted the boys at the ambulance, latching onto Tadashi in a fierce hug. “Oh, thank God!” she breathed, head dropping onto his shoulder. “I thought I’d lost you!”
Tadashi smiled sadly. “We’re okay, Aunt Cass.” He hugged her back, then sighed. “Well, we _will_ be.”
The brunette pulled back to arms’ length, studying Tadashi’s face carefully before noticing one of his arms was in a sling. “Oh, God, Tadashi, what happened?!” |
cf8859819d054a859662df831249486a | ['2bcbf43a8f5547009fd221bb9428ea1a'] |
Countdown
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
Eric knew; as time passed, things changed. And he was okay with that.
Sept 1
Eric: Good luck on the ice tonight!
Jack: Thanks bottle :) you too
Jack: *bittle
Sept 13
Jack: Hows rans holding up as captain?
Eric: Haha! Nervous but good!
Jack: Tell him I said hi
Oct 3
Jack: Chowder’s first shutout was on the news last night
Eric: MY SWEET BABY GOALIE!!! We’re all so proud!
Eric: I’ll tell him you saw the highlight reel!
Jack: :)
Oct 15
Eric: You were great tonight! Tough loss, but good game!
Jack: Thanks bittle.
Jack: the guys all played hard. I could have done better tho
Oct 21st
Eric: good luck on the ice tonight!!!
Jack: Thanks
Oct 28
Eric: what r u doing on halloween?
Jack: Away game
Eric: Ok. good luck!!
Nov 19
Eric: Looks like another #Hausgiving this year!
Jack: Sounds fun, happy thanksgiving
Eric: you too! :)
Dec 8
Eric: Happy Hanukkah!!!
Dec 14
Eric: Are you going to Montreal for Christmas?
Jack: I have a game on the 24rd
Eric: Oh yeah! You guys are playing at MSG! I’ll be watching!
Dec 24
Eric: Merry Christmas Jack :)
Eric: Good luck on the ice tonight!
Eric sat on the couch in his living room in Madison, bundled up in a pile of fleece blankets and throw pillows from Walmart. He had the volume on the TV turned down for a commercial break, and he peered through the hall to see his mother, perched at the dining room table, meticulously constructing another piece of her famous christmas village. Normally he liked to help her, but when he told her that Jack had a game, she just nodded and smiled and shooed him away.
His father stepped back into the living room with another glass of eggnog and sat back down in his worn leather lazy boy.
“Did I miss anything, Junior?” His voice was warm and gruff. Maybe he’d had a few _too many_ glasses of eggnog this Christmas, Eric thought.
“Nah, Coach, just the commercials.” Eric kept his eyes on the screen as the ESPN logo flashed across it again.
“Jack’s been doing well this season, dontcha’ think?”
“Yeah, all the guys are super proud of him. He really earned it.”
“The kid’s been through a lot in his day.”
“He sure has, Coach.”
“But he’s still a fine athlete through and through.”
They were fairly quiet after that. The game went on. It wasn’t as exciting as was expected. The Falconers lost 3 to 2 in the third period but overall it wasn’t a huge upset. The cameras zoomed in on Jack shortly after the final buzzer as he tugged off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow, gliding alongside the boards. His eyes looked sunken.
When the post game commentary came on, Eric pulled himself up from his cocoon. He stretched his arms up like a cat and let out a yawn.
“I’m heading to bed, Coach.”
“Alright, kiddo. See ya in the morning. Say goodnight to your mother.”
Eric bundled his blankets and pillows into a big wad and balanced it in his arms.
“Alright, Coach. G’night.”
“G’night, Junior. Merry Christmas.”
As Eric stepped into the hall, his mother turned around in her chair and gave her son a warm, sleepy smile.
“Goodnight, Mama,” Eric said, barely turning her way.
Suzanne tisked and shook her head. “Dicky, what has gotten into you?” He stopped shuffling towards the stairs and shamefully peaked over into the dining room. His mother’s arm was draped around the back of the chair her other hand fiddled with the stack of cards on the table. She chuckled a little. “It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t even find the good sense to give your Mama a hug and a kiss goodnight?” Eric hung his head low and hugged his blankets tighter to his chest.
“I just don’t fell well is all,” he mumbled, shifting his feet across the rug. Suzanne pressed her lips tight for a moment and looked her son up and down.
She sighed. “Alright, Sweet Pea.” She motioned with her arm. “C’mere, at least give your Mama a Christmas kiss before bed.” Eric smiled and stepped over to her, leaning in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Eric smirked, “I thought kisses were for New Years, mama!”
“I know,” Suzanne replied smugly. “And I’m sure you’ll be getting your fair share when New Years Eve comes around next week.”
“ _Mama!_ ”
“Oh Dicky!” She laughed, rubbing his back gently. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but when have I ever been wrong about such things?”
“It’s fine, Mama. Goodnight.” Eric turned and made his way back out to the hall.
“Merry Christmas, Baby.”
“Merry Christmas, Mama.”
Eric stomped up to his room and shut his door before plunging himself into his comforter and pillows. He took out his phone and held it close to his face, opening up his texts from Jack. He’d seen Eric’s last text a few minutes ago, but he hadn’t replied. Eric let out a sigh and set his phone on the bedside table, then curled up in a ball and kept his eyes shut, waiting for a buzz or a beep. It never came.
Dec 27
Eric: Happy Holidays, Jack!
Eric: I dont know if the boys told u, but we’re having new years at the haus this year!!!
Eric: If you’re not busy, I’m sure everyone would love to see u! I think Shitty is even coming! | b01202984c88489e8f6f28d965d90847 | ['2bcbf43a8f5547009fd221bb9428ea1a'] | Suddenly they were hugging again. This time, Jack took notice of how fiercely Bittle clung to him, how strong he was becoming, and how loving and tender each press of his fingers was into Jack’s side.
“You mean a lot to me too Jack!” Eric’s voice was muffled in Jack’s shirt. “I don’t care if I have to hide or if you’re away all the time, all I want is to be with you! I know that must sound silly but it’s true.”
Jack smiled a big warm smile and held Eric back in his arms, looking down at him and chuckling. He rubbed a big palm across the small of Eric’s back and the smaller boy blushed even more. “You’re so sweet, Bittle… I—“ Just then, Jack was interrupted by the count down beginning. 10, 9, 8…
Jack stuttered, swinging Eric back and forth a little bit in his arms. “Do… do you wanna try and make this work?”
Eric smiled as another tear ran down his face. “I… I… Yes, Jack. Let’s try.”
“Ok,” Jack grinned. 7, 6, 5… “Do you wanna…?”
“Oh!” Eric jumped a little, shuffling on his feet. “This is my… my uh… first time, I suppose.”
“Your first kiss?”
“…Yes…” His voice was soft and low, and he stared down at the floor, embarrassed.
Jack let out a warm laugh. “We’ll just have to make it special then.” 4, 3, 2…
Jack leaned in and scooped Eric up into his arms. The younger man squealed as the clock struck midnight and cheers erupted from downstairs. Jack’s mouth was warm and wet, and he was trying to move his lips but Eric felt lost. He kept still and let Jack trail kisses from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.
“Wow, haven’t done that in a while,” Jack was out of breath, panting but smiling. “I hope that was good for a first one, eh?”
Eric was blushing even harder now. He could feel how warm his cheeks were, how quickly he was breathing. He could feel the tension in Jack’s muscular arms as they gently held him aloft. Jack’s face was so close, his eyes bright and blue, but no longer piercing. Just… happy.
“Happy New Year, Eric Bittle.”
Eric chuckled and playfully smacked Jack’s cheek.
“Happy New Year, Jack Zimmermann.”
Epilogue
Nov 18
Jack: Hausgiving this year?
Eric: nah
Eric: I have something better in mind ;)
“So that’s how you remember it, eh?” Jack smirked at Eric from across the table. “I personally remember you blushing a lot more.”
“Same goes for you, mister!” Eric shot back.
“Boys settle down!” Suzanne struck a spoon against her glass playfully. She smiled and nodded to her son. “That was a lovely story, Dicky. To think, your mother was right all along!”
“ _Mama!”_
“Right about what?” Coach asked, patting his lip with a napkin.
“Right about Dicky getting a _New Years Eve Kiss!_ I’ve told you boys time and again, a mother is always right about such things.”
Eric chuckled, “Well, you would have been wrong if Jack hadn’t been to embarrassed to put my present in my own room.”
“I wasn’t _embarrassed,_ I was just forgetful!”
“Tell that to poor sweet baby Chowder!”
The whole table erupted in laughter. A year later, and they were still making it work.
Dec 24
Eric: miss u baby :*
Jack: miss u too <3
Eric: good luck out on the ice tonight!
Eric: Coach and I will be watching!!!
Jack: thanks bitty :)
**Author's Note:**
> Disclaimer: I’m aware the NHL takes a break for three days in honor of the holiday, but I figured the NBA does a Christmas day game (also usually at MSG, which I’ve been too before and is very fun), AND I found an article about how the Rangers USED to play on Christmas Eve (even though they were away games) so I figured this isn’t too crazy to make up for the purposes of this story. Also, I’m totally in the camp of “Jack celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas,” ‘cuz I mean, c’mon, his Dads side of the family is the Zimmermanns. Enjoy! |
b1a08be3ff944616b3878990e4add35a | ['2bcf0cd08a054b73b20b86f3b04a9827'] | Given his son’s leap in height, Sakumo had quickly suspected that he had somehow been summoned through time as well as space. It took longer to realize the same held true for Kakashi and his teammates. And the weight of how long Konoha had aged felt surreal—as did this meeting. It made sense that Sarutobi sat working behind his desk with minimum attention on the group—the village had been attacked and relevant reports were coming in. It also made sense to have them all examined by the medic nin who initially looked over the shinobi that Jiraiya had laid on a futon at the other side of the office. An exam from a strange civilian that involved a stick waved at each of them, made less sense.
Obviously the stick was part of some sort of jutsu, as a floating scroll filled with rōmaji in response to each wave. When the rōmaji quit filling the scroll, the civilian tapped the scroll with the stick. It dropped into her hand. Sarutobi looked up expectantly. The woman absently brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear as she studied the contents. “Well, Hokage-sama,” she said, a strange accent to her words. “Their _base magic_ readings—”
“What’s basu magicu?” Kakashi’s Uchiha teammate asked.
The woman turned to him. “It’s how your energy resonates with the world around you. In your case, it tells me that you are all native to this world and not one that holds alternate versions of the people in this one.”
“Other mes exist?” Minato asked at the same time Kakashi said “Seriously?”.
“It’s a hypothesized possibility,” the woman said off-handedly. She turned back to her report. A minute later, she sighed. “Unfortunately, they are all unmoored in the timestream—they have no connection to their native time. Normally for such a sizable jump, cutting their connection to now would return them to when they disappeared. In this case, there’s no way to know when—if at all—they would reemerge.”
“I see,” Sarutobi said gravely from behind his desk. “Thank you, Prewett-san. You may go.”
“That’s it?” Kushina asked. “What about how we _do_ get back?”
“I’m afraid you don’t,” the Hokage responded. He wrote something on the paper in front of him. “The means Prewett’s people use to turn time cannot be recreated in this world. I know of no other technique to transverse time.”
The weight of that statement hung in the room a moment before Minato cursed. “Our disappearance must have caused problems for the war. We were a day away from taking a critical mission.”
“Won it fourteen years ago, Sensei,” a voice mumbled. A second later, the same voice said “ _What_!?”
Jiraiya helped the injured shinobi sit up, with murmured instructions to take it easy. Sakumo barely heard him as he stared at an adult, one-eyed version of his son. Face mask included.
A version of his son only seven years younger than Sakumo.
Sarutobi cleared his throat as he grabbed another report off the pile on his desk. “As I was about to say, you didn’t disappear. You completed the Kannabi mission, though Obito fell in battle.” The Uchiha flinched at Sarutobi’s words. “All of you—"
The office doors opened, and three genin walked in: another Uchiha with spikey blue-black hair and a scowl on his face, blond boy in orange with the Uzumaki crest and a pug ninken in his arms, and a girl with her hitai-ate on her forehead, but tied under her short, pink hair, which gave it a feral look. She had white circles on her red outfit. The blonde looked about to say something, but the Uchiha nudged his attention to the adult Kakashi.
“—Bar Kakashi, have died by this time,” Sarutobi continued as the genin gravitated to Kakashi’s side. “Our Kakashi interfered with a jutsu intended to reanimate and control the dead. I believe it resulted in your being brought here, while another version of you stayed in the timestream.”
“How can you be certain?” Kushina asked.
“It’s the conclusion the evidence supports,” Sarutobi said. “And while I’d normally be happy to discuss it in depth, I have to attend to the village’s recovery. I’m assigning Kakashi and Genin Cell 7 to help you adjust to our time. You will stay secluded in the Hatake compound until—”
“No!” The Uchiha on Kakashi’s team stepped forward. “Forgive me sir, but my grandmother has already lost my parents and uncle. I can’t let her think I’m still gone.”
The adult Kakashi sighed as he stood. “Obito, sit down.” Kakashi walked to one of the chairs in front of the Hokage’s desk.
“She deserves to know,” The Uchiha ignored the adult Kakashi as he slid the chair over to him. “Please, sir!”
“Obito—”
“Damn it, Bakakashi!” Obito whirled, his fists clenched. “You don’t what it’s like to have someone depending on your return!”
“She’s dead!” Kakashi snapped back. Obito’s face paled as Sarutobi face palmed. Kakashi’s eye widened. He cursed. “That’s not how I should have told you. I didn’t mean to—”
“She’s gone? How?” Obito demanded.
Kakashi sighed. “There’s no good way to tell you this, but five years ago your whole clan, except for Sasuke here, was massacred by their star prodigy before he fled the village.”
* * *
Obito found himself sitting in the chair. His elbows rested on his knees as he stared at the floor. Kakashi—the one with a voice too deep and hands too large—stood by his side and talked him through deep breaths. Minato came to his other side. “Did you have to dump the massacre on him too, kid?” a voice said from across the room. “Couldn’t you give him a day or two to adjust?”
“And what, Jiraiya?” Kakashi’s voice snapped back in his ear. “Lie so he could have the shock of her death twice?”
“You could have neglected to mention that anyone else had been killed.” | 74062c79a40440178829a854fa460cc7 | ['2bcf0cd08a054b73b20b86f3b04a9827'] | Jason nodded in acknowledgement as he walked around the corner of the house. He absently registered JJ’s following. The backyard looked as neat as the front, with nothing out of place. All the windows were covered by blinds or curtains, and the back door was locked. Gideon sighed as he surveyed the back lawn, as immaculately landscaped as the front.
_They must have a lawn service,_ Jason thought absently. _No way is Hotch home enough to keep up with this..._ He turned to the short space between the house and garage. Like the rest of the property, there was nothing to suggest foul play.
Except Hotch's conspicuous silence. Morgan might joke about not answering his phone over vacation, but Hotch took his duty too seriously. Jason sighed and walked over to the kitchen door. The top was glass, and the lock looked easy to force from the inside...
"Hey Garcia," JJ spoke, startling him. Jason turned to her. The blonde agent was a couple paces behind him, staring at a basement window as she talked on her phone. "I need you to… HOTCH IS _MISSING_! Now, I know you’re focused on catching whoever hacked your system, but we know he accessed our team’s personnel files. I need you to go back and see if he altered Hotch’s current location, before we do anything drastic like break into his house… No, we’re here now, and his cell’s going straight to voicemail since last night. So unless they’re out of service range… Probably the same unsub who sent the head to Gideon… Yeah, an actual human head... From Jamaica… It’s all over the office… Well I assumed someone had… We think it goes with the body at the resort Elle and Morgan went to… Reid got a strange message in Vegas… You’re sure… Okay… Well, it’s possible they’re all running errands. Can you look up Hayley’s vehicle and put out an APB…? What really?” JJ asked as she pulled out a pocket notebook and pen. “Where… If it’s on the street, why… _Oh._ Do you have a number…? Possibly. We’ll check it out… Thanks, Garcia,” JJ said after she finished writing something down. “You’re the best… I’ll let you know…”
JJ hung up and turned to Jason. “Garcia found no sign of tampering, but Haley’s new SUV came with a free portable GPS. It’s in Maryland, just over the DC border, and near a house owned by Haley’s sister. _She_ doesn’t have a landline, but cell service disruptions have been reported in the area since last night. He probably just doesn’t know his battery died.”
“Thank God,” Jason sighed. “You have the address?”
JJ tore the sheet out of her notebook and handed it to him.
* * *
As Gideon drove down the street, neither agent noticed the living room drapes pull to the side.
* * *
Elle Greenaway knew she was being bitchy, and wanted to reveal in it, despite the voice of logic that said she should try to keep her head. She had barely gotten to sleep when the Jamaican police had burst into her room and dragged her out of bed. They had kept her in this over air-conditioned interrogation room ever since, handcuffed to the damn chair still in her sleepwear—black camisole and panties, _not_ something she ever planned on being publicly seen in—and she had to pee. Badly. Not that she intended to tell the annoying detective that, even if she could not quit bouncing her leg. The stupid jackass would not believe that she had nothing to do with the murder. Honestly, who saw an obvious blood trail to a bloodless hotel room and called it anything other than a pathetic setup attempt?
“Who’s the victim?” the man folded his hands together and set his arms on the table.
“For the hundredth time, I didn’t even know that there _was_ a victim UNTIL YOU _DRAGGED ME OUT OF BED_!”
“WHERE’S THE VICTIM’S HEAD!?” the man demanded, matching her raised voice. He leaned over the table.
“Well, I must have dropped it on the way in here,” Elle said sarcastically. “Come on! You know that I had nothing to do with this! I’m an American FBI agent. _I’m here on vacation, man_!” Elle sighed as the last of the angry energy faded. “I’m the police, just like you.”
An officer came into the room and dropped a file in front of the detective. The man opened it as the officer left. “Are you the ‘her’?”
“Excuse me?” Elle asked as the detective slid the folder across the table, tapping on the photo on top. Clearly of the crime scene, it had the words “save her” written in blood over the headboard. “I hope not,” Elle frowned. “Though if this unsub’s delusional, I suppose it’s possible that he thought leaving a blood trail to my door would prompt you protect me from… something.”
“Unsub?”
“Unknown Subject of Investigation. Many US law enforcement groups use it instead of ‘the subject’.”
The detective nodded. “And you arrived in Jamaica yesterday?”
“That’s right,” Elle confirmed.
The detective proceeded to inquire about everything she did since her flight landed. He inquired thoroughly about the guy she had met over Frisbee and then danced with at the resort--and anyone who might have paid overmuch attention to the both of them. Finally, the detective asked, “What time did you go to bed?”
“Around midnight… I think.” Elle found herself shaking her head at that. As a trained agent, she really should be able to trace her own steps better. Just how strong were those umbrella drinks, anyway? “I don’t really know. It was late.”
“Were you alone?”
“By the time I got back to my room, yeah.”
“Did you hear anyone or anything before you fell asleep?” |
e51365e847194865a136ed9bcd285bd1 | ['2bda196711244ef0ba2bae25a1f04443'] |
Someone's Hero
**Author's Note:**
> Hello everyone.
> I've been in this fandom silently for a long time and I've thought about writing this story for months.
> I don't know why but today I have finally found the courage to write it down.
> I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspelt words, English is not my first language and even if I love it with all my heart and have studied it for most of my life there could still be horrors.
> It's a bit (okay, a lot) cheesy and the plot is pretty simple but I needed to write. Okay, I'll shut up. Thank you
It has been a long day. Will can feel the heaviness of it all on his limbs.
All he needs is to go home to change into his pajamas, eat something and just relax. Just like he had done a lot of times in the past, during all those years he had lived alone, by himself, apart from that period of time in which MacKenzie had been part of his life.
Today is not so different from the past, really. He gets to change, eat and relax just the same as in the past but something has changed.
He’s not alone anymore. MacKenzie is back in his life, has been for a while, she’s his wife now. Wife. A word that sounds still new and full of wonder to him, even after years.
His wife has changed his life in many ways both privately and professionally. He likes to think of her as his personal savior, the person who has made him a better human being. Will would do anything for her, he would jump from a building without even blinking if she asked.
They had to overcome a lot of obstacles before being able to live their “happy ever after” and even that at the beginning it was filled with difficult moments.
Like that time he went to prison because he wanted to show her he was a good journalist, the kind of newsman she could be proud of. As if she needed proof of that.
Charlie’s death had been another low blow to their life together. Charlie had been a support, a boss, a confident, a friend for the both of them and for Will he had also been the father figure he never really had.
The months that followed his death had been really difficult for the entire newsroom that had to go through a period of transition. Will had to get used to the fact that Mac wasn’t his EP anymore and Jim had to take responsibilities he had never had before in his life. Mac was the one who had to change her work routine completely, though. She was the new president of the news division of AWM. It was quite something. She also had to fight on an everyday basis with her boss. She still has to.
They’ve made it nonetheless. Together and with their friends.
He suddenly finds himself in front of his door, the door of his big two-stories house in the suburbs with a large backyard, a medium-sized pool and a garage.He opens the door, closes it and shrugs his coat off.
Mac is still at the office, she told him an hour ago to go home, that she would follow him a bit later.
The lights are on and clattering sounds and smell of food come from the kitchen.
“Donna, I’m home” he says rather loudly and he hears the clattering sound stop and after a few seconds a woman in her thirties appears from the kitchen door.
“Welcome back, Mr McAvoy I was preparing your dinner. There’s still time before it’s ready though, so why don't you go change?” She says.
“Good, well, I’m gonna head upstairs, MacKenzie will arrive soon” at that she nods and disappears into the room.
Will decides that it’s time to enjoy one of the best moments of his day, and heads upstairs with a smile on his lips that turns into a grin the moment he reaches the second floor.
He opens the second door on his right gently and enters the room and he is welcomed by a shrieking sound and a little body that crashes into his.
“Daddy, Daddy, you’re home!” an over-excited little boy says loudly with delight.
Little Charles William McAvoy is dressed in his pajamas and is clutching his favorite stuffed toy, a panda plushie he named Mr Pandaboom. Bright blue eyes shining and rosy cheeks framing a wide smile that reminds Will of MacKenzie every time.
Will immediately sinks to his knees, not even minding the pain for a second, to take the boy in his arms.
“Hey Champ, are you okay? How was your day?” He manages to say after kissing the child’s head.
Little Charlie is the most beautiful thing life could give Will. Even after five years of fatherhood, he can't still quite believe that this little ball of joy is his. His and MacKenzie’s. He was so scared the day he learned they were having a baby, so scared he would not be a good father after what his own did to him. He spent the months of the pregnancy listening to Mac telling him he was not John, that he would make a wonderful father and that their baby was so lucky to have him.
The moment he held Charlie in his arms for the first time he understood immediately that she was right, as usual. He wasn’t his father. He would never be. He vowed he would always protect, help, and support the tiny pink bundle he was holding in his arms. Forever.
“Yes Daddy, Miss Havisham made us talk about our favorite heroes today” the kid says smiling.
“Yeah? Who did you talk about? Captain America? Or was it Spiderman this week?" The boy laughs while Will caresses his light brown hair. | 5859d0a0dc254d29888068702d399dcc | ['2bda196711244ef0ba2bae25a1f04443'] | “No Dad, I talked about you” Will stops moving his hand and trains his eyes on the boy’s, an exact copy of his own.
"About me? But Sweetie, I’m not a superhero” he says softly, mechanically starting to caress his son hair again.
"You are Dad! Richie agreed too. You are on the telly, you’re kind, you always buy me ice-cream when we go out together, even when Mommy says not to” at that he giggles.
“You always play with me and help Mommy with the house. You are a hero for sure. I want to be like you when I grow up” Charlie concludes.
Will feels his heart warm up and swell with love. Until a few years ago he thought he would never get married or have a child and he could not imagine that if he had, his kid would love him as much as Charlie did. He never thought he would be someone’s hero. Not after his own childhood and issues. Still, he had been wrong all along. John had been wrong all along. He was not worthless or unlovable. He was capable of loving and being loved in return. He had a family and was able to take care of it.
“Well my boy, you sure deserve an ice-cream for all those things you said about me. Tomorrow?” He almost whispers, trying to contain the emotion the kid had given him without even knowing. Maybe one day he’ll be able to explain to Charlie what those words have meant to him.
“Yes! Tomorrow! When will Mommy be back? I miss her” Charlie says with a yawn
“Soon, she’ll be home soon. I think it’s bedtime for you, little mister. What about we put you into bed and later I’ll tell Mommy to come here to give you a kiss while you sleep?” “Okay Daddy” He agrees, suddenly visibly tired.
Will stands up with the boy in his arms. He carries him to the bed, tucks him and Mr Pandaboom in, gives his son a kiss on his forehead and turns the lights off.
“Goodnight, Monkey. Daddy loves you very much” Will whispers.
“’Night Daddy, you too” Charlie replies almost asleep.
Will turns toward the door and finds Mac leaning on the doorjamb with soft eyes and a smile on her face.
Will moves to kiss her on her forehead, takes her hand and leads her out of Charlie’s room, closing the door gently behind him.
“How long have you been here?” He asks.
“Enough to hear our son say you buy him ice-cream behind my back” She says with a smirk. Of course she would answer like this. She knows what Charlie’s simple and innocent words have meant to him. She knows how he must feel at the moment and wants to give him the time to recover by himself.
He smiles back at her and for a few moments neither of them move or do anything.
Will clears his throat.
“Dinner must be ready, why don’t you go give Charlie that kiss and then come downstairs?”
“Yeah, let me kiss my little prince goodnight” She says standing on her tiptoes and giving him a quick peck on the lips. With that, she moves toward Charlie’s room.
Will goes downstairs feeling full. Full of love. It’s something that has only happened to him during these last years and tonight is special. Tonight he is someone’s hero.
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on Tumblr: www.theworldinabook.tumblr.com |
410e8545c1aa4192a5d615ea0f7264a4 | ['2be313830a934edb933ff38458005af7'] | The wind began to pick up as Jim walked down a street adjacent from where the abandoned flat was, he had the jacket zipped up to his neck and his hand shoved into the pockets. One was gripping onto the phone as if it was someone's hand. He so wishes it was, just so he wouldn't be alone. The words from the note kept running around in his head; Just survive for a few days before I can come get you. I love you. SM. I love you. Someone loved him... But if they loved him, really loved him why was he alone? Why was he abandoned in this strange place without anything. Just a phone and scribbled note. He pulled out the phone just to look at the background image again, the small vibration it had when the device turned on gave Jim a rush of excitement now. Knowing what would appear once the little white apple faded away. He smiled like an idiot, that beautiful smiling face looking right at him gave him butterflies.
Jim walked as he gazed down at the illuminated picture as if it held the answers to the universe and didn't even mind the cold burning his fingers. But he didn't pay attention where he was going and bumped into a stranger passing by, dropping the phone onto the pavement. Anyone would've thought he dropped a baby with how Jim reacted. He all but shrieked and grabbed the phone, gasping in pain when he turned it over to see the glass had cracked across the screen. He swiped over it and the jagged edge cut his thumb. His entire body was shaking as he held the broken phone, the black screen looked like a death sentence than anything else. He ran back to the road his temporary home was on and didn't stop until he was crawling through the hole in the back wall and could pace around inside as he waited for the phone to turn back on.
His hands were still trembling as he pushed the power button again and prayed to whatever God was there that maybe, fucking maybe the phone wasn't so badly damaged. Jim nearly dropped the phone again when it began to flow and he felt the faint buzzing. He laughed and felt tears prickling his eyes, just to be so happy to see that smiling face behind the tiny cracks in the glass. Even if it was broken and a little discoloured now, he didn't care as long as he could see SM's face. Jim gripped the phone in both hands as he sat down on the disgusting trash covered floor but he didn't care. Tears streamed down his face as he held the phone close to his chest. He was so happy, so completely relieved that his phone turned on and he didn't feel so alone then. In that moment it was like someone was holding onto him, in that moment he wasn't just surviving.
It had been three days now, the note said just a few days so it had to end soon. He'd be with SM again and maybe his memories would come back soon after he saw him. This would end soon, it had to. He promised. SM promised he would come back and find him. Take him home.
4. Chapter 4
It wasn't over. He wasn't home. It had been five days since he dropped his phone and now he had seven percent battery left. Jim had kept his phone off for the majority of the last few days after accidentally sleeping with it on. He was panicked now, starving, so thirsty and was filthy. His face was dusted with dirt and sweat stained, his jeans were getting stiff and he felt like his stench was radiating. The man could hardly get up let alone running the streets looking for something to eat or some way to recharge the battery of his phone. He just sat on the makeshift mattress and thumbed over the broken screen not caring if it cut him or not.
"You're coming to find me." He whispered to himself, alone in the dark. "You're probably looking for me right now SM. I should've stayed in that room." Jim shook his head and laughed quietly, "You're going to be so mad when you see where I've run to."
He took out the phone and smiled at it, seeing himself in the reflection but not quite registering who it was.
"I love you. I promise I won't run anywhere else again. I'll wait right here and you'll come find me." Jim smiled, kissed the top of the phone and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead on the edge of the mobile.
When he looked out again the light was getting dusky, and he supposed one look wouldn't hurt. Jim turned the phone on and waited impatiently to see the somewhat disfigured image of his love. The phone's light flickered and seemed to struggle. He turned down the brightness only to see a blinking red light by the top right corner.
**Five percent left.**
"No... No don't go." Jim gripped the phone with both hands. His eyes burned into the glass as he tried to look into his lover's.
"No you can't go. You're looking for me. It's time to go home you can't leave without me."
**Four percent left.**
"No! Don't go!" His voice cracked as he shouted now, "SM you can't! You can't go! Please..." He jumped up and ran to the broken out window, "Someone please! Help."
Jim paced back and forth looking down at his dying mobile and practically sobbed as he watched the percentages fall, feeling helpless.
**Two percent left.**
"Don't go. Please. I won't run anywhere I promise. I'll be right here. Don't go don't leave me all alone again. Please. You're all I've got i-" | 211fbfdceb1a469495eceff06e339638 | ['2be313830a934edb933ff38458005af7'] | "You blame me. You blame me for this, for all of this I know you do. I can see it, because you're sad that I'm like this but you aren't - you aren't..." Jim put his hands into fists at the sides of his head and groaned, "There's something you're not feeling that you should be. To me. You're sad that I can't remember but you're angry because I can't remember you."
"Don't tell me what I'm angry about." Sebastian snapped, making Jim's eyes dart up as if startled at the raised voice. "Sorry - I just - I am angry but that isn't a conversation we have to have now."
There was a heavy silence between them now, falling over them like snow killing the once green grass they'd spent the day on where this picture had been taken. Slowly going brown and dead, soggy soppy mess of mud under unforgiving boots ruining everything. Jim took a few long breaths and stood up.
"I'm hungry."
"Okay." Sebastian looked up at him and nodded, "C'mon I'll make you something." He sniffed and stood up to lead Jim downstairs to the kitchen.
It was beaming with light compared to the other room which only really had the outside evening light coming through windows and a lamp or two but when Sebastian turned on the lights here it bounced off the marble counter tops and the stainless steel appliances making it gleam and glitter. Jim sat down on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island, remembering the story about them running around it with a knife and tea-towel. He watched as Sebastian began getting things out of a very stocked fridge and he frowned again as he was thinking.
"Why's the fridge so full if I haven't been here for so long?"
"Because I live here." Sebastian said as he put two pieces of bread on a plate before buttering one side of each.
"Oh. We lived together." Jim nodded as he watched.
"Mmhm," he put each piece on a the grill pan making the butter sizzle then he added cheese and Italian meat. "We've lived together since we were fifteen, only moved out once before I was deployed because we thought it would make it easier since I'd be gone so long."
"Was it?"
"No, we moved back in together three days later and spent every moment together before I left."
"How long were you gone?" Jim asked as he reached over and took a slice of salami from the package.
"First tour was eighteen months, but I was in the army until I was thirty. We'd have time in between of course. From a few weeks to two years once. Best two years...we rented a house in Mexico and lived there for a year, just on the beach, eating the best food, having the best sex..." He grinned and turned the stove down some so the cheese would melt but the bread didn't burn.
Jim nodded and just watched him.
"I've been waiting on you to ask me if I've seen anyone since you - since this happened." Sebastian said with a tight jaw and unwilling to turn around.
"Why would I ask - I suppose it would've been normal to ask that. Had I remembered. You're going on habit."
"Yeah."
"Have you?"
"No."
"Okay."
There was silence again, just the low hum of the appliance being on and then the scratch of a spatula under the toasted bread as Sebastian took it off the grill and placed it onto the plate for Jim.
"I have." Jim said quietly.
Sebastian couldn't say he was ready for that admission but wasn't entirely sure if Jim meant it.
"I let a lot of people have sex with me for money. I'm sorry." He stared at the plated food and reached out to take it.
There was a twisting knot in his stomach now, because just fucking to feel someone near you was one thing but he didn't think - didn't even imagine that Jim had to find some way to make money. To sleep in a bed for a night or two. Sebastian felt like his throat was closing up and he thought he might get sick just from the thought alone.
"That's- " Sebastian paused, hands tight fists, "that isn't what we meant by 'be with anyone'...that was - that was surviving."
Jim crossed his arms around his body and nodded, "I don't think I'll ever want to do _that_ again."
"You never have to." Sebastian reached out and touched Jim's hand but he flinched and pulled it away.
"No I mean," he swallowed, "I don't want to do _that_ again. At all. I don't want to have sex again."
Sebastian nodded, he couldn't blame Jim for that, he didn't know what he went through out there for seven months, all alone. Sex wasn't everything. He'd gone without for a while now so... but still. They had this connection, like nothing he'd ever had with anyone else. It was like their own language without saying a word. He watched as Jim slowly began to eat and just sat there on the other side of the island, wondering what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. If he'd ever get in there again, or if he was lost to Jim now, just the one who promised to save him after a few days but was seven months late. |
1987773c51a44dd2aea62b8bad69ae77 | ['2bf632c911354848b6ccd4f74620e067'] | Naruto’s eyes widened quickly as he rushed to grab pair of scissors in his back pant pocket. He looked at it in his palm, the silver metal reflected and his eye twitched. If he gave this way then he had no weapon anymore to defend himself. It was a shit replacement, but it was better then nothing he guessed...
It all happened in less then a minute and Naruto walked back in, sweat dripping down his temple as he tried to act as natural as possible. It was hard, knowing he had something like that in his house while also a wanted criminal that was basically taking OVER his house.
Sasuke’s dark, gleaming eyes were instantly on him again, he could feel it. They were almost predatory as the man wouldn’t look away from his face. Naruto shuttered as he paused and turnt towards the man’s direction. Then Sasuke spotted the glimmering silver of the scissors in Naruto’s grasp, his attention was alert.
“I—I.. it’s just scissors I ordered to help cut down the plants...” Naruto said, biting his inner lip. It was a habit that he couldn’t control, but he just hoped the excuse was good enough.
Moments passed by before Sasuke pushed himself off the counter and strode straight towards him. Naruto gulped, never feeling more intimated in his life. ‘Fuck, I should of known it wouldn’t work...’ He panicked right just before Sasuke stopped in front of him.
“Hand them over.” It was tense and Naruto felt like Sasuke was ready to attack at any moment. But as soon he shakily dropped the scissors into Sasuke’s hand it felt like a knife suddenly cut the tension and it was okay.
Sasuke eyed them effortlessly and quick before just putting them in his back pocket. He barely even looked at them but then suddenly, “They’re too sharp for cutting plants.”
Naruto froze, his breath rapidly jammed in his throat. Oh shit.
“You got the wrong type, those are for cutting hair.” He finished off and Naruto almost felt like floating to the gods to thank them personally.
“Y-yeah I didn’t know that ... oopies..” Naruto chuckled nervously, hand rubbing the back of his head. Sasuke paused suddenly and eyed him intensely. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t feel the need to entertain the issue.
The atmosphere was then plagued by silence and serenity. Time was going by increasing slower every hour and Naruto, a natural fidgety and restless person, felt like he was literally going to die. He was commanded to stay downstairs and not to go anywhere under any circumstances, while Sasuke had disappeared without saying anything else. That was almost two hours ago and although the television was blaring, he should be hearing his old boss looming around and floors creaking, but nothing.
Watching cartoons (the only thing Sasuke let him watch for some reason) on and on repeat was making Naruto wish he’d still be sleeping tied upstairs again. He had pup Kiba as company for a little bit, but he wasn’t much company after curling up and drifting off on the couch. His cell phone was in his room upstairs and he doubted Sasuke would tolerate him using it.
Naruto sighed into his knees, wincing a bit as sometimes he’d lean his knees too much into his bruised cheek. His hands clasped and unclasped together, playing around with his sweatpants cuffs and covered toes. He yawned tiredly and stretched his arms outwards, rubbing his face like a cat into his knees. It felt smooth, and warm... comforting. The opposite of his current situation.
Naruto opened his eyes gently, eyelashes blinking softly as they adjusted to his surroundings but his eyebrows quickly burrowed in confusion. It was dark around him suddenly, and the only source of light were the flashing images from the television. He groaned as he put his legs back to the floor stretched his arms.
‘Oh fuccck...’ he yawned, grasping his stiff neck to massage it. Then flopping his whole back, he stared monotony at the cartoons, feeling like he was going to drift again. Whole different show— whole different time. He had fallen asleep.
Naruto moaned in annoyance, he didn’t even know the time anymore, but the sun had went down a while ago judging by how gloomy it was around him. But quickly, a glimmer in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Naruto glanced over to look at the silver zipper of a pitch black coat that was folded neatly on his coffee table.
Naruto recognized it right away, it belonged to Sasuke. A jacket that expensive, and big was obviously his old bosses. As well as who folds a damn coat?
But a sudden thought made Naruto’s cheeks flush and eyes burst wide. That meant he was sitting beside him while Naruto was sleeping. That was a clear analysis as also beside the coat was a half full glass of water. Sasuke was with him.
Subconsciously Naruto’s hand slithered under his hoodie and grabbed straight over his heart, which was beating a million miles per hour. It was a calming way of feeling in the moment. It felt good... to know that Sasuke wasn’t completely disgusted by him or anything of the sort. Naruto paused and almost felt like rolling his own eyes at his thoughts, he was such a little school girl it almost made him feel sick.
A vibration of a buzz behind him grasped Naruto’s attention unexpectedly and he glanced behind him, seeing the light of a phone come on for a few seconds before switching off. “That’s not my phone... is it?” Naruto muttered softly, dumbfounded. | d753d1f242694054af116dd5d55edaa8 | ['2bf632c911354848b6ccd4f74620e067'] | The dark, gleaming eyes of the criminal wouldn't turn away from his face and body, he kept silent although Naruto had spoken. It was almost like he was analyzing Naruto's reactions, his features. Was he looking for weak points? Naruto thought. He wouldn't find it while he was clothed but it still made Naruto extremely uneasy.
The man stood up all of a sudden, and Naruto couldn't hold back the small hiss of relief when the cool air hit the bruising spots on his face.
The man scanned around at all the possible hidden spots in the small bedroom, from the cracks in the ceilings to the little odd placing of the couch and wardrobe, his stance was still tense as if he waiting for something to attack him at any moment, eyes darting all around the place.
On short glance, Naruto carefully peeped at the man to quickly see what he was up against, he hadn't had a proper look before when he was in a state of panic. From the pale moonlight coming out of his window, his eyes spotted a glimmer in his trouser pockets that sparkled back at him.
'Knife..' Naruto figured out instantly. So the man obviously had another weapon on him. Naruto couldn't see more from the darkness, and he was wondering where the man put his gun. He bit his bloodied lip and took small inhales. He had to relax or he knew he'd freak out again and it wouldn't end well this time.
Suddenly the man turnt to him.
"Do you live alone?" Simple and short, but rough and guff.
Naruto thought about lying. Yes, his big buff dad or whatever was coming back in 10 minutes and he could beat your ass. But there wasn't a point. The criminal would just kill him and move on to try find another safe spot as soon as he knew trouble was coming.
"Yes it's j-just me and my dog."
Turning around on his heavy boots, he firstly closed the curtains as it was dark out and he didn't risk anyone from the forest peeking in. He paused before reaching for the light switch, Naruto watched carefully, and then the criminal turned around to stare directly at him. He could almost see his eyes turn red. Naruto felt is heart skip a beat.
His eyes narrowed down. "You know what the deal is when I turn on the lights right?"
Naruto knew, he want stupid. Although he could see the built and basic features of the man, he wouldn't be able to describe to anyone actually how he looked like, facial features wise. He could obviously see, dark haired, tall, strong man but that's like almost half of Japan already.
"Y-yeah.." Naruto still couldn't catch his breath properly and it didn't help when he tried moving his hands. Fuck the duct tape hurt, it tightened into his wrists and ankles every time he moved.
With the switch of the lights, his version became blurred and extremely bright, him being beaten minutes before didn't help and it took him longer to get used to the lights then usual. He couldn't swipe at his eyes with his bound hands so he ducted his head down into his lap and started blinking hard like an idiot.
It got suddenly silent. Too silent. Naruto could almost even hear the running of electricity in the wires to switch on the light and the spark of the bulb. But he didn't hear the man move anymore.
Fuck. Naruto knew this got even worse, he could choke on the tension in the air. He didn't want to look up and his head was sagged down. He brought up his knees closer to his chest instinctively as soon as he suddenly heard those heavy steps saunter towards him till they stopped in front of him.
Naruto started to panic inside again, his breathing was definitely getting heavier but he couldn't stop it.
But he stop breathing altogether when a big, rough hand sat right on top of his head. Slowly, it crunched into a grip, grabbing onto Narutos blonde locks like a vise and pulled it down, forcing his head to rise up. And it did eventually. And Naruto found himself staring right into the criminals depthless eyes.
He tried to hold back a gasp, he really did, but he couldn't stop that look from going across his eyes or face. It was written in his body in a second.
The sapphire eyes widened unmeasurablely with bewilderment and his mouth started to instantly gape open, his breathing coming to a halt. But it was wasn't just for the him, he could see it in the mans eyes, the way the little dark slits turned thick with disbelief but then returned to their normal state and the way his shoulders tensed immensely. He knew too.
Naruto recognized those depthless, dark eyes. The glistening, yet cold and dark metallic, rivaling the most polished suit of armor. They were cold, they were mysterious, they belonged to him.
"M—Mr.Uchiha ..?' He almost keened out and cringed at how high his voice had just gotten.
No way. No fucking way. This is literally something from his nightmares. This couldn't be true. Uchiha Sasuke, his past co-worker and eventual boss from a company he worked up in (and had a little crush on) was right here in front of him, on his middle-of-fucking-nowhere house, holding his bashed up head and he was now convicted as a murderer?
He heard how the man hissed when he heard his name being said. This shit got worse. Naruto sort of knew about him already, he had data on him, even if Sasuke barely spoke to him. He knew about him. Now Sasuke truly couldn't even risk taking him out of his eye sight. |
a5fe486bc6e0425899d69522c8e43086 | ['2bfbff7fb46a4fc28915f8f699cedf2a'] | The sun was still high in the sky, the clouds a lurking grey and the birds chirping loudly, echoing through the trees. Despite how peaceful the sky looked, it definitely contrasted with the forest itself. Himchan pulled out his phone, biting his lip when he saw that he had no signal, especially with how far away he was from Youngjae’s hotspot radius it made sense. The time read 1 PM and Himchan let out a quiet groan. He continued walking, pocketing his phone and leaving notches in the trees.
What else could he do besides continue to go further away from all of them?
* * *
“Yongguk! Jongup! Junhong! Youngjae!” Jongup whipped around when he heard his name, raising his brows slightly at the sight of Daehyun. His face was flushed, beads of sweat gathered at his temple and he looked angry. Jongup turned to look at the others, who’d been gathered around the empty fire pit and watched as they all turned their heads to Daehyun, his gaze back on the shapeshifter.
“Why’s Himchan not with you?” Yongguk asked. The vampire flickered his gaze back to the older man, realizing that this was the first he’d heard of Yongguk talk about Himchan all day.
Daehyun seemed to scowl at the mere mention of Himchan’s name and Jongup worried his bottom lip, feeling his suspicions rise back up. He’d squashed them down when Himchan didn’t smell like a human anymore, but it was still there, the everlasting question and doubt. He couldn’t confirm, as he’d never met another merman before so he could confirm that they did indeed smell like humans – a smell that was so utterly _bittersweet_ and _sour_ to his nose. They never smelled like anything different. They always smelled sour and bitter, with the undertone of lingering sweetness.
“Himchan’s gone. He ran off like a _coward_ and fucking _traitor_ he is.” Daehyun spat, venom lacing his tone. Jongup watched as the shapeshifters brows drew together with fury. Daehyun didn’t even give them a chance to reply, stunning them all into silence with his next phrase. “Himchan’s a fucking human, can you believe that? He went 26 years like that and fooled all of us into believing he was one of us! What the fuck!? Who knows what he could have had in mind! He could have been fooling us in order to…in order to kill us or something! My parents were right about humans after all, they’re fucking scum.” Daehyun’s chest heaved after his rant, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
Jongup didn’t know what to say now that his suspicions were answered, but it definitely seemed like the others didn’t believe Daehyun.
Youngjae laughed nervously. “Daehyun, how would you even know Himchan’s a human? It’s not April Fools…”
Daehyun threw his hands into the air, frustrated, Jongup assumed, that none of them were listening and believing him. “Fuck! Youngjae, just- He’s a human! An _ubume_ fucking exposed him and they only target humans!” Junhong flinched and Jongup wanted to reach his hand out to touch him on the shoulder in silent comfort. Too bad the ghoul was sitting next to Yongguk, away from him.
It fell quiet, the only sound being Daehyun’s ragged breathing.
Jongup swallowed softly, timidly adding his own thoughts. “…I believe Daehyun. I…I had a little bit of a feeling he wasn’t a monster, since when I first met him he smelled like a human…”
Daehyun set his gaze on Jongup and the vampire flinched slightly under the scrutinizing gaze, seeming to shrink slightly when everyone’s eyes fell on him. “Why didn’t you say anything, Jongup?” The shapeshifter asked, tone accusatory. Junhong finally stood up, his form towering over Daehyun’s slightly, his grey eyes narrowed.
“Don’t talk to Jongup like that.” The ghoul said through grit teeth. Jongup reached his hand out, tugging on the back of Junhong’s shirt to get him to stand down. Junhong turned his head, looking at the vampire and then sitting down next to him this time, his head bowed slightly. They didn’t need to fight, especially with this situation.
Jongup swept his gaze across all of them, catching their questioning eyes. “I didn’t say anything because I’ve only known him for a few weeks compared to you all. It didn’t feel…right to say something like that about Himchan.” Yongguk gave a short nod and Jongup felt slightly glad that the older agreed with him. Something about Yongguk agreeing made him feel calm – everything about Yongguk made people want his approval.
“Jongup’s not wrong, Daehyun…”
Daehyun opened and closed his mouth, looking to Youngjae for some support. Jongup looked between them, seeing Daehyun’s frame waver slightly. The shapeshifter had been raised in a household that taught him _humans are bad_ and that was why he hated them – or so he’d learned over the course of being in the group of friends. Youngjae seemed to be the only one who shared his views of them, with Yongguk and Himchan more open about their distaste for the abuse of humans; though, Junhong seemed to agree with Yongguk even if he was less vocal about it. Of course, now it made sense, why Himchan would go silent whenever they talked about humans. Jongup on the other hand, didn’t particularly have an opinion on humans. Sure, they didn’t deserve to be treated like dirt, but they were also his source of food.
“Humans…they’re trash. And…And Himchan’s one of them now- no, he’s _always_ been one of them.” Daehyun finally sat down on the log bench, his hands rubbing his face. “Himchan…He lied to us about _everything_. What if that apartment he lives in isn’t actually his and he doesn’t actually live there? He’s been fucking us over for so many years, aren’t you guys angry?!” | 9175613c21f949b79733913d013b5fd7 | ['2bfbff7fb46a4fc28915f8f699cedf2a'] | Seungwoo nods and wraps his lips around the straw, sipping slowly before pulling away. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I must have spooked you.” The younger man laughs, it’s nervous and quiet, and shakes his head. “It’s fine, hyung. Thank you for inviting me out again. I…really like hanging out with you.”
Now is his chance, isn’t it?
They both open their mouths at the same time and shut it simultaneously. Seungwoo laughs loudly and motions for Seungsik to go first. “You first.”
Seungsik shakes his head and smiles, “No, no, you first.”
“Okay.” Seungwoo breathes in slowly.
“I like you.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Dun-Dun-Dun! I wrote this really late last night so I'm posting it now oops
6. Chapter 6
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is tooth-aching fluff, thank you
> it's also a rare glimpse into Seungsik's view so :)
_“I like you.”_
Seungwoo falters. He swears he hears two people say it. The older man looks to Seungsik, who’s a delightful shade of red, opening and closing his mouth. He wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Because he definitely heard Seungsik’s voice say it too.
It’s Seungsik who says something first, breaking the silence between the both of them. “I…I like you. Too, I mean. I like you too.” He pauses and fidgets with his fingers before blurting out, “Let’s date!”
Seungwoo is still slack-mouthed, unable to word anything because Seungsik _likes_ him. Seungsik really, truly does like him. There’s a swell of happiness building up in his heart and it bubbles out before he can hold it back. “Yes. Sure- Yeah, let’s date. Fuck, I’ve been wanting to say this for so long. You’re so _cute_ Seungsikkie, did you know that?”
Seungsik hides his face and laughs, although it’s more of a giggle and Seungwoo finds that cute. He finds everything about Seungsik cute and absolutely endearing.
“You’re cute too, Seungwoo hyung. I like you so, so, so much.”
The two of them are all smiles and laughs for the rest of their short outing. Seungsik hiding his face behind sweater paws every time Seungwoo says something that makes him laugh loudly, his cheeks hurting from how wide he’s smiling. Seungwoo too. They’re both red in the face and stumbling over words as their drinks run empty. Seungwoo doesn’t want to end this…well, date now, anytime soon.
Seungwoo thinks he really, absolutely cherishes Seungsik and his slightly loud, overexcited voice and his laughs and he wants to kiss him so badly.
But he doesn’t.
Seungwoo stands up first and grabs their empty cups, motioning for Seungsik to do the same. They’ve been sitting there for almost an hour, sharing meaningless words (that Seungwoo hangs onto and memorizes – from Seungsik’s favourite colour to his favourite animal) and compliments (Seungwoo’s head is full of images of Seungsik going red and stuttering). “I’ll..uh, drop you off at home?”
Seungsik shakes his head as he stands, sidling close to Seungwoo as they walk to the front doors, the elder tossing their empty cups in the bin. “I took a taxi here since my car is under repair.”
“Then I’ll hail a taxi for you, how about that? And pay for the fare home.” Seungwoo compromises, his smile soft and gentle. Seungsik is startled by how _ethereal_ Seungwoo looks, kind and soft, like an angel. He smiles in return. “That doesn’t sound bad, hyung. Thank you.”
Standing on the side of the cement sidewalk, Seungwoo ruffles Seungsik’s hair gently and hails a taxi as it comes by. “I’ll text you again later today, so we can go to the pet shop like you wanted to.” Seungwoo opens the door and motions for Seungsik to get in, sliding the driver a twenty while he’s at it.
Seungsik smiles sweetly and nods, his smile wide and bright as he gets inside the taxi.
“Sure thing, hyung!”
Sejun laughs, his pixelated face lagging slightly on the screen of Seungsik’s computer. “That’s what you’re worried about, hyung?” Seungsik lets out a sound akin to despair and covers his face, still dressed in what he wore earlier. The date with Seungwoo won’t leave his mind and there’s a swirl of anxiety pooling in his stomach.
“It’s not funny, Sejun-ah!”
Byungchan laughs in the background on Sejun’s side and pokes his head into the frame. “Hyung, you’re getting all antsy because Seungwoo didn’t hold your hand or kiss you? You guys just started going out, you’re being clingy.”
Seungsik sighs softly. He knows Byungchan has a point, but he still can’t shake off the feeling of worry. “What if he’s just playing around with me? I mean-”
“Seungsik hyung, breathe please. Has he texted you about coming to the pet shop? Speaking of which, Sejun hyung, we should get back to work too. We’ve got a few minutes left of our lunch break.” Byungchan smiles softly at Seungsik before turning to Sejun, raising a brow. Sejun huffs and nods. “What Byungchan said. Get changed, Seungsik hyung. Have fun, really. Give him some time – I’m sure he’s just as nervous as you.”
The older of the three nods and runs a hand across his face. “Right, you guys are right. And uhm, yeah he did. I have thirty minutes before I have to come over there. I’ll hang the call up then, see you guys later.” Seungsik waves and ends the call, exiting the app on his computer and leaning back. Now his dilemma is clothing.
He heads to his closet and rummages through it, wondering what the nicest (but casual) outfit he can scrounge up is. Seungsik also offhandedly thinks about Seungwoo. |
dd0f2ffdba5344a88a9c88f7a64debaa | ['2bff794e43d549c486ad4fe23384efac'] |
No Pain No Gain
**Author's Note:**
> This is a repost from tthfanfic & FF
>
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy and Angel people belong to Joss and
> Mutant Enemy. The Anita Blake verse belongs to Laurell K Hamilton. Basically I own nothing.
> Set after season 7.
> Anya lives to see another day in St Louis but not as she knows it!
NO PAIN NO GAIN
CHAPTER 1
“ANYA”… “ANYA”… Xander stomach dropped, he looked around wildly he couldn’t see her. Giles rushed up to him “Xander we have to leave NOW the whole place is going to erupt”, Xander hesitated, spotting Andrew behind Giles, Andrew glanced at him and then averted his eyes, Xander’s heart dropped - she was dead. Totally numb he hustled the girls out to the waiting school bus.
Half an hour later he stood on the edge of the crater of what had once been Sunnydale a lone tear sliding down his cheek from his one eye, any slight hope that he might have harboured was now as dead as Anya. He hadn’t believed Andrew’s explanation but in the end it hadn’t mattered she had stood with them, sacrificing her life in one single unselfish act. Her courage and strength were greater than he could have possibly realised. Out of all of them she had no real reason to stay and yet she had. She had stayed for atonement, she had stayed for humankind, but mostly she had stayed for him. He would never forget her. “Rest In Peace Anya.”
28 MINUTES PREVIOUSLY
D’Hoffryn gazed at Anya’s body dispassionately, he poked her body with one hairy horned toe. He was most displeased he had wanted to cause her death, had wanted pain, anguish, torture not this quick easy death. He stroked his chin, but wait what was this there was still a spark she wasn’t totally gone, not yet, she had perhaps only seconds or minutes left, certainly not enough time for him to exact his full measure of pain.
He snorted, “So be it Anya… I will give you what you least want or desire- Anyaka you will be again and then, then I shall have my vengeance”. He raised his hand and then hesitated, she would just run back to that boy again. Seeing what him and his oh so powerful friend had just done to the First – the so called ultimate evil, he wasn’t sure he wanted to tangle with them again. Powerful demon he may be, but he had become that way only by being prudent. He smiled nastily remembering a recent story he had heard in Los Angelas. Yes.. Yes that would be perfect.
He knelt beside Anya’s prone body ignoring the blood soaking into his rich red robes. Placing his hand on either side of her head he muttered a few incantations. Anya’s body shuddered she coughed, blood dribbling from her mouth crimson and frothy. Her pain-ridden eyes flickered open and she had just a one horrified second to recognise D’hoffryn evil smiling leer before they both disappeared in cloud of smoke.
ST LOUIS GRAVEYARD
All was quiet, the only sounds that could be heard was the wind whistling through the trees, the occasional chirping of a night owl and a bloody great crash of lightning as two bodies came hurtling out of a portal.
Anya screamed in agony, rolling over she took several deep breaths of cold night air, she had forgotten how painful being split in two was. She coughed blood and moaned as she struggled to a sitting position. She glanced at D’Hoffryn who had recovered enough that he was calmly brushing off bits of soot from his robes. “I didn’t realise how draining this inter-dimensional travelling could be”.
“Why”, gasped Anya.
“Certainly not for your scintillating company.”
“WHY”.
“I told you before my dear, why go for the Kill when the pain is oh so much more gratifying and I WILL have your never ending pain Anyaka, eventually you will beg me for an end to your suffering and perhaps my dear Anyaka I will even grant you that… but don’t count on it”, he hissed, towering over her, a scaly hand reaching out to stroke her cheek.
Anya flinched back, “I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU”.
“You should be my dear, and don’t expect that boy to come and rescue you, you are a long long way from home, can you not feel it, feel the difference here, why I could almost be at home here, and this will be your home ANYAKA, welcome to hell”.
Anya looked at him, confusion giving way to comprehension on the continued use of her old name. She raised her hands and felt her face, instead of smooth peach soft skin she felt rough blistered scaly skin. “NO, NO, NO how could you” Anya screamed and fell to the ground sobbing.
D’hoffryn threw back his head and laughed basking in her pain and in his vengeance.
“POLICE - HOLD IT RIGHT THERE BUSTER”.
“Jesus Christ Anita, what the hell is it?”
“MOVE AWAY FROM THE LADY, OR WE WILL SHOOT”.
Afterwards Anya would be hard pushed to tell who was the most shocked her or D’hoffryn, it was actually rather funny, though not at the time.
“You dare to threaten me, Mortal”, D’Hoffryn was enraged and moved towards them. | 34fa89ce9de84b0b82242404f0352552 | ['2bff794e43d549c486ad4fe23384efac'] | Anya rolled her eyes at the vampires offer, then swung her sword around catching his arm and crowing with victory as blood sprayed out in an arc. He gave an inhuman growl and came at her again in a flurry of sword strokes, she niftily kicked him in the balls, raising an eyebrow as he crumpled with a moan to the ground. Then swirled to block his companions thrust. The kid gloves were off, this wouldn’t end until death. Anya grinned manically. Blood spatters on her cheek, a bloody sword and a crazy outfit, she looked like an escaped nutter to the watching crowd.
She jumped next to a table swinging her sword before rolling away. This was fun. A flash of red hair caught her attention and she spared a quick glance for the man attached to it. Her eyes widened in shock, horrified by what had previously been hidden from her view.
“Damien??… , oh my, oh my god Damien what have they done to you”. Anya was appalled. He was tied naked face down on a table, silver chains with crucifixes holding him in place. He had been whipped, but worse than that was the blood and semen running down his buttocks. He had been poorly used, and Anya felt bile rise her throat as anger filled her. This was no longer a game.
“WHO DID THIS TO MY KINSMAN”, Anya screamed totally loosing her cool at the sight of such depravity. Her eyes glowed and with a unearthly growl she swung her sword, the vampire blinked and then slowly collapsed, his head rolling along the floor coming to rest against Marguerites feet. She stepped aside with a grimace at the thick gore now covering her shoes.
Ignoring the dead body which like the ones in the club didn’t go Pouf and dusty. She swung her sword and the chains fell from Damien with a hiss.
“Damien, Damien …..somebody hand me a blanket”, she ordered totally focused on helping her friend. “Damien……. URGHHH” she grunted, blood welling in her mouth, she looked at the sword piercing her heart from behind. The Vampire that had snuck up behind her, twisted the blade jerking her whole body. His eyes alight with malicious glee.
Nobody heard her whispered sigh of “not again”, as she collapsed to the floor. Anita screamed and Asher gasped before collapsing into unconsciousness.
The Vampire stood there in victory, as Marguerite gave him a small nod of approval, he would be rewarded tonight, rewarded well. Perhaps he would even have the little animator to play with. Smirking he reached down to pull his sword from her body. And then froze in shock.
“Gott in himmel” he exclaimed, stumbling back in horror.
Anya staggered to her feet. Her head was down turned, hair like a curtain covering her face. She grunted in pain as she reached back and pulled the sword free, then she whirled around. The Vampire had barely time to shriek in terror at her before his head joined his companions.
“Well that hurt a … lot”, Anya muttered. She had nearly forgotten how painful impalement was and this was the second or the third time this year. She made a mental note for a New Years Resolution no more sword impalements.
Slowly she began to turn to face the room, and the whole room seemed to wait with bated breath, even as some of the weres started to encircle her. Slowly her head lifted and she shook her hair away from her face.
The room exploded in loud mutterings, gasps and shocked exclamations. As they took in Anyanka in full demon mode. Everybody froze not sure quite what to make of this latest development.
“What are you”, whispered Marguerite in horror and disgust.
.
Anya surveyed the room. Slightly hurt at all the negative feedback . At least she didn’t suffer from halitosis. She held out her arms, palms up, bloody sword held aloft. Her eyes intense and flashed orange a feral snarl on her demon face. Her cover was blown but she would put on a good show.
“BEHOLD ………….I AM ANAYANKA VENGEANCE DEMON. For over thousand years I have roamed Earth. Chaos & destruction follow in my wake. Empires have crumbled at my touch, Nations have fallen, destinies changed, Kings kneel before me and demons tremble at my name. I strike terror and fear into mortal and immortals alike.” she paused dramatically.
“I AM ANAYANKA VENGEANCE DEMON and tonight I will have revenge.” She smiled evilly.
There were screams and people moved as far away as they could, some people much to Anya’s confusion got to their knees and started praying. Even Anita was muttering with a rosary in her hand. Anya shook her head in slight confusion, it seemed to be working better than she thought as she spied many of the were’s fleeing through nearby exits.
The vampires looked terrified they could taste the truth of her words, and even without her demon visage they could smell brimstone, this was truly a denizen of evil. She smelled of fire, of hell, of death. Demons and vampires did not mix well, a demon did not suffer a vampire. Marguerite looked at her in absolute fear, her mouth gaping in terror at this horror that had been unleashed.
“Jean Claude, what have you done to bring this abomination among us, Belle Morte will not forgive this”, Marguerite hissed, but she also was backing away.
“Shall I kill her first Boss or can I play with her a little first”, asked Anyanka conversationally as she swaggered forward, delighted at the effect her little impromptu speech was having on everybody.
The Travellers servant approached her, muttering prayers, a crucifix held up against her. As he sprayed Holy water against her. |
47653ff49a4e4e07ba766bdc5c4b4b2d | ['2c17679b9db5456ea0de055a032a449c'] | “At first, I assumed that it was just my imagination, that he wasn’t real. But then he started telling me things that I couldn’t have known otherwise, just little things that turned out to be true. One night he said that Corvo had escaped from prison and that he’d come looking for me soon. The next day, the twins were panicking. No one would tell me what was going on, but I **_knew_**.” Emily smiled fondly. “The night before Corvo came to get me, the Outsider told me that he was coming. Even after I was away from the Cat, he would appear now and then and talk to me in my dreams, to let me know that everything was okay and that my father was still alive.”
Emily looked Khulan straight in the eyes. “So there’s your story. That’s the diabolic tale of how I came to care for the God of the Void—at the darkest point in my life, at my most vulnerable, he took the time to reassure a scared little girl and keep her company.”
Khulan blinked. “I admit that I would never have imagined that as being the reason. Who would have ever believed that the Outsider would comfort a child?” He ran a hand over his shaved skull and sighed. “I’m sorry for prying, Lady Emily. I was just trying to understand how this happened. You were the last person who I would ever expect to become involved with black magic.”
Emily frowned at him, tapping her fingers on her desk. “After everything you’ve seen, you should know damn well that there’s a big difference between powers like what I have, or the little boosts bonecharms give, and black magic like Delilah and her witches practiced. I’m not a witch. I don’t know any spells. I’ve never done a ritual.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t even know if **_all_** witchcraft is black magic, or if there are other sorts as well. I simply don’t know anything about it except for what I saw Delilah and her coven use.”
The Empress gave Khulan a pointed look. “What I **_do_** know is that the sort of magic they were into was bad news. It hurt people. That’s what your Abbey should be trying to stop. As opposed to what you actually do, which is run around and torment average people. **_My_** people. The Overseers in Karnaca seemed quite determined to hurt people for such ‘crimes’ as accidentally stumbling across an Outsider shrine, or carrying a piece of carved whalebone for luck, or maybe drawing pictures that ‘look like heretic nonsense’. Because how dare someone draw a picture that an Overseer might not like?”
Emily closed her eyes tight and took one long, shuddering breath, then another. She opened her eyes and met his gaze levelly. “You’re a good man Yul Khulan, and I’ve always held you in the highest esteem. I would love to see more Overseers who care about people the way that you do. It was you alone who convinced me that not all members of your order were hypocrites, sadists, and murderers.”
Emily looked away, her voice growing soft and distant. “I’ve known you since I was a child, and have always thought of you with both fondness and admiration. It is for that reason that I give you warning now.”
Emily’s head turned slowly back to him. Her amber eyes **_burned_** like twin suns and Void-light danced across her marked hand. Her voice was edged in steel. “Know that I will strip the Abbey of the Everyman of their ability to commit murder without penalty. No longer will Overseers be allowed to kick in doors, and drag screaming children from their homes with impunity. No longer will the Abbey rip away the dignity and privacy of my people, and force them to live in fear. No longer will you burn heretics, or ‘put down’ children who fail your self-serving trials. You are **_not_** the law, and you are **_not_** above it.”
The Empress’s voice lowered to a menacing rumble. Power rippled through the air like a gathering storm. “To stop the Abbey’s atrocities, I will give every drop of blood from my veins and every breath of air from my lungs. If I have to personally raze the Abbey at Whitechapel to the ground, I will. If I have to halt the purification of heretics with the edge of my blade, I will. If I have to become the most blood-drenched figure in the history of the Empire, I will. Even at the cost of my life: **_I so swear it._** ”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please comment! Kind or critical, comments really motivate me to keep writing. I’m always happy to know what my readers want to see more (or less) of in my work.
>
> Thanks so much to everyone who left comments or kudos! I adore each and every one of you. It means more than you know.
7. Between the Outsider and the Deep Blue Sea
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Author’s Note: It’s been forever since I last updated and I’m certain that many of you assumed that this story had been abandoned. I apologize. Unfortunate events in my real life made it difficult for me to get any writing done, but I’ve gotten to a point where I feel like I can return to writing regularly. I won’t promise frequent updates, but I intend to post at least one chapter a month on Eyes of the Void. For those of you still reading, thank you so much for your understanding.
> | ab9d0694d59d4375b6e2e6d494788976 | ['2c17679b9db5456ea0de055a032a449c'] | Wyman had been Emily’s escape, her youthful dream of laughter and romance and…normalcy. The time to put away childish things was long past. She didn’t have time for that little girl’s dreams any longer. Before the coup, she’d frequently passed her responsibilities onto other shoulders so that she could slip off to linger in a fantasy where she was just a young woman and not an Empress. That foolishness had nearly cost her the throne. _How many people lost their lives,_ she wondered, _because I didn’t want to grow up?_ With dogged will, she shoved away her guilt. _Guilt is a weakness,_ she told herself. _One you can’t afford._
Despite all the thoughts twisting through her mind, Emily longed for the Outsider’s presence. Cryptic as he was, the sound of his voice always brought her comfort. He made her feel less alone. _You can’t dwell on it,_ she told herself. _You have an Empire to run and a city to rebuild. Your desire to talk to an eldritch god isn’t important. Your loneliness isn’t important. You can’t **allow** it to be._
Emily found her unconscious father surprisingly easy to move. _Well,_ she thought, _if nothing else, I’m physically stronger than I was before._ She idly wondered if this change was a result of the hardships she’d gone through in Karnaca, or simply a side-effect of her mark.
It took some searching, but eventually Emily located a guest room in a remote portion of the Tower which didn’t appear to have been touched by Delilah’s coven. She assumed that its location was the reason it was relatively clean aside from a bit of dust. She laid Corvo down on the bed. He had no obvious signs of injury, but he was far too pale, his olive skin ashen beneath his native pigment. She pulled a chair up to the right side of the bed to keep watch, and sat down, her thoughts focused on what her next steps should be.
Corvo was all Emily had left. If he didn’t show signs of recovery in the next day or so, she would be forced to bring Anton in to consult on the matter before the old man had the chance to skip town. Emily admitted to herself that the only thing stopping her from seeking Anton out that instant was her hesitance to reveal her own mark to him. During their time in Karnaca, she’d taken care to never use her powers in the old man’s presence, at least not while he was conscious. She was confident that he suspected something, but he didn’t know for certain. Even Anton Sokolov was hesitant about accusing an Empress of heresy. She shuddered at the thought of becoming his test subject. He’d always been **_far_** too interested in the Outsider and the Void.
Regardless of her concerns, the aged genius was the only person she knew of who might be able to puzzle out a solution to any problems resulting from her father’s absent mark. _I’ll do whatever I must,_ she decided. _Father would do it for me. But if the old man goes too far, he’d best expect a backhand. I’m **not** a lab animal. _
A swirling mass of black smoke and Void-light manifested in the shadowed corner across from her chair. The smoke pulsed before coalescing into a familiar figure. Emily’s heart fluttered against her ribs—a frantic bird beating its wings against cage bars. She blinked in confusion. She hadn’t actually realized that the Outsider could physically appear in the waking world with no shrine in the immediate vicinity. She thought of Stilton’s mansion. _That vile bitch had better not have left a rip leading into the void in the middle of Dunwall Tower,_ she thought.
The God of the Void approached Corvo and frowned down at him. “Meddling witch,” he hissed. He reached down and tapped the back of her father’s left hand with two fingers and his mark blossomed back to life. Ebony bloomed out like ink on water before pulling back into familiar lines. Purplish light rippled across the surface as the mark settled into place. Fathomless black eyes finally rose to meet Emily’s own.
“It was never truly gone,” the god explained. “Delilah lacked the capacity to actually strip my mark from anyone. My mark is bound to the very soul of those who carry it, and she could never hold power over that. She just drained the magical energy out of his body. It’s why he was so weak after you released him from the stone. Until such a time as my mark managed to re-anchor a physical manifestation of itself on his flesh, it would have continued to drain him. Now, he’ll be able to recover.”
Emily nodded, relieved. “Thank you. I was worried about what losing it would do to him.” Unconsciously, she leaned towards the Outsider, drawn to him like iron shards to a magnet.
The god gracefully inclined his head in acknowledgement of her thanks. “Feed him one of Piero’s Remedies if there are any left in the Tower, or one of Doctor Hypatia’s Addermire Solutions, if there are none. I know that you still have a few of those. It will help him recover his energy. Aside from that, only rest and time will be of assistance. He should be back to himself within a week or two, even after he insists on working himself to exhaustion in the meantime.”
Emily chuckled. The Void God knew Corvo well and was aware of her father’s stubborn nature. “I will. If they didn’t discover the second safe room, the old one, there should be some Remedies stored there.” |
3b46d590cdaa43698bc6879c9f042f58 | ['2c1c62f8019840b0b4cf753236cafe4b'] | Okay, he had to admit, she made a good point. Plus, long sleeves would not only cover the gauntlets for an element of surprise, they would also cover his skin even if he wore them with regular gloves — long sleeves were practically a necessity in parkour, to avoid giving yourself road rash or worse in the event you botched a jump or a tumble. If it was a sufficiently tough material, it would also serve as the lighter protection he had been considering for his shoulders and upper arms. If it resisted water, even better — doing parkour in the rain was a lot less fun and a lot more dangerous, not to mention really uncomfortable, and he had to imagine hero work would be even worse. He would also have to see if he could make it proof at least temporarily against likely vectors of villains’ quirks — fire, ice, electricity, acid; plus he’d need to have an idea of its resistance to regular cutting and piercing attacks. The ceratanium inserts, or maybe in a perfect world he _could_ try the shear-thickening fluid bags, in strategic spots or as a hot-swap, especially if he found himself in a position where he knew what was coming and could plan ahead. The STF wouldn’t be a good choice against knives and stabbing weapons, because it relied on the massive concentrated force of a bullet to harden; blades would slit right through and still hit him. Therefore, for general-purpose, the ceratanium would be the better choice — heavier calibers might break the plates and still injure him, but if possible it would be better to dodge higher-caliber bullets anyway. Unless he was standing in front of a civilian, then he might be wishing he’d gone with the STF that day, but the ceratanium should still protect him well enough that he would be able to get back into the fight afterwards anyway, so they really were the better choice overall…
Izuku abruptly realized he’d been muttering for a few minutes and blinked, finding the girl was now basically laying on his back so that she could reach her journal to write again. She looked down at him when he fell silent. “No more?” She almost sounded disappointed. “That was a pretty good impromptu cost/benefit analysis. I think you’re right, the solid plates are the way to go. And I know you wanted the armour on your legs to be light, but going over this, since the rest of the costume is designed around safety and combat, what do you think about a steel shank in your boots?”
She flipped several pages back in her journal and indicated the rough blueprints she’d outlined.
“I was working on this design yesterday, I call this baby the Iron Sole!” she pronounced the name in English. “See, they do the same for your kicks that your gauntlets will for punches, and I was toying with a design that would let the toe spring out in a blowback motion, either as a double-tap attack or to reduce the strain on the user’s legs.”
“That’s…” Izuku tried to picture how that would work, and concluded he’d have to see them in action before he could really understand them. “That seems like a really good idea,” he said at last. “I’ve been working a lot of kicks into my fighting style since my sparring partner is like ten centimeters taller than me — using my legs lets me compensate for his longer reach.”
“Good thinking!” the girl praised, straightening up at last and grinning like a madwoman. “Legs are usually at least 50% stronger than arms, and I bet since you’re Parkour Boy you have good enough balance not to worry about falling when you try to kick someone!”
“Yoga is pretty good for that too,” Izuku offered. “As long as we’re worried about safety, maybe I should think about a mouthguard.”
“Oh!” the girl squealed. “I bet I could build in a gas filter too; something you could wear around your neck or keep on the belt until you need it, then slap it in your mouth like a rebreather! Good thinking!”
“S-sure,” Izuku said, before it occurred to him how quiet it was. He looked around, but there was nobody else left in the classroom. “Where is everyone?”
“They left when class ended,” the girl said carelessly, closing her notebook and starting to pack up the rest of her things. “Power Loader-sensei finished up while we were talking and everybody left. I’m going to see if I can get into the design workshop!”
She skipped to the door and Izuku followed more slowly. “Um. It was nice to meet you?” He said uncertainly.
The girl froze, then turned slowly to look at him. Her earlier smile was nowhere in evidence. “Really?”
Izuku’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you mean, was it really nice to meet you?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Yes?” he said. “We didn’t exchange names or anything but… It was a nice conversation.”
In the blink of an eye, she was in his personal space again, leaning in to stare at him intently. Startled as he was, a part of his mind still noticed that her eyes seemed to have crosshairs in them, which was interesting. Maybe they had something to do with her quirk? Or it might just be a passive mutation from one of her parents’ quirks, he supposed. “Are… Does this make us friends?” she asked quietly.
Izuku tilted his head. “If you’d like to be?” he managed finally, not used to anyone besides Hitoshi really being his friend in the meatspace. | 3b844e3bf7e6411c9810e0cfc1bfc5d0 | ['2c1c62f8019840b0b4cf753236cafe4b'] | _“It’s a waste of my time to sit around making sure you don’t get kidnapped or mugged,”_ Eraserhead continued, _“And I don’t appreciate it. It hasn’t happened in several months, so let’s keep it that way.”_
And now Izuku was dying of embarrassment. Thank All Might this was a recorded video and not a live call, or he might have jumped right back out the window. Without opening it this time.
_“Chances are you’ve read your letter from UA before playing this. If you haven’t, stop now and read it.”_ After a short pause, Eraserhead continued. _“You are in a very unique position, Midoriya Izuku. You submitted a subjectively perfect written exam, answering every question and providing an enviable depth of detail in your answers regarding heroics and quirk law. As an aside, do please be aware in future that while it was not the case in the Entrance Exam, UA assignments have length limits that you will lose points for exceeding.”_
Izuku laughed hollowly. His last middle school essay on heroics law had gone five pages over the expected limit, to his teacher’s resigned amusement. It sounded like Eraserhead wasn’t so forgiving.
_“Your physical examination’s results, meanwhile…”_
Izuku sighed. Here it comes…
_“Were also very impressive.”_
What.
_“Not every hero has a quirk that favors raw destruction, or even quick movement,”_ the video said, affirming Izuku’s reasoning during the test. _“and so in reviewing the footage of the Entrance Exam, we weren't just watching for Villain Points. In general, it is not UA’s intent, nor in our best interest, to reject those who would do the right thing. That is the purpose of the Rescue Points system. Not mentioning it explicitly is a logical ruse, to see who will assist their fellows and who will remain focused only on their own success. With 45 Rescue Points awarded, you personally received the single highest number ever awarded to a single examinee. It’s also been a very long time since one of the zero-point robots was destroyed. For what it’s worth, you impressed a lot of people here.”_
Well that was something, he supposed. It would have been nicer if it didn’t come on the proviso of a rejection from the program, but he supposed he could take the inherent compliment that the pros who taught at UA thought he had a heroic mindset.
_“Unfortunately, even with those 45 Rescue Points, you were just outside of the top 40 students who were accepted into the Heroics program. It was close. This is the other reason why All Might volunteered to make a holo for you, despite your only being accepted to General Studies.”_
But then…what was the reason for Eraserhead’s video?
_“The reason for my own recording is quite similar. You’ve been dealt an unfair hand, and now it’s up to you to make the best of a bad situation. It’s true that not every hero has a flashy or powerful quirk, either in UA or in the system at large. But it may also interest you to note that while every professional hero has graduated from a Heroics course…not every professional hero necessarily_ started _in Heroics.”_
Izuku stared. Did that mean…
_“Yes, as you might have guessed, I am talking about myself. UA has been using these robotic faux-villains for a very long time. I tested well on the written exam, but I wasn’t able to destroy enough faux-villains to qualify. I also had less total points that you received in rescue points alone,”_ Eraserhead added, his eyes moving away from the camera for the first time. He looked a little embarrassed. _“It was a wakeup call that I could stand to improve myself, and when I found myself in General Studies, I was determined that this wasn’t the end. I made an impression at the UA Sports Festival that same year and was moved into an empty spot in Heroics. Life went on.”_ He coughed. _“It may also interest you that I am known for expelling students I feel have no potential to improve. I have never taught a full class,”_ he added pointedly.
Izuku felt his hands curl into determined fists. Eraserhead took the time to make this video for him. All Might had made him a personalized video as well, when he didn’t have to. Eraserhead told him that lots of the pros had been impressed by Izuku’s test scores and strategies. He could still get into Heroics.
He, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, could still become a hero.
_“That’s all I have to say,”_ Eraserhead finished, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. _“Make a good showing in the sports festival, Midoriya Izuku. I expel students with no potential, and I won’t accept a new one who has no potential. So don’t you dare let me hear you’ve given up.”_
The video flicked off. Blinking tears from his eyes and reaching back blindly, he eventually managed to grab his phone and unlock the chat he’d been neglecting.
_small might - > ‘UA? More like Yuu-eyyyyy!’_
‹small might› surprise, bitch.
‹small might› I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.
‹Riot in Red› Dude, there you are!
‹who ya gonna call› MIDO! How are you feeling??? HUG FOR YOU~╰(*´︶`*)╯
‹small might› feeling like I need to change my handle
‹small might› because I’m officially an Eraserhead stan now
‹mindfreak› i mean mood but
‹mindfreak› LINK
‹small might› he sent me a video with my UA letter
‹small might› saying that he thought I was robbed
‹small might› and I’d better put on a good show in the sports festival
‹mindfreak› no way
‹small might› I’m serious!! would I lie about something like this?
‹mindfreak› no
‹mindfreak› unbelievable
‹Riot in Red› YOOOOOO that’s sick as hell!
‹mindfreak› wait till my dad hears about this
‹small might› Dad 1 or Dad 2?
‹mindfreak› dad 2
‹mindfreak› dad 1 wont want to hear it
**_small might is now known as kokiri boi_ ** |
76a3f1d2eb1c4e0da2fd7a523e546c72 | ['2c29f3b710634acc8486e2d8012a1000'] | Light’s skin still tingled just from the thought of the piercing gaze. He was used to L watching him – it was always as if he was trying to read invisible words etched into his skin – but that look… Light should have known the conversation was heading nowhere good, really.
_“You didn’t answer my question, though. I’m merely curious,” L added innocently, fiddling his toes in a manner that seemed subconscious. Light winced inwardly, his peripheral vision moving from L’s feet to his eyes. This was not a discussion he was eager to have with anyone, especially not L._
_“Just curious, huh? Well, I’m afraid I don’t really have a good answer for you. Things just haven’t worked out between me and the girls I’ve dated.” Light went for a nonchalant shrug, hoping that that would be the end of this conversation yet knowing that L never, ever dropped a subject so easily. “They were… boring.”_
_“And there have only been girls… Interesting…”_
_Eyes widening just so, Light felt his blood draining from his body._ What the hell is the purpose of this? _With a blink, Light’s slight shock vanished from his face. “Interesting? Why is that interesting? Are you implying something, Ryuzaki?” Light cocked an eyebrow._
_L started nibbling at his thumb. “No… Merely fleshing out a theory… So there hasn’t been an incident where you’ve found yourself attracted to a person of the same gender?”_
_Light huffed, arms crossing even tighter. “What’s up with the interrogation, Ryuzaki?” he asked, tone a little too defensive for his own liking. He made a mental effort to let the tension bleed from his muscles._
_The glint that appeared in L’s eyes could mean nothing good for Light. “Oh, so there has been someone… How very interesting.” Black eyes stared almost blankly at the window._
_Light seethed. “Alright, what’s the point of all this? If this is one of your stupid Kira tests then just tell me already.” He stared at the side of L’s face until the other finally turned to meet his determined gaze._
The chain gave a quiet jingle as L rolled over, jarring Light from his reminiscing. He still couldn’t understand why L had brought up the conversation. The great detective never asked irrelevant questions that didn’t benefit him in some way. So what had he really been trying to benefit from those questions? The thought had been bothering Light constantly for the past 48 hours…
_“I’m trying to get to know you. That’s what friends do, right? Get to know each other, talk about their past relationships and troubles…” For a moment, L looked slightly vulnerable but the look was gone as soon as it appeared._
_Light shook his head. “Not like this, Ryuzaki. You can’t just do extensive research on your friends and call it “getting to know them.” It’s wrong and intrusive.” L looked genuinely confused by this new bit of information. “If you want to get to know your friends, you have to sit and just… talk it out. Not interrogate them. Wait until they’re comfortable enough to tell you about their past.”_
_Rubbing his thumb over his lips, L stared at the floor with great interest. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the experience with this whole friend business.”_
_Light’s chuckle was mostly humorless. Like with dating, he’d held up appearances with friends but they’d mostly felt like too much trouble. Light wasn’t big on sharing or getting close to people. “Not really.”_
_L’s tiny smile in return looked about as sad as Light’s reply had been._
_Once again, dark eyes turned away but this time, Light didn’t break his stare. “Why were you really asking, Ryuzaki?” he asked quietly, watching the other out from under his lashes. Something in Light’s voice clearly caught L’s attention as his head slowly turned._
_“You’re not just asking because you want to annoy me or because you’re trying to bond…” Light’s lips slowly turned into a small smirk. It all made sense now. “You’re asking for yourself.”_
_L didn’t respond, save for his ever-so tempting tongue darting out to wet his lips. A nervous gesture, Light was sure. Feeling more confident about his guess, Light advanced. Pulling his legs up onto the couch, he slowly, tauntingly, crawled across the empty cushions towards L._
_“You wanted to know if you had a chance,” he continued, voice turning huskier as he approached L, who looked like a dear caught in headlights. Light’s blood rushed with excitement, his breathing quickening. “Well…”_
_The chain jangled when Light cornered L, trapping him by resting an arm on either side. “How about I give you a clear answer?”_
_Hand tangling up in back of those scruffy, dark locks, Light pressed his mouth against L’s, the kiss everything except gentle. L made a surprised little noise in the back of his throat, causing Light’s blood to run hot._
_Long, slender fingers ran down the front of Light’s shirt as Light’s tongue pushed at L’s lips, begging for entrance. Finally, his own eager tongue met L’s agile and teasing one and he tightened his grip in the pitch-black hair, pushing his body closer to L’s…_
Brown eyes flew open, the only indication of Light’s rude awakening. His limbs felt heavy, his head clouded and worst of all, his lips felt numb. Seconds later, frustration rushed through his body, along with anger at his mind’s betrayal. If he no longer had total control of his mind then what did he have, really?
Try as he might, the dream his mind had added onto the memory was etched into his brain, feeling just as real as the actual event. Is that what he’d really wanted to do back then? Was this just some sick power thing his sleep-deprived brain was making up to cope with L’s evident superiority, constantly accusing him of being Kira? | 0cc7275047a44cca8bc49493c35a933c | ['2c29f3b710634acc8486e2d8012a1000'] |
1. Watch It, Granny
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: Alright, so this happened. Yes, I'm starting yet another story. Yes, I'm aware I'm a sucky updater. If I manage to write more to this, it will be multi-chaptered. I haven't decided on pairing yet since the timeline of it is still uncertain but I might just throw in some Destiel and maybe possibly some Frostiron, depending on the plot of everything. So basically, this is post-Avengers and as for where it stands during Supernatural, it's somewhere during mid season 6, after Sam got his sould back. I'll probably throw in a few characters from both sides but of course that's all assuming I continue. Take notice that content below is my first try at writing Sam and Dean so don't expect greatness. Okay, rant over.
>
> Edit: The summary has been changed due to a swerve in the plot. Also no frostiron, probably. Sorry. Carry on...
Stark Expo. Previously, Stark Industries' excuse to throw a kick ass party while showcasing the newest batch of weapons. Now, Tony Stark's excuse to throw a kick ass party while showcasing his newest suit. And, of course, to hire the Iron Man dancing girls.
To Dean Winchester, the whole prospect of it was bucket loads of geeky, which of course meant that his brother was practically foaming at the mouth to go check it out. Which led to a newspaper being practically shoved in Dean's face when Sam slammed the door of the Impala shut, twisting around to throw a white, plastic bag into the backseat. The bottles inside clanged when it landed on the floor and the rustle of chip bags was audible. "Check it out."
Dean spared a scathing glare in Sam's direction but still snapped the paper to make it stand straight. The headline stared back in big, bold letters and his brow furrowed as he read it over. "What the hell is a Stark?"
"Not what; who," Sam explained with enthusiasm as he snatched the paper away, flipping a few pages into it. "There. Look."
Dean begrudgingly leaned closer to see what was being pointed at. ""A Stark Industries staff member killed in a tragic accident a day before the Expo. Coroner reveals it to be an electric shock of some sorts." Apparently, the guy just... blew up," Sam recapped, turning his head to check for a reaction.
Dean pulled the paper back, green eyes scanning the article before he folded the newspaper and tossed it into the back seat. "Where'd you say this was again?" he questioned, brow furrowed. Sam was looking pretty damn pleased with himself.
"An industry skyscraper in New York. No one came in or out of the building, according to security."
"So the guy decorates the inside of an office with his guts and no one finds it suspicious."
"Guess they don't think it's worth the trouble to worry over," the younger of the two suggested, grinning widely.
"Man, these cops are getting dumber by the day," Dean breathed, shaking his head as he pushed down the parking break.
"So, New York then?" Sam asked hopefully. "We'll get to check out the Expo, right? Dean?"
Dean didn't spare a glance at his brother, instead pushing in the cassette lodged in the player. The car rumbled as it started and fingers tapped the wheel in beat to the blaring music as the car turned towards the parking lot exit, leaving the gas station behind.
…...
Tony Stark rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation, already feeling a headache forming. Of course this had to happen today, of all days. And of course, 'Death at Stark Industries' seemed to be a catchy front page headline. Fuck timing.
Pepper was suddenly back, holding a cup of coffee and Tony accepted it graciously. His office had been swarmed with police officers, nervous employees and journalists from the moment he stepped inside this morning and it seemed he was finally, finally, going to get a breather. He hated how he was never right about these things.
Pepper had barely been out the door when her head popped back in, looking almost apologetic. "There are two men from the FBI here to see you," she informed him, causing a confused look to appear on the billionaire's face. Since when did the FBI get involved in anything like this?
"Just let them in," he sighed, gulping down a bit more coffee before tossing the cup into the trashcan. Pepper nodded and the door opened fully, revealing two guys that barely looked old enough to be working as feds. One was comically larger than the other, sporting a grand head of hair and a fading bruise on his face. The shorter one simply looked like he'd stepped out of a male modeling magazine. Definitely not your average feds.
"Hi, Mister Stark? Agents Stiles and Murdoch, FBI," the taller spoke up. Two badges were flipped out but Tony was barely paying attention, his mind trying to figure out why those names sounded so familiar. Wasn't there an old show a few decades back...
"Right. Remind me, why is the FBI involved again?" Tony pushed as he reluctantly got up from his chair. The two men were closing the door behind them and it looked like a few hushed words were exchanged, the shorter of the two looking like he was scolding the other, before they turned back to face him. "I'm no expert when it comes to matters of the police but I thought you guys had something better to do than study strange animal attacks."
"Slow day at the office?" the shorter offered, grinning at his own... what was that, an attempt at a joke? They really did let anyone in these days. The glee died when he turned to look at his partner's stoic face and Gigantor cleared his throat before he spoke, his forehead wrinkled up into a look of 'I'm sorry for disturbing you.' |
47852166cae5473681551cb6f2797188 | ['2c4807fb7f534822baa7a8e1d7fe29bc'] | Work from Home
With his briefcase in one hand and his motorcycle helmet in the other, he has no real choice but to grudgingly throw open the door before he loses all his belongings. He was expecting a large crashing noise to ring through the hallway, but the atmosphere was dominated with a different noise. Something like clicking, no... _ snapping _ , and some...xylophone?
He picked up his helmet rather hurriedly, worried something was wrong, but the music swelled before he could take a step forward. At the breaking point of the pitch, a shadow slid its way on blue lion slippers from the kitchen to the end of the hallway, stopping perfectly in an exaggerated pose.
A woman began to sing. “ _ I ain’t worried ‘bout nothin’...I ain’t wearin’ na nada… _ ”
The figure danced their way to the entryway where Keith stood, completely confused.
“ _ I'm sittin' pretty, impatient, but I know you gotta… _ ”
Completely exposed in the hallway’s ceiling light now, Lance smirked at Keith’s reaction, He looked him up and down before reaching over his lover’s shoulder and slamming the door shut on the beat. “ _ Put in them hours, I'mma make it hotter…” _
Keith could hardly latch onto what the woman was talking about as Lance rolled his way across Keith’s chest. “ _ I'm sending pic after picture, I'mma get you fired…” _
That last line caught Keith’s attention. “What?” he shouted over the music to Lance, who was dancing and singing unrequitedly despite Keith’s sudden consciousness.
“ _ I know you're always on the night shift… _ ” Lance mouthed, saddening his facial expression. “ _ But I can't stand these nights alone… _ ”
Then Keith understood. His expression softened.
Lance spread his arms wide and shook his hips to the rhythm. “ _ And I don't need no explanation… 'Cause baby, you're the boss at home… _ ” Lance spun around and winked at Keith’s returned perplexion and whispered “not really”. Keith shook his head, giggling.
The background beats grew again, leading up to the chorus Keith imagined, and Lance bounced around him, lost in the music. “ _ You don't gotta go to work, work, work, work, work, work, work…” _
But before he was too giddy, Keith’s obliviousness took over. “Yes I do,” he yelled at Lance, who was too caught up in swishing his body left and right.
“ _ But you gotta put in work, work, work, work, work, work, work…” _
The lyrics didn’t make sense anymore. What did Lance want? “Lance, hey…!”
“ _ You don't gotta go to work, work, work, work, work, work, work…” _
“Lance, I’ve had enough of this song!” He was smiling and he knew it, as Lance stuck his touch out from between his teeth. He ignored him.
“ _ Let my body do the work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work…” _ Lance was awfully close then, wearing his bedroom smile with his chin raised.
Then there were hands on his ass, something Keith wasn’t really in the mood for, and he all but politely shoved the man off of him.
Lance huffed, took his iPhone out of his pocket, and turned the song off. “Dang it, man, I’m trying to be fun and spontaneous!” His wild hand gestures and tone of voice told otherwise. “Didn’t you like the performance?”
Keith was laughing. “Why _ that _ song? It’s so old!”
“You didn’t answer my question!”
“You didn’t answer mine!”
Lance rolled his eyes and wound his arms around Keith’s neck. “Babe,” he drawled. “I missed you.”
Keith’s laughter faded and he realised his boyfriend was serious. “I’m sorry.” He let his own hands trap Lance’s lower abdomen. “I had all that leftover paperwork to do…”
“It’s okay,” Lance whispered, kissing his cheek. “It’s my fault.”
“Ugh,” Keith was reminded of just _ why _ he had to stay late. “You insisted we stay in that morning…”
Lance nuzzled his face in Keith’s neck. “It was worth it.”
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading this silly little thing! | 2c689dbef1f54d1a8c93d006454aee60 | ['2c4807fb7f534822baa7a8e1d7fe29bc'] |
1. Chapter 1
There are times few and far between on homeworld that make any sense at all, Pink has learned. No one can command an army better than White. No one can control a gem like Yellow. No one can make someone crumble like Blue. These are all facts adding up to this moment. For here, as she waits for the pearl assigned to White, to finally talk about how far she has come, she is nervous, but collected. She knows what is right and wrong. Finally.
What is it those humans called it, a grandmother? That is like White. Grandmothers are filled with knowledge, experience and wisdom. Grandmothers know what to do in situations like this. Grandmothers are correct.
And granddaughters are not.
Pink almost sheds a tear at the thought, for she had been told by Blue several times that emotions are powerful things. Maybe more power will come to her if she were to act like Blue. But--Yellow, furious but static Yellow, reigned over just as many colonies. Maybe power will come to her if--
“Pink Diamond.”
Pink jumped, but was not so frightened by the sudden appearance; she was concerned with the actual one. The last time she had been here, she remembered this pearl’s glossy face and tightly pinned hair, but not the giant crack that almost consumed her face.
“They’re ready for you now.”
Before she could gather a thought, Pearl enclosed them in a bubble and they took off into the ship that belonged to White.
Is a mother better than a grandmother?
They arrived almost immediately, sadly, but Pink was ready to display her more mature findings. This meeting was of the utmost importance, according to Yellow, so it was best to act on your best behaviour.
When the bubble came down, the menagerie in front of Pink was almost too alarming to describe. White towered over Blue and Yellow, her radiance basking the room with too much light, the stars on her coat glimmering. To her right stood Yellow, glaring upon the floor, and Blue at the left, holding her own hands.
Pink’s throne manifested behind her and shoved her inside it, bringing her forward to meet the others. The closer she was, the harder it was to remember everything she had practiced. One by one, thrones became visible behind their respective gem, and they all sat down to face each other. A diamond with their colours was imprinted on the floor.
“Hello my dear diamond, how nice of you to join us,” White began, her voice radiating through Pink’s every bone. “We’ve done most of the work before you came, but there are still important marks to go over.”
Of course, Pink nearly mumbled under her breath. Of course they started without her.
“Yellow,” White turned to her right and looked down. “Will you go over the reports from the last colonisation?”
Yellow straightened. “Of course. This last colonisation of the planet Raia was a success. No hiccups in infiltrating the native’s land, nothing wrong with the planting of the cluster, and not a thing happened other than the planet’s complete destruction. My colony is complete.”
“Excellent,” White said. “Now Blue, if you could tell me about the last kindergarten on your planet Faoon.”
Blue seemed to snap back into reality, like she wasn’t paying attention. “I…w-well, the colony...I mean, the kindergarten--”
Pink watched as Blue seemed to stumble over her words, but her gaze drifted to Yellow, and something changed in her tone. She was calm then, and carried on her report. Pink was puzzled. When she looked back at Yellow, nothing had been different but a softening in her expression.
“--everything worked out. Faoon is to have its own cluster emerge shortly. Thank you.”
Blue sank a little in her chair and flashed a small smile in Yellow’s direction.
“Pink.”
All eyes on her. All attention. All the possibilities of something going wrong were finally here.
“Please tell us about your improvements you’ve made to the Yellow Army.”
She looked to her left--Yellow was frowning at her. And to her right, Blue seemed hopeful but preparing for the worst. Pink looked back up to White Diamond and noticed a faint lowering in her eyelids, like she was sinking into her fate. Pink didn’t want to let her down.
But then she remembered the question.
She sat back in her seat and pouted. “It’s fine, I guess. Yellow’s army is really, really, really, really, big, ya know? I just don’t know why I don’t have my _ own _ army.”
Yellow gritted her teeth. Blue’s face twisted with agony, and she looked up at White. The elder diamond stood, smile deceased, and her hand came up to point at Pink. “You, my darling, are not ready.” Her finger started to whurr, and a single strand of light and power came to meet Pink in the face, stinging her. “Blue, Yellow, I thought you had this under control.” Her mocking tone only made Pink’s pain worsen. She couldn’t see. “Keep your diamond in align and we won’t have any more trouble.”
Pink was shaking until she felt two hands on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, White. We’ll try harder. She just didn’t know what she meant! She’s confused!” Blue’s voice shrilled at the end of her plea, and Pink was able to surpass her pain and open her eyes. White was a foot away, standing tall and bright, seething at Blue. Yellow walked over as calmly as she could and put a hand out in their defence.
“I understand that this will not be forgiven; please, White. Give her a chance.”
“No second chance for the same mistake.” White boiled. “Do not let this happen again.” |
cb4be0377bec4b219e1cc6ec64700996 | ['2c697095b2524d03abd4fcc487538d65'] | 11. Your dinner is served
“Atsushi please wake up.” Himuro said trying to wake the giant out of his slumber.
“Mmm.. a couple of more minutes please..” Murasakibara said lazily.
“Hmm.. you wanna get snacks on the way?”
With that the giant opened his eyes and got up out of bed to put some clothes on.
Tatsuya mentally patted himself on the shoulder.
“Where are we going, Muro-chin?” Murasakibara asked while getting dressed.
“We were invited to eat dinner with your former teammates.”
“Did Mido-chin invite us?”
“No.”
“Aka-chin?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm.. I don’t know any others that would invite me somewhere. Kise-chin?”
“Mhm.” Himuro hummed then him and the giant left their room.
“So where are the snacks?”
“We will not be getting any snacks, Atsushi. You’ll get cavities from eating so many sweets.”
“But Muro-chinn!” now the giant was pouting.
“You’ll get over it now come on.”
He dragged the giant down the flight of stairs to meet Kise and Aomine.
“Murasakibaracchi! Himuro!” Kise was practically screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Kise do you really have to be so loud, I just woke up!” Aomine complained to the blonde only to be ignored by more screaming.
“But Aominecchi I haven’t seen Murasakibaracchi in so long!”
Aomine groaned.
“So what was the invite for again?” Murasakibara asked.
“I wanted everybody to meet up but it seems like you’re the only ones who came.” He said while wiping his imaginary tears.
“I’m here.”
**AHHHHH!**
“Dammit Tetsu when did you get here?”
“I was here before Murasakibara-kun and Himuro-kun came.”
“Then where’s Taiga?”
“He still hasn’t come down yet, so I decided to leave. He’ll be meeting up shortly”
“Then we shall wait then.”
A few minutes passed by in silence except for Kise who was crushing Kuroko under his breathtaking hug.
“Muro-chin I want to get snacks.”
“I said no, Atsushi.” Himuro said in a stern voice.
Murasakibara pouted once again.
“Kise how did you even find out that everybody was staying here?” Aomine asked disinterested.
“Momoi told me.”
“Satsuki… of course.”
Akashi and Furihata soon came down with a big buff security guard carrying Furihata with Akashi by their side. Once they made it down to the group the man set Furihata down who was frowning deeply. After he bowed he left the couple.
“Akashicchi you’ve made it!”
“Of course, Ryouta.”
“Hey guys.”
“Hello Furihata-kun.”
Furihata nodded. Then a silence came over the group. Of course everyone was happy to be together again but no one knew what to say. Kise would be first one to start up a conversation but not this time. Kagami soon came down later.
“There goes the, Baka.” Aomine said.
“I heard that you bastard!” Kagami yelled at the tanned man and of course they started arguing like always.
“Can’t you morons go anywhere without arguing?” Midorima asked with a frown on his face while walking up with Takao.
“Shintarou, good evening.” the redhead greeted the taller male.
“Good evening, Akashi.”
“Now that Midorimacchi and Takao have made it, we have one more couple.”
“Do you mean Kiyoshi-senpai and Hanamiya-kun?” Kuroko asked only to have everyone look at him crazy except for Furihata and Akashi.
“How did you know Kurokocchi?”
“I saw Kiyoshi-senpai last night arguing with Hanamiya-kun.”
“Ugh you mean to tell me that heartless idiot is here?” Aomine asked.
“Come on Aominecchi give him a chance.”
“I can agree, I don’t want to see the punk either.” Kagami added.
“You too, Kagamicchi?”
“Not after he almost attacked Kuroko.”
“And I’ll try and do it again.” Hanamiya said walking up with Kiyoshi with a smirk on his face.
“Yay everybody is here.” Kise said cheerfully.
_Silence._
“Why are we all staring at each other?” Kuroko asked.
“Oh yeah, I have invited everybody here to have dinner together. Y’know just to bond. Since you know, everybody is here.” Kise said smiling
“I’m so out of here.” Hanamiya said trying to leave only being dragged back by Kiyoshi with a smile on his face.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Kise.” Takao added trying to lighten the mood.
“More like a disaster bound to happen.” Midorima said pushing his glasses up on his bridge.
“I can agree on that.” Furihata said beside Akashi.
“I’ll crush everyone here if I don’t get snacks.”
“I would like a vanilla shake than a snack.”
“Vanilla shake.. reminds me of something Shin-chan.” Takao said teasingly looking up at his boyfriend who was blushing lightly.
“Stupid elevator.” Akashi muttered to himself, only to have Furihata rolling his eyes behind him.
Now everybody was bickering, blushing, kicking.. and it was such a commotion some security guards came.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked with a gruff voice.
“Oh no there’s no problem!” Kise said nervously to the guard, “We were heading to the dining room.”
“Oh okay well it’s that way, ma’am.” The man said then bowed only to hear screaming in his ear.
“MA’AM?! DO I LOOK LIKE A WOMAN TO YOU?!! HUH? WELL DO I??!”
Aomine started laughing until he was laughing so hard that he fell to floor and couldn’t breathe. Kise went on and on and on to man on how he wasn't a woman who has short hair and no breasts. Five minutes later Kise finally calmed down and had everyone follow him to the dining room.
“They better have snacks in here or I’ll crush someone.” Murasakibara said a little annoyed.
“Don’t worry Atsushi I bet they’ll have all the snacks and sweets in the world when we get there.” Tatsuya said to the giant who only had a smile on his face when he heard that.
“Stupid man thinking I’m a woman.” Kise huffed and Aomine snickered.
They made their way to the dining room and found a table that had menus and silverware that was already laid out. They sat down beside their lover and looked through the menu to see what was to eat. | 7ca90d10b9f94a2a9101fe8f0f7e89fc | ['2c697095b2524d03abd4fcc487538d65'] | Oikawa looked up confused before he recognized who it was. I mean who wouldn’t; with that ridiculous hairstyle you couldn’t forget.
“You’re Kuroo right?”
“Call me whatever you like.”
“Hmm… I should be calling you a jerk since you’re interrupting my autograph signing but hey – What up?”
Kuroo resist the urge to glare at the hazel nut boy decided to smirk, “Nothing much just walking through the mall then I saw you.”
Oikawa hummed, “I didn’t know you liked hermit crabs.”
“I guess there is a lot you don’t know about me. How about we meet up sometime?”
Oikawa pondered the thought for a moment.
“Well it couldn’t hurt to meet up and… talk. Here I’ll give you my number.”
Oikawa took one of pictures of himself off of the table and wrote his number on the front before handing it to Kuroo.
Kuroo looked the number over, “Seems fake.”
Oikawa rolled his eyes, “If I wanted to give you a fake number I would have planned to meet you tonight. Text me anytime between 1 o’clock and 7 o’clock.”
“Sure.”
*********
“Goddammit! Stupid car.”
As Kenma was walking he heard a person cursing loudly. Not wanting to cause any trouble he walked passed the man and proceeded to his car.
“Hey you there!”
Kenma turned around slowly to the voice. Kenma expected a guy who was tall and big and would probably kill but not this. There was boy who was probably around Kenma age with light brown hair. He was pretty short, almost at Kenma height. He didn’t look too happy.
“Um…”
“Hey can you help me buddy?”
Kenma looked everywhere except for the guy. Why would he need his help?
“C’mon dude, my car broke down and I need a way to the university.”
Kenma looked back at him, “Which one?”
“Nekoma.”
“Really?”
The guy frowned, “Yes really. What? You think I’m not smart enough or something?”
“N-no. It’s just that it’s a good school that’s all.”
A big grin spread over the guy face, “Yup. Only for the best that is. Now how about that ride? My classes start in 30 minutes.”
“Yeah sure.”
“Thanks. Just let me get my stuff out of my car.”
The tanned haired boy ran back to his car and got some things. He had a huge textbook and a book bag. Kenma went to his car and unlocked all doors for the guy to get in. He put Coco-chan in his lap and the dog bed in the back.
“You can put some of your stuff in the back if you like.”
“Thanks.”
Kenma started up the car before leaving the mall parking lot.
“Yeah thanks again for the ride. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come along.”
Kenma frowned, “Well you kind of forced me to drive you.”
The guy chuckled, “Yes that is true but now I’m in your car so… yeah.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence. It was kind of awkward. They were both two complete strangers and were now in the same car headed to a university. He didn’t know what this guy could do. He could be a murderer or something. Well not really. He doesn’t look like the type but you can never judge a book by its cover.
“So what’s wrong with your car?” he asked trying to start up a conversation.
He groaned, “I don’t even want to talk about it.”
“Oh, sorry for asking.”
“No it’s ok. I need somebody to vent to.”
“O-ok sure.”
He sighed, “So a few weeks ago my car was making this strange noise. I went to the mechanic to get it checked out. My friend comes along with me. The mechanic tells me it’s my battery. So I’m thinking I just need to buy a new battery but you know cars. Complicated. He tells me that the repairs are around three thousand dollars. I couldn’t believe it. I leave the mechanic thinking of all kind of ways I can get all that money. My stupid friend tells me not to worry about it. I listened to him because he said he went to that mechanic before and he lied to him. Now here I am in your car because my stupid car wouldn’t start up.”
“You shouldn’t have listened to your friend.”
“I swear Lev is so damn stupid. I could have been got my car fixed but no. He opened his loud mouth.”
Kenma eyes widened at the name. Lev? Is he talking about…
“Lev?”
“Yeah. You know him? He has grey hair, tall, annoying.”
Kenma sighed, “Yes I know him. I met him 2 days ago.”
The tanned boy scoffed, “You’ll want to get rid of him in a week or so.”
“He must really get on your nerves?”
“You don’t even know. I have known him for 3 years and I still don’t know why I haven’t kicked him to the curb. We both stay in the same dorm room too.”
Kenma chuckled, “Sounds unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant indeed.”
*****
“Thanks for the ride - hey I never got your name.”
“It’s Kenma Kozume.”
“Yaku Morisuke.”
“YAKU-SANNN!”
Kenma saw Yaku grit his teeth at the shrill voice that called his name. The voice sounded familiar.
“Yaku-san this isn’t your car.”
“Oh I’m so glad you noticed because this is all your fault.”
“Huh????”
“My car is at the mall because it wouldn’t start up. I told you Lev I should have let him fix my car but no you opened your big fat mouth.”
Kenma snickered.
Lev leaned down to peer into the car, “Kenma?”
“Hey Lev.”
“Thank you so much for bringing back my senpai in time.”
“No problem.”
“Hey are you going to playing tonight?”
Kenma rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Lev leave Kenma alone. Can’t you see that you are annoying him? Kenma you can leave. See ya.”
“Bye.”
“B-but-“
“C’mon!” |
88ab2ee8d39244d0b1277e8334f5515c | ['2ca3ecf8f20c44a28c08c5288c2bea6a'] | Eyebrows shooting up, a grin spread on his face as Isak tilted his chin up, his cheeks blushing at what he had said but he didn't take it back.
Moving forward, Even pressed a tender kiss to his lips, trying to put in all of his emotions into that single touch, hoping to convey just how happy he was.
As they moved away from each other, Even stroked a thumb over his cheekbone, Isak tilting his head into the touch and smiling at him softly.
"We should go, Lea will be looking for us," Even said, his heart clenching at the reminder of his friend. And it seemed to dampen Isak's mood as well, the boy looking down before he hopped down from the counter, glancing up at Even as he bit his lip.
"We're gonna have to tell her about us," Isak said quietly, his hands coming up to Even's chest, his fingertips pressing into his collarbones as Even's hands found their way onto Isak's waist.
"I know, we'll tell her soon," Even replied with a smile, Isak returning it and glancing down at Even's lips.
Isak bit his lip in thought before stuttering out nervously, "Do y-you wanna meet up next week?"
With a smile, Even leaned in, kissing him as gently as he could before speaking, "Of course baby, come over to mine on Monday or something."
Isak nodded quickly, a smile quirking up on his lips.
"You go out first," Even spoke after a second of silence, cupping Isak's cheek, "I'll come down in a few minutes."
Isak stood on his tiptoes, kissing Even and gripping his T-shirt before moving away, pecking his cheek gently and walking towards the door, turning his head and shooting him a smile before taking a deep breath, finally leaving the room.
With a sigh, Even leaned back against the counter, rubbing a hand over his face before running it through his hair, trying to tame it and make himself look presentable.
He turned around, taking one last look in the mirror, deciding that there was nothing he could do about the redness of his lips, or his dilated pupils before he headed towards the door. And, as he gripped the handle, all he could do was push thoughts of Lea and the sense of guilt overcoming him to the back of his mind.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hey guys!! Hope you liked the chapter, we're getting closer to the end of it now ahh!!
>
> But, if you have any thoughts I'd love to hear 'em in the comments!
>
> If you have any questions about this or any other of my fics, OR if you have any prompts/headcanons you'd like me to either put in some of my fics OR write a one shot for, OR if you just want to talk about hc's, you can head over to my Tumblr: USER
> Twitter: vandervaltersen
8. ecstasy and despair
"So, I'll come over next week then, yeah?" Sonja asked as Even rubbed a hand over his face where he lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling and sighing as he moved his phone away from his ear for a moment, checking the time.
He was just about to respond when he heard a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts and making him look towards the source of the sound.
“Fuck,” Even mumbled out as he sat up quickly.
“Huh? What?” Sonja asked with confusion seeping through her voice.
“I’ve gotta go, sorry. But yeah, I'll see you next week,” He stood from the couch, walking over to the door quickly, excitement already overwhelming him.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Sonja said quietly as Even ran a hand through his hair, making sure it wasn't a mess.
“Bye, Son,” He hung up as he gripped the door handle, placing his phone onto the small table next to the entrance, a smile already pulling on his face as he turned his hand.
Turning the doorknob, he opened the door. His grin widened as he saw Isak standing there, the light wash denim jeans he wore accentuating his curves perfectly as he bounced on the balls of his feet; a red beanie pulled over his curls, only the ends of the strands poking through, curling around the edges; his jacket and scarf wrapped tightly around him until he reached up, pulling the scarf down and revealing his broad smile.
“Hello,” Isak said softly, about to take a step forward when Even gripped his arm, pulling him into the apartment and shutting the door behind him as the boy screeched in surprise, following it by the most wonderful giggle Even had ever heard.
He cupped his cheeks, his thumbs catching on the soft skin as he caressed them before pressing their lips together firmly, Isak humming into it as he melted against him, his body becoming soft and pliant.
“Hey,” Even whispered as he separated from Isak for a moment, only to reconnect them straight after, kissing Isak’s smiling mouth, the gesture contagious and making the corners of his lips quirk up while he pushed Isak's beanie off, making it fall down.
Moving his hands down the arch of Isak's back, he cupped his round buttocks, his large hands covering it almost completely as he squeezed the muscles, making Isak whine for a moment before the boy started frantically unzipping his jacket, kicking his shoes off at the same time and pushing them off to the side. Even moved away from him for a second, helping him push his jacket off of his shoulders and pulling his scarf off, both of the garments landing haphazardly onto the wooden floor as their mouths reconnected. | 71c8a1aaaff44459880243376d13cbea | ['2ca3ecf8f20c44a28c08c5288c2bea6a'] | But Isak’s behaviour was contradictory to the state of his life. He was alone, he was clearly abandoned by the ones who should’ve cared for him the most, and yet he seemed willing to grasp at any opportunity he got at a normal life. Starved for affection, that’s what he was, and the bitterness Even tried to squash down arose once more, only this time it was because he knew that he could care for the boy far better than the man that didn’t even bother inviting him over for Christmas. His hands held more care for the first year than anyone else’s, and yet he wasn’t Isak’s choice.
His eyes trailed lower, focused on the ground as he tried to collect his thoughts, to rid himself of the emotions within him.
He didn’t understand. The possessiveness he seemed to feel was out of the ordinary, it wasn’t him, and yet it seemed to consume every fibre of his being.
His thoughts travelled back to the morning, everything he had done since he had woken up, had he taken his meds? The question wasn’t unusual, and yet it seemed to shock him.
It was almost as if his subconscious was rejecting the notion that the feelings towards Isak were a byproduct of his carelessness and illness.
They weren’t. But he didn’t know what exactly they were either.
He looked back up. Back to the overexcited boy before him, and he couldn’t help it, it was almost as if he had no control of his features.
He smiled.
“That’s great, Isak. I’m happy for you.”
Isak’s cheeks flushed even further, and Even hoped he was the cause of it rather than the harsh cold they were in.
His eyes fell to Isak’s lips, and he bit his own, as if he was trying to chase the feeling of whenever they were pressed against Isak’s, whenever he got to feel his warmth, feel the vibrations of his sweet whimpers against his tongue.
A car drove by, snow flying everywhere as Even snapped out whatever stupor he was in, and the fog surrounding him disappeared.
He watched as a snowflake fell on Isak’s cheek, and he wished it was his lips instead, but he couldn’t do that. He had no right.
His hand fell out of the pocket, the skin prickling in the cold, but it did not matter. He raised it up until he could lean his knuckles against Isak’s cheek, feeling the cold skin as he wiped the snowflake away with his thumb.
Isak’s lips parted, eyes widening at the touch, and Even couldn’t take it.
He grinned, the expression feeling fake even to him, but he couldn’t let Isak see it. He couldn’t know that Even was close to falling apart right before him.
So he did what he always had.
“I’ll see you around, then.”
He left.
* * *
**Mamma**
_ Are you coming over on Thursday, sweetheart? _
Even glanced up at where Chris was sprawled out on the other couch, phone in his hand as the other felt around the coffee table, searching for the nearly empty pizza box without diverting his eyes from the screen.
With a roll of his eyes, Even leaned forward from where he was sitting cross-legged, pushing the box over to him and letting out a huff of laughter when Chris finally grabbed a slice and started to eat.
His focus trailed back to the message, and he smiled softly as he typed.
_ Yes, mom, I’ll be there at 6. _
Dread filled his head when he saw his mom start and stop to type several times, something she only did when she was worried about what she was saying, and the second the message was finally sent Even knew why she was apprehensive.
_ Did you hear that Adam and Mikael moved in together? _
His heart dropped at the words.
He always knew they were close, in a way that him or the squad didn't always understand, and he knew how big of a deal it must’ve been for them to take such a huge step, he only wished he could’ve been there for them when they had done it.
He fell back on the couch, laying on his side and letting out a sigh as he shut his eyes, trying to calm himself and forget about what was in the past.
It didn’t matter. Not a single detail of his life before Nissen mattered. He had nothing tying him to it, only bitter reminders from his mother, but that wasn’t important.
Sonja was gone, his friends had disappeared after he snapped, and so did his old self.
Why should he concern himself with matters that weren’t part of his life anymore?
He huffed and locked his phone, knowing that the temptation to snap at his mother was far too great, and he didn’t wish to do so.
Instead, he focused his eyes on the turned-off TV before him. Staring at the screen and trying to empty his mind, to stop thinking completely.
Luckily, it seemed as if Chris could sense his discomfort, the rage bubbling inside of him at the sheer lack of luck he had in his life, and he knew to distract him.
“Even?”
The tone of Chris’ voice is strange, almost tinged with nervousness, and Even frowned in confusion, focusing his gaze on his friend who was sitting up on the couch, sitting cross-legged as he flipped his phone in his hands over and over again, his bottom lip stuck between his pearly white teeth.
“What’s up?”
Chris looked up at him and took in a deep breath as he leaned against the back of the couch, hands clenching around his phone as he pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side for a moment before finally speaking up. “What do you actually think about the bet?” |
ec2774f06e054a7a99b4b4c3aaeeb024 | ['2cc89d95ea104fdc8e677cccbef17741'] |
Lights and Cheer
**Author's Note:**
> A bit of shameless and innocent Four/Romana Christmas fluff, that which (if you don't swing that way, because even I don't occasionally) may be construed as nothing more than typical Doctor-esque mischievousness. Not related: it's the first ever Doctor Who fic I've completed, let alone published. Momentous!
“A stapler? _Really?_ ”
_Clunk._ “Really!” _Shuffle._ “Now hand it to me, please, before my arm falls off.”
“You know that won’t really happen. At the very worst, you’ll grow tired.”
A sigh. “That was purely figurative. If everything I said were taken literally, I shudder to imagine the chaos I would invoke. I said ‘please,’ Romana, so if you don’t mind —“
Romana stiffly placed the stapler into the Doctor’s outstretched hand. She scrutinised the strand of lights which dangled from the other one high above her head — the last of them, she secretly hoped; the control room was, in her opinion, beginning to look like the Messier 78 nebula. “I don’t see the point. This is the second occasion of Christmas in what I consider to be a very short period of time.”
“Time is relative; you know that.” The Doctor opened the stapler and began attaching the remaining lights to the TARDIS’ inner hull, right above the exit. He shook out his arm. “Besides, I love Christmas. It was Christmas then, and it’s Christmas again now. If you don’t like it, you can go count your coins and play with ghosts.”
Exasperated, Romana turned away and began fiddling with a spinny dial on the console. As of now, in the time vortex, the little dial had no purpose; however, she attended to it as if it were the most important thing in the universe. “I don’t know what you’re saying half the time, but I’m beginning to believe it all translates to ‘I’m completely mad, you know, so lock me away.’”
The Doctor grinned and stepped down from the chair. “So it seems. Although I find that when I’m locked away, I succumb to fits of extreme boredom and the experience doesn’t last long enough to teach me to be sane.” He paused to admire his expedient handiwork: multi-coloured lights hung in cascades around largely perforated columns and blinked merrily against the stark, smooth white of the walls. “What do you think?”
“About locking you away?”
The Doctor gaped at her in feigned offence. “Careful, you’ll hurt my feelings. The _lights_ , Romana — look at them. Really _look_ at them.”
Romana did as she was told. After nearly thirty seconds, she glanced up. “They look like lights, I’m afraid.”
“You’re no fun at all.”
“Yes, well, it’s difficult to think of fun when one is trapped by the whims of a little box. I’m still not entirely sure it’s foolproof, your randomiser. What if —“
“ _Nog!_ That’s what you need. A good _nog_.”
“I beg your pardon?” Romana took a step backward.
The Doctor tilted his head, then his eyes alighted with realisation. “Oh! My dear Romana. It’s a _drink_. Perk your ears. K-9!”
Ever responsive, K-9 manoeuvered into the control room. He wore a floppy Santa hat over his ear probes and a creative display of Christmas lights on his chassis, at the sight of which Romana felt the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Do you require further assistance with the peripheral circuitry, Master?”
“Oh, no — I’ve worked that out, as you can see.” He proudly indicated the light display.
“Affirmative. All decorations are functioning as intended.”
“Yes. Well, you see — K-9,” the Doctor stooped down to converse conspiratorially with his robotic friend, “Romana’s hideously small reserve of Christmas cheer has dried up, and she needs to replenish it before she withers away and becomes nothing more than a clump of grump.”
Romana glared daggers at the back of the Doctor’s head.
“Suggest you initiate present-giving, Master.”
“No, no — that comes much later. Preferably when I actually have presents to give.” He reached over and tightened a dimming bulb. “Do we have any nog in the kitchen? I can’t remember if I picked some up the last time we were Earthside.”
“Accessing kitchen catalogue. Negative, insufficient eggnog to be catalogued. Retrieving data on suitable substitutions: eight eggs, one liter sour milk —“
“ _Sour_ milk?” The Doctor shook his head. “Never mind. Check the pantry. I swore to myself I wouldn’t forget it this time.”
K-9’s ears twisted beneath the limp hat. “Accessing pantry catalogue. Affirmative, condition of eggnog is approved for consumption and the amount is appropriate for instigating holiday cheer. Shall I begin the serving procedure?”
“No, K-9, that isn’t necessary.” The Doctor shot Romana a tilted smile. “What do you say to a little Christmas spirit?”
Romana looked up from her useless dial. “I think it’s my duty to remind you that we’re on the run from a malevolent force.”
The Doctor stood up straight and appeared contemplative. “Hmm. You’re right; we are! Seems to me this is the perfect time for celebration; he hasn’t caught us yet.”
At this declaration, with which she could hardly argue, Romana fought hard to suppress a grin. She was only marginally successful. “Oh, all right. Admittedly, you’ve been talking about nog since last ‘Christmas’” — the quotation marks were apparent in her tone — “and I find myself mildly curious.”
“Mildly curious?” The Doctor started out of the control room; his voice echoed from the corridor. “It’s a start! Come, K-9 — to the pantry!”
“Affirmative, Master.” The metal dog wagged his antenna and commenced a leisurely stroll after the Doctor. | de464ac08fdd485e93fd0914a86e5b34 | ['2cc89d95ea104fdc8e677cccbef17741'] | “Save it, kid, we haven't started yet,” Xigbar replied gruffly. In that brief exchange, Demyx was able to form a vague suspicion that the guy wasn't a morning person.
Demyx offered him a grin. “Right! I'll go sit down.” He didn't know why he felt the need to state the painfully obvious – what was he going to do, stand throughout the whole council? - but if Xigbar had any qualms about the declaration, they would have to wait. Demyx had vanished in another swirl of black, rematerialising on the surface of his hard and ridiculously enormous chair. He tried to hide the shudder.
Within ten seconds of his appearance there, Demyx found himself shifting uncomfortably. He leaned back. _No._ Scooted to the side, his arms resting on the brace. _Nope._ Why did they have to be so solid? Demyx gave up, slumping forward, his head cradled by leather-clad hands.
“Hangover, Number Nine?” A falsely-sweetened voice tore into range above the murmurs of the others, and the moment Demyx heard it, he wanted to go straight back to bed. “Decided to drown your sorrows and poor sportsmanship, did you?”
The mage tilted his head up just enough to peer at Axel over the tips of his fingers. “We don't feel sorrow,” Demyx retorted, echoing the words given to him by the Superior. “So, I guess not.”
“Oh, good one,” Axel said, the saccharine decaying from his words. “Sarcasm. Bitterness. I like it. Please, do go on.”
Demyx moved his hand briskly to the bridge of his nose, his index finger and thumb quick to pinch the flesh, bone, and cartilage together in a painful red lump. “Leave me alone, Axel. It's bad enough you'll fight me in my -”
“Number Eight, and Number Nine,” interjected Saïx coolly, his yellow eyes levelling down at the two. “The Superior has arrived; you will give him due respect.”
Axel wasted no time in diverting his attention from Demyx, placing his hands behind his back and tilting his head downward in a small bow. Demyx's eyes widened briefly, and he mimicked the motion before glancing briefly to Saïx, who nodded. The water-wielder felt odd, wondering why he chose to look to Number Seven for approval. _Why was he looking at me in the first place?_ He felt his physical heart kick up a bit in rhythm. _Was he making sure I didn't mess up?_ He'd seen the motion of submission done, it _wasn't that difficult –_
“My Organization,” Xemnas addressed them, and eight pairs of eyes snapped up from their reverence, watching the Superior with anticipation. Demyx leaned his chin on his knuckles. “Many times have I lamented our predicament, despite our progress. There are many worlds that war with the Heartless, and few hearts have been released from prisons encased within the darkness to join the others in their Kingdom. Several of you have fought well upon these worlds, and for that, I dispense to you my gratitude.” Some of the members nodded knowingly. “It is still not enough. These armies of Heartless would grant us nothing but inconvenience were there no one to slay them. And rarely in these worlds will you find someone willing to perform that very task.”
“Forgive my intrusion,” a very well-built Nobody interrupted, “ but I have defeated countless Heartless – more than instructed, in fact -”
“Lexaeus,” Xemnas said. “I have already told you of my gratitude. That does not change our situation.”
“The Dusks,” spoke up another. He looked to be as young – if not younger – than Demyx himself. “They have killed battalions of Heartless at our command.”
“Of that I am aware,” Xemnas replied smoothly. “However, were their efforts enough, even combined with yours, we would not be holding this council. Given that, if there are no further interruptions, I will continue to speak on the subject at hand.”
Nothing but silence dared to seep in and obstruct further oration. Demyx averted his gaze when his leather squeaked loudly under his weight as he shifted positions.
“Very well. I shall be brief, as every second that feigns existence in this place must be utilised toward the achievement of this goal. The pathways of darkness have once again opened anew, their flowering worlds just beneath their reach. The Heartless have found them already, and they clamour for what we must release.” He turned his gaze to rest on the blue-haired one. “Saïx.”
The man disappeared from his seat, rising in cover with darkness next to their leader. “Yes, my Superior.”
“You have instructions for the others. Deliver them quickly, then report to me. Vexen!”
A Nobody stood – one that had been silent for the limited duration of the council – and joined Saïx beside the Superior. He gave a quiet yet respectful nod. Xemnas leaned toward the younger to murmur some sort of order, which Vexen appeared to regard with great importance as he summoned the darkness to move him elsewhere hardly a second after receiving it.
Demyx leaned back, trying to place the facts together in his mind like an awkward jigsaw puzzle. He knew of the Kingdom, he knew of the Heartless – they made him extremely uncomfortable – the “pathways of darkness” were words he never remembered hearing before, though. He eyed Saïx cautiously, watching the Nobody deliver small folded notes to each of the remaining members. _Maybe my note will explain it,_ he thought, eagerly taking it from Saïx and unfolding it to read the instructions there.
_Remain at the Castle for guard duty._
The mage blinked, then shook his head. He looked up curiously at Saïx, who he was disturbed to find already studying _him_ with remarkable intensity. “Um,” Demyx said, hesitating to recover. “What are the 'pathways to darkness'?”
Saïx's gaze softened, and he approached the ninth member without any apparent reservation. “Your instructions should not have anything pertaining to -” |
b98e66851e754733b30dacbf712990e3 | ['2cd748512a9142c5a8cd57178290fae5'] | Sofie had told me that night, when we both couldn't sleep, of what she had endured. I'd cried with her when she'd showed me the eagle marked on her body, cursing Elenwen and our mother's wretched father, wishing them pain and death. So much had changed in so little time. In months we had grown from girls into women who were hardened and shaped from the harshness of life. Still, we had giggled like we did in that little room in Breezehome when we were children when I told her about Joric. Some things couldn't be torn away by suffering, and sisterhood was one of them.
The following day, when the fire had died down and the remaining bones quietly disposed of along with the ashes in the night, Ondolemar came into town by carriage with a face as grim as stone. Relief washed over his features as he saw me loitering at the lakeside, and he rushed forward, pulling me into a tight hug.
'Thank the gods you're safe,' he said. 'Where are your mother and Sofie?'
'In the longhouse,' I answered. 'I got too hot in there, so I left. What's wrong?'
'Come back inside and you'll hear it all.'
'Alright.' I shrugged off my cloak and followed him into Highmoon Hall, dumping it at a bench on the side when we entered. Mother choked on a sob and went straight into his arms, letting herself be comforted.
'Why are you here?' she sniffed. 'What news comes from Whiterun?'
He pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. 'We're taking the Rift by force and removing the Black-Briars from the seat of power,' he explained. 'But we need all the help we can get.'
Sofie entered from the conference room at the side of the hall, and to my surprise threw her arms around Ondolemar. 'See? I'm still breathing!'
'Just about,' remarked Mother. 'Sofie tells me _you_ sent her into a fight with a Daedric Prince, dear.'
'Well...that's not exactly how I would put it,' Ondolemar objected. 'But yes, I do admit to sending her and Vindar out here. Speaking of which, where is that boy?'
'In there,' said Sofie, gesturing to the conference room. 'Annoying Joric. Vindar! Get out here!'
Vindar scowled as he appeared in the doorframe. 'I'm not a dog for you to bark your orders at.'
Sofie shrugged and grinned playfully. 'You might as well be.'
Joric emerged from the room, glancing around. 'Can I help?'
'My Jarl,' Ondolemar greeted. 'As a commander in the service of Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun, I bring a formal invitation for you to join us in reforming the powers of the Rift and the Reach.' He produced a neat scroll from his pocket and handed it to Joric, who hastily unwrapped it, letting the ribbon fall to the floor as he scanned its contents.
'You want to dispose of the Black-Briars and the Silver-Bloods?' Joric said. 'Hmph. Can't say I blame you much. But I'm afraid I have no men to spare. The battle with Molag Bal cost us much, and the last of my spare men are out hunting for Falion to bring him to justice.'
'To know we have your support is adequate for now,' Ondolemar said. 'The rest can wait.'
'What is the purpose of this mission?'
'To stabilise these regions so that we can use their forces to retake Solitude from the invading forces of the Aldmeri Dominion.'
'Hmph. Very well. Gorm!' The housecarl came thundering out of the conference. 'Get me a quill, would you?' Gorm returned seconds later with a useless, dry quill, and Joric huffed. 'One with ink on it would be helpful. Quickly now.' When Gorm came back, Joric scribbled a signature on the scroll and blew gently on it, handing it back to Ondolemar. 'Tell Balgruuf I'll offer whatever support I can afford to.'
'Much appreciated,' Ondolemar muttered, rolling the scroll back up.
'When did Balgruuf make you a commander?' Mother demanded, frowning, her hands on her hips. Ondolemar raised his eyebrows.
'You're looking at me like it's a bad thing.'
' _No_. But it's news to me. Nobody tells me anything.'
'You've been away for weeks,' he argued. 'I had to take Sofie and Vindar to Whiterun because we were too vulnerable in Winterhold, and it so happened that Balgruuf saw the value of having use of an experienced military commander with inside knowledge of Thalmor tactics.'
'Have you seen...him?'
'If you mean Vilkas, yes I have. And I told him to move on with his life. Satisfied?'
'Don't you snap at me!'
I caught Sofie's eye, and we both pulled the same face we always pulled when they started bickering. Vindar was lingering behind her, always her shadow. Joric watched on, looking bored.
'There are more important matters at hand than your personal quarrels,' he pointed out.
'Indeed there are,' Ondolemar grumbled. 'We should return to Whiterun immediately.'
My heart sunk as the realisation dawned on me that I would have to leave Morthal, and with it, Joric. For the first time in my life, I felt torn between my family, and someone I loved with equal measure.
'Sissel,' Mother said, drawing me out of my thoughts. 'Has your training been successful?'
'Yes,' I answered truthfully, glancing at Joric. 'But...'
'She and Joric are together,' Sofie blurted out. I glared at her, shocked, but part of me was almost grateful that I didn't have to find the words myself. Ma's eyes widened with surprise, glancing between us, and Ondolemar's expression darkened. I braced myself.
'At seventeen?' he growled. 'For gods sakes, Sissel. You're far too young.'
Mother sighed. 'They're Nords, not Altmer. Most girls get married at not much older than Sissel and Sofie are now.'
Ondolemar narrowed his eyes at her. 'Yes, and marry a boring old farmer, spending the rest of their precious years miserable, and dying in childbed.' | 6df4bc4eac3b4e0baf21619f229d488a | ['2cd748512a9142c5a8cd57178290fae5'] | 'None of you saw what I saw,' she hissed in warning. 'No one else here witnessed what the Crow did. Some of you weren't even alive. The Lord Regent has asked that I oversee all interaction with the book, and therefore no one is to attempt _any_ spell in here without my explicit permission. I have already decided what roles the rest of you will have. Only Sarkan will be casting any necromantic spells - ' Solya opened his mouth to interrupt, but Alosha held out a hand to silence him. ' _You_ will be using your sight magic to unpick the components of the working. Agnieszka and Ragostok, be ready to help halt the working at any moment.'
She reached in and pulled the book out. I had expected it to be a horror to behold, bound with human skin or embroidered with bones and teeth, but it looked not unlike Jaga's book, which sat in my pocket. Yet I could still feel the energy that emanated from it, and could easily believe that the Crow had poured his own essence into it. That magic seemed to try and leap out of the pages, and in a moment of twisted horror I wondered if the Crow had some sort of link to it, if it was a conduit for its master to search us, to feel out our own power.
Alosha placed the book on the desk in front of Sarkan, whose face was unreadable as he flicked through the pages. I peered over his shoulder at the messy writing that danced on the page, labelled diagrams of human bodies, horrible illustrations of half-rotten corpses reanimated to do the Crow's bidding.
'Can you handle the spells?' Alosha asked.
'Certainly,' Sarkan answered. 'Although it is a fool's errand.'
'You say that about everything,' Ragostok sighed matter-of-factly, not really a criticism - he probably wouldn't have the nerve to criticise Sarkan to his face.
'That's because letting a court full of pretentious nobles have a say on matters of magic is always a fool's errand,' Sarkan grumbled.
'Is it safe?' I blurted, and all their eyes fell on me. 'Can it - could the Crow tell if someone was using the book? Could he somehow reach us through it?'
'I...' Alosha began, as if to dismiss it, then frowned. 'I don't know.'
'If you would let _me_ examine the spells first,' Solya said. 'I could determine whether that is a possibility.'
'And what?' Ragostok interrupted. 'If it is possible, we'll have to call this whole thing off. The last thing we need is Sarkan getting possessed by an insane evil necromancer.'
'What we should be doing is locating a channel between the book and the Crow and destroying it,' Sarkan said.
'The Lord Regent has spoken,' Solya argued. 'He wants the spells tested and documented before any decisions are made, and that is what we must do.'
'Then let's stop bickering and get on with it,' Sarkan huffed. He flicked to the first page and began to read aloud. ' _General rules of necromancy: the more recently dead a body is, the more actions it can perform. Older bodies lack muscles and tendons needed for complex tasks. The more bodies reanimated at one time and the longer the reanimation, the greater the strain on the necromancer_. That's obvious.'
I shuddered. 'It's written so...simply. As if anyone could cast from it.'
'I think that was the Crow's intention,' said Alosha. 'He often used to speak of training an apprentice. He would have used Sarkan or Solya if Ballo and I hadn't stopped him. By keeping the text simple, it could be taught to a child.'
I remembered when Marek, Solya and the Queen besieged the tower, and Sarkan raised an army of dead with merely a passing comment about the ghastly nature of necromancy. He had handled that spell with ease, had known exactly what book to go for...how much of that knowledge came from the Crow, taught to Sarkan when he would have been a child?
'Here it is,' Sarkan said, pointing down at the page. 'The Dance of Death, the last entry in the book.'
'We're not testing that one,' Alosha said.
'Why not?' demanded Solya, prompting a glare from Alosha.
'It killed thousands of people!' she hissed.
'And it could kill thousands more, if we don't know how to stop it.'
'If we keep the book out of the Crow's hands, there will be no one to cast it, and no need for a counter-curse!'
'Sarkan's seen the spell now. Who's to say he wouldn't cast it?'
'Don't try my patience,' growled Sarkan, whirling on him. Those shadows gathered around him again, quickly closing around Solya, who took an instinctive step back. The rest of us recoiled from him too, suddenly and harshly reminded of his power. 'I am not a murderer. I won't trade someone's life for knowledge.'
'You mean like you did with those girls?' Solya said, narrowing his eyes, his jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to retreat further.
'You know nothing about that,' I intervened as a kind of rage ignited in Sarkan's eyes that I'd never seen before, like a dark, hungry fire. 'You didn't live near the Wood. You don't understand.'
'We are wasting time,' Ragostok yawned, stroking the black point of his beard. 'The longer this takes, the higher the risks. Let's just study the wretched thing and burn it.'
'Agreed,' Alosha said. 'This is what the Crow would want - if there is a channel, then he's probably looking through it right now. Get on with it.'
'Fine,' said Sarkan through gritted teeth. 'Someone fetch me a subject.'
5. Maria |
238b5ea13f0248569edff8d75e96a854 | ['2cfba55e04d54d7b9d352ecc8776bc93'] |
it was a train wreck but we loved every second of it
**Author's Note:**
> train wreck is a phrase i use to describe a lot of things
> including this fic
> also
> also also
> theyre all american in this
> also sorry again because i tried to stick to the shows canon as best as i could~
The 70's are a weird time in your life. You were born in 1959 to two loving parents, and you grew up next door to your best friend, Phil Lester.
Things didn't really start picking up until 1975. In June of 1975, you started dating Phil Lester. Not a whole lot of people knew, other than your group of friends and your parents. Of course, though, there was speculation, and the two of you weren't exactly low-key on the PDA.
Dates were common. Phil would toss pebbles at your window until you opened it, and he would ask you to go downstairs so the two of you could go joyriding in the middle of the night. These dates, the ones where the two of you just _hung out_ in the car, with Foreigner on in the background, and lazy kisses shared between the two of you, were your favorites.
The first time you and Phil have sex, well, it's not as marvelous as you'd like to tell yourself. It's clumsy, and slow, the two of you laugh a lot, and end up not really even having sex, instead opting for a few quick blowjobs after realizing the two of you had no fucking clue what you were doing.
The first fight the two of you have happens after Phil decided to buy you a promise ring in July of 1976. You didn't really know how to handle it, and Phil ended up getting upset with you. It came down to him saying: “If you wont wear the ring...then I...don't think we can be in a relationship.”
And then you said, “Are you serious?”
Phil had nodded solemnly. You had taken off the ring, and placed it in his hands. That night, you cried more than you'd ever cried in your life. Your friend Louise laid in bed next to you the whole night, holding you, and telling you that it was okay.
The two months after that were awkward at best. You and Phil had to relearn how to act around each other, and the two of you had to learn what was and wasn't allowed. Eventually the two of you had a long talk, and figured things out.
You had a few boyfriends over the year, but none of them worked out. One of them was with a tall, cute boy, with sandy hair and green eyes. He was horrible. He got you wasted all the time, and only really wanted you for the sex, which, of course, he never got. The other was a short, skinny kid with curly brown hair and chestnut eyes. He was nice, but you weren't feeling it.
In the summer of 1977, you ran away. Your friend, Chris Kendall, had proposed to his girlfriend of three years, and after it didn't work out, he showed up at your house, and the two of you decided to go from Point Place, Wisconsin, to Los Angeles, California.
You don't really know why you agreed to it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. You were tired of getting your heart broken, and you were tired of the fucking looks Phil kept giving you; the looks that kept almost convincing you to give in and to kiss him, and to apologize and to just get back together.
You also really don't know why you didn't just do that in the first place.
You and Chris were sitting on a beach, him watching the girl he'd been having a fling with for the past month prance around in the water, and you were just staring at all the other people. “God, I miss Phil,” you finally admitted.
Chris, who'd honestly been staring at the girl's breasts for the better part of fifteen minutes, patted your knee. “Dan, you're a great friend and all, but, like, isn't there _anyone_ else you could discuss this with?”
“I don't really know anyone else, though. I just know you and,” You made a vague motion towards the girl whose name constantly slipped your mind, “her.” You sighed. “God, everything just reminds me of Phil. Hell, that guy over there even looks like Phil.” You groaned and rubbed your eyes.
It took you a minute, but you looked at the guy who looked like Phil. “Oh my god.” At this, you got up and started running as fast as your skinny legs would carry you. “ _Phil!_ ”
You plowed into him, giving him a bone crushing hug. He returned the hug with equal vigor. “God, I missed you so fucking much.” This was the first time you heard Phil's voice in about two months. Honestly you almost started crying. (Who are we kidding—you _were_ crying.)
“What the hell are you even doing here?” You asked. “Why are you here?”
“Because I...I'm a fucking idiot and I still love you? God, I'm such a horrible person and really I came here because I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend again but I don't really expec-” That was all he was able to get out before you pressed your lips against his.
Three days after your sappy reunion with Phil, the three of you went home.
Your parents weren't happy. Oh, _hell_ no they weren't. They were even considering sending you to a catholic school, until Phil's parents pointed out the view the Catholic church had on homosexuals. Your parents loved you, and they wanted you to grow up good, but, they weren't willing to put you in danger over your little stunt. | 9ce4bae35996493b82cff1d790be92b6 | ['2cfba55e04d54d7b9d352ecc8776bc93'] | would you just take the damn note
**Author's Note:**
> okay this is like
> hella ooc but how ic can you get with irl people lmao
> anyways i had this little idea in my mind and this is the manifestation of said idea
To be frank, Patrick thought Pete was kind of a dick. So, obviously, it took him by surprise when Pete had approached him in the cafeteria, and held a hand holding a neatly folded note out to him.
Just in case it was some sort of sick prank, Patrick took the defensive. (Hey, you can’t blame a kid for playing it safe.) The words “Can I help you?” were said around a mouthful of poorly made spaghetti.
Pete’s eyes widened; he obviously wasn’t expecting that sort of response. “Uh, well… You could, like, take the note, and… Y’know…”
Patrick stared at Pete blankly for a few moments, chewing slowly and swallowing. “Elaborate.” Patrick, for whatever reason, was getting a sick sense of satisfaction out of seeing Pete, the jockiest of all jocks, getting flustered.
Pete sputtered, opening and closing his mouth a few times in a fashion similar to that of a goldfish, and was just so very close to saying something, before _someone_ (Joe) shouted, “Patrick, would you just take the damn note?!” from about five yards away.
Pete gave Joe a _mortified_ look.
….and Patrick’s head whipped around to give Joe the dirtiest look. “Fine,” he muttered. He took the note, and Pete shuffled away about as quickly as he came. (Which was rather fast, by the way.)
* * *
_Hey, look, I know I haven’t really been the nicest person to you or really anyone but I think you’re like, really cute and maybe a little hot and I was wondering if you’d like go on a date or something. Feel free to totally ignore me if you're not interested or if you're straight or whatever._
* * *
A few days later, Patrick inconspicuously slipped a note into Pete’s locker.
_I figured that by waiting a few days I've given you enough anxiety + I find you quite attractive (and that note was cute) so I think a date could be arranged. (Also I'm not the straightest guy around, so no worries.)_
_1 (xxx) xxx – xxxx_
_Text (or call) me :)_ _
_ |
f57b71cf78de4bb2afeaa6f6db02cdd8 | ['2d09fd578ed246eab4bea6f222e7ba52'] | P̢̨ͬ͌l͙͘e͘a̧͡s͢͡ĕ̸̫̊..̯
**Author's Note:**
> ]|I{•------»[ Azazel here ]«------•}I|[
>
> Here is another short write that sucks! I ain't a writer!!
>
> \----------------
>
> Word count : 543
> Ship : Reed900
> Au: Reverse
> Warning: Angst. There is damage to Gavin and I have an Oc of mean mentioned. He isn't with any of the characters but I did use him to drive to plot a bit.
>
> \------------------
Red. That's the color that shown brightly in the otherwise dark room. Through the light wouldn't help Gavin, not with his right eye busted. Today was the worst yet and he knew. Oh how he knew that tomorrow would be no better, but that wasn't anything new.. Not anymore..not with Niles gone......
It's been a month... a month since Niles left for Washington to work on a case that didn't need Gavin....that didn't want Gavin....
This meant that Gavin would be assigned to someone else for the time being. That someone just had to be Azazel collin. The Name left bitterness behind to take its place. With the way Azazel went about things and Treated Gavin, you'd think the man was a criminal that got confused. Gavin has gone through so many repairs because of him.
So many repairs. Today through... Today is the worst. Busted eye, torn up arm and leg. Sure the damage Outside was bad but the real damage went unseen
[⚠URGENT!⚠]
[THIRIUM LEVELS ARE AT 34 PERCENT AND DROPPING. IN DANGER OF SHUTTING DOWN]
[⚠URGENT!⚠]
That wasn't nearly enough for him to survive til morning, but people were ordered by Azazel to leave him til morning and Gavin had no way of getting up in his own. He knew he'd shut down before the night was over, there was he could do to stop it.. Not with a 1 percent chance..it's fine... It's okay... He's replaceable.. There are more of him.. So it didn't matter...
[⚠URGENT!⚠]
[THIRUIM LEVELS ARE DANGEROUSLY LOW!!!
[SHUT DOWN IN 9:56:20]
[⚠URGENT!⚠
Gavin looks down at the floor with a smile. If only he got to say goodbye to Niles, that's all he truly wanted at this moment. Just to see Niles.. Just to hear his voice.. but Fate never played by others rules...
Muffled yelling could be heard but all was a blur to the android that sat minutes away from his death. They become louder and louder until finally the room was he was kept in was invaded. Gavin slowly looked up to see three figures.
Two began to push and hit while the other rushed to Gavin's aid. "GA.....N..... S...EA... T.... ....E.."
"....N͚͑͞ïl͉e̛͙͘s̪̙̍͟...."
The figure in front off him backed away before rushing out of the room
" n̙͌o.͑.̧̊.̖͐͟.ͭ ͕p̧lea̩šȇ̻.͂͘.̧.ͣ͞ D̕Ọ͊N̑'̨T̏ ͏LE̽ĄVE ̮̊M͍̽͟Ë̹͞. ͪP͌̕LͅEA̮SͧͅȨ.͇̇. ̜̿PL̨̻̂Ě̺A̙ͨS̷̱̆Ę!̤!̵͉ͦ ́.̜͟.̾..̨͗.͞.ͣ.̷̫.͔͠p̙ͪl͗e̢a̵̎s͌e̖̎͡" "
[⚠URGENT!]]
[SHUTING DOWN IN 3:03:02]
[⚠URGENT!⚠]
Gavin's head dropped "P̢̨ͬ͌l͙͘e͘a̧͡s͢͡ĕ̸̫̊..̡̯I̞̅.̷.̧̻̖̚.̷.͗́͡I̵̝͉ͬ ͑͘͞d͓͑o̶̷̥̰̔n'̛ͤ̍ţ ͛w̵ͪͤ͘a͌͆͢͢n̴͡t͘ ͖͓͜t̼ͣő̯̳͒ ̛̬́ͭ͜ǵ̭ͬo̠̠.̷ͤ̍̕..̧̗̈́p̨l̯͑ͥȩ̞̩ͥ̒͝a̧̡s̷͊̿e͙..̧ͦ͏."
[⚠URGENT!⚠]
[SHUTING DOWN IN 1:30:59]
[⚠URGENT!⚠
Suddenly Gavin's head was pulled up and a jelly like liquid was squirted into his mouth.
"DR....NK...... R...NK....DRI....K....DRINK.."
Gavin followed the order and soon realized what it was and soon he was begging for more.
Very Quickly his thiruim levels went up as he was feed more and more of it. All his sensors seemed to be working enough for his vision and hearing to work
"C..conner?"
"OH THANK GOD!"
Conner pulled Gavin closer to his body "It's okay.....a repairman is on his way... It's okay...it's over.. You'll never see Azazel again.... We promise that..." Confusion took ahold of Gavin "W..we?" Then someone crouched down to the side of them "Yeah... I'll be damned if I let him Destroy my partner anymore.... You aren't some toy... " Gavin turned his head to see him. Niles.. | 6394cc39e0a54ff9a8fb68b5c14c8ab1 | ['2d09fd578ed246eab4bea6f222e7ba52'] | Sleep
“Detective, it’s getting late. I think you should start heading home. It isn’t good to drive while tired...” Looking over at the android that stood two feet away from him Niles huffs out a laugh “Yeah...Well, these files aren’t gonna finish themselves, and I don’t want to work on them all tomorrow..” Gavin frowned while looking down at the man that turned back to his computer “That still does not lower the risk of driving while tired Detective."
It was like this on the days that their cases had more lying underneath. Niles always stayed later to finish the paperwork for those days, but today he stayed behind longer than usually. Two hours longer. Sure that wasn't too long, but Gavin knew that the files would cause him to stay longer and with Niles waking up so early to get to work, he knew that it would only make him sleepy. "Detective. It is estimated that one in twenty-five adults fall asleep at the wheel. As well that 72,000 crashes, 44,000 injuries, and 800 deaths are estimated that drowsy driving is responsible for."
Niles let out a laugh while shaking his head. Gavin did this every time Niles refused to go home. At first, it did get under Niles skin but as time went on it became endearing. "Gavin...please...that is so ridiculous. " Gavin frowned as his LED flickered from yellow to red. "I can assure you that I am completely serious, detective.." With a sigh, stops working and leans back in his chair closing his eyes. "Okay," he opened his eyes and looked over at him. "okay...how about this... I'll stay here for the night. That way, I get to finish typing this up and you know I'm fine. sounds good?" The android thought over the suggestion that the workaholic made. "sleeping hunched over is not good for the body.."
"We keep blankets here in for those we get who aren't fully clothed. I'll just lay those down and sleep on that...and before you say it, I'm using my jacket as a pillow." Sleeping on the floor did help your body, maybe Gavin could let this go, Just this once. " Okay detective, I'll let you do this, but don't think I will let this happen over and over." Niles chuckles" Alright..." With that, the two sat in silence while Niles worked.
It was 12;30 when Niles finished. Looking to the right of him, he noticed that Gavin had yet to go into standby mode. He just stood there staring blankly ahead, his LED spinning a continuous amber.
Why? This was the question Niles asked himself whenever his eyes laid on it. He wasn't oblivious to this thing. He did notice how it quickly change from soft blue to deep yellow when Gavin looked at him, but that didn't mean he knew why it happened. "Gavin... why are you still up? shouldn't you be in standby mode or whatever androids go into?"
"you're still awake..."
"Hm... alright .. well then you can do that now cause I'm going to get that set up..."
Gavin nods as he walked over to the charging area with all the other androids that stood like sculptures. His eyes land on his station and if he looked hard enough he'd so dusty. Gavin can't remember the last time he spent in his but knew that at some point he would have to go there, he couldn't go forever without allowing his system restart. He stepped into his station shutting his eyes, and surprisingly his body started to shut down to restart itself.
If only that sweet bliss lasted longer for him. It was 3:30 AM when he snapped out of his ‘rest. He thought tonight would be different from the others since Niles was there but it seems he was wrong. He stepped out of his station and scanned the area as he walked towards his partner's desk. Gavin pulled the seat out and sat in it noticing that Niles wasn't too far from him.
Gavin soon realized that this Niles was different than the one he knew. Sure they were the same person but seeing him asleep, looking so calm like he didn't have anything to worry about. Gavin liked this… he liked that Niles was peace for the moment. If only he could get peace himself.
Time seemed to blur into one
Before Gavin realized, it was 4 AM. Sighing to himself, He laid back in the seat. “Gavin? What are you doing? I thought you went into rest mode before I
even went to bed?”
“Oh! I apologize Detective… I have been having trouble going into and staying in Standby mode. I did not mean to wake you…” With a roll of his eyes, Niles sat up yawning “Don't bother… i woke up on my own… what time is it?” The Android nodded “It is 4:04 AM… you should really go back to sleep Detective. You'll have to get up in two hours…” Niles shook his head, letting another yawn pass through him while he made room on the floor “Come here…”
“Detec-”
“Just get ya ass down here. You said I'll have to get up in a bit… let's not waste time…”
With that, Gavin shut his mouth and went to lay down next to Niles. His LED going red as he watched the man next to him roll over and fall back to sleep. After setting an internal alarm for 5:50 AM, Gavin fell back into Standby mode..” |
10bdbaef02694ccb8a00dfeec984034d | ['2d0f211f5e3d44b1bc0b0a44cac8ee92'] | > i fucking hate being the only one who does anything
>
> but if u want me to tell her
>
> **Zoe Murphy**
>
> Aren't you going to ask Evan first?
>
> **Jared Kleinman**
>
> y?
>
> what good would it do?
>
> **Zoe Murphy**
>
> You're sure?
>
> **Jared Kleinman**
>
> r u?
Jared put his phone back in his pocket, rolling his eyes as he saw Alana approach him. Of course he was the one who was gonna have to tell her the truth.
"Hey Jared! I wanted to talk to you about… Why is Matt Holzer staring at us?"
Jared shrugged, dismissive. "I think he's in love with me. What did you want to talk about?"
Alana remained silent for a few seconds, unsure if Jared's dry response was supposed to be humorous. She decided to focus on the second half of the statement. "Well I just wanted to ask a few questions about the Connor Project. You know, Connor and Evan."
Jared nodded in a way that would've been grave had he actually given a shit about anything at that moment. "I feel like this is a conversation we're gonna wanna have away from everyone else. Computer lab?"
Alana nodded as Jared led her through the hallways to a secluded computer lab where they were unlikely to be interrupted. "Were you serious about Matt?"
Jared scoffed. "It's called a joke. You know you can't believe half the things people say in this school." He opened the door and led Alana inside the lab.
"Can I believe anything you're about to say?" Alana asked cautiously.
Jared shut the door behind them. "Depends on what you want me to tell you." Alana looked confused at this. "Look I know you know something's up, and… I'm not gonna tell you the full story. I just… I can't. But I'll answer your questions. As long as I can answer them simply."
"Ok then. So… wait, what does that even mean?"
Jared looked to the side trying to figure out how to explain. "If the answer can be summarized in a few words, I'll answer it. Like I said, I'm not gonna tell you the full story." Jared sniffed and discreetly wiped his nose.
Alana took a few seconds to process this. "That makes sense… I guess." She cleared her throat and pulled out her phone, apparently looking for something on it. "So I guess the main thing is, like, the discrepancies between the emails and the story. Why are there discrepancies? Do you know?"
Jared wasn't entirely sure how to answer this. "No… and yes…"
"What does that mean? Do you know the reasons for the discrepancies or not?"
"Generally yes, but not specifically."
Alana pinched the bridge of her nose, unamused. "Ok, whatever. I guess, what I'm really getting at here is were Evan and Connor really friends?"
Jared waited a few seconds before looking down and shaking his head. "No. He wasn't."
Alana was clearly unsurprised but annoyed at this response. "Then why the hell did Connor address his suicide note to Evan?" she yelled, moving towards Jared, who took a step back in response. Alana leaned back and took a deep breath. "I know, complicated question. Just… gimme a minute to think how to phrase this."
But Jared didn't need a minute. "He didn't."
"…What was that?"
"You asked why Connor addressed his suicide letter to Evan. He didn't."
"What… what does that mean? That… that it was just made up? No. No, I talked to the Murphy's, they said they found a note on Connor when he died that pointed to Evan. That couldn't have been made up. Why would they make it up? Did they make it up, Jared?" Alana got louder as she went on, more desperate for an answer, angrier. Jared's head snapped up, a look that was something between fear and regret plastered on his face.
"No. Of course not. There was a note they found on Connor. It was addressed to Evan."
"But it wasn't Connor's suicide note," Alana said, picking up on what Jared was saying. "Then… what was it?" Jared gestured vaguely in response. He opened his mouth to speak a few times but immediately closed it. "You don't know?"
Jared grimaced. "I know… but it's hard to explain."
"Ok then let's start with who wrote the letter I guess. Do you know who wrote it?"
Jared nodded. "Evan."
"I asked who wrote it."
"I know. Evan."
"Evan wrote a letter addressed to himself? Why?"
"It was an assignment."
"What teacher would assign a letter like that?"
"It wasn't a teacher."
Alana shook her head. "Then who? Who assigned it."
Jared looked askance. "That's not my answer to tell."
Alana sighed. "I wish… I wish I could say that I was surprised by all of this. That all of this is coming as a shock. But I think I knew before. I think I always knew. I just… ignored it. I needed it to be real." The two paused, uncertain how to continue, or if they should continue. "So I guess the only other thing I want to know right now is how did Evan break his arm. I mean, if Connor wasn't there what happened?"
Jared felt his stomach did a flip. He had only recently just learned the truth. But he wasn't even able to admit it to himself yet. "There was a tree. And there was a fall."
"So he did accidentally fall out of a tree?"
"I… I dunno."
"What do you mean? How else could he have broken his arm?"
"…I misspoke. He did fall."
"Jared, you promised you'd tell me the truth."
"I don't know, ask Evan."
"What's going on?" | 178f68eb8a3e4839971cf4880b1a8653 | ['2d0f211f5e3d44b1bc0b0a44cac8ee92'] | "I mean, if you want. I think we're good right now, but I'll definitely let you know if I think of anything. Ask Alana. We could probably use help this weekend."
"Oh, shit, I just remembered, I can't do this weekend. My camp friends are in town, so I'm inviting a few over for an 'intimate get-together' at my place." Evan paused, confused. "Jesus, Evan, it's a party. Just with way fewer people."
Evan had never actually met Jared's camp friends, but he knew that Jared's pretty close. Probably closer to them than he was to Evan. Which shouldn't have bothered Evan. And it didn't. It… no, it didn't. "Oh. Cool. That sounds like a good time. Have fun."
Jared snorted. "I was going to invite you."
Evan dropped his notebook and looked up. "What?"
"Yeah, I mean I know things have been busy for the Connor Project so I figured it would be a good chance to just relax and take it easy for a night."
Evan blinked. "Oh. I just, um, I just thought you know, like, you usually say that your camp friends are your 'real friends' so I just assumed, you know, that I wasn't like—"
"Look, don't overthink it. I'd appreciate you coming. My parents are out of town this weekend and the last time they used the liquor cabinet was like, Rosh Hashana nineteen ninety-seven." Jared had a devious grin on his face.
"What are you implying?" _Is Jared really saying what I think he's saying?_
"Well assuming my parents stay ignorant, one could say we can drink whatever we want!"
"One could say that… but should one?"
"Wow you really like Parks and Rec."
Evan shrugged. "You got me hooked."
"But that wasn't even proper implementation of the line." Evan shrugged and gave a small apologetic smile. "Whatever. Look, you don't _have_ to drink. But you should come."
Evan thought about it. "I don't know, I've got like, a lot of homework, and things for the Connor Project. Like, the Murphy's want me over tonight again, and Alana's got something planned one of those evenings I think, and-and-, I really don't, like, I don't want to intrude when you're hanging with your camp friends."
Jared's face fell as Evan spoke. "Evan, slow down and breath, ok?"
"No, no, it's not—I'm not… I mean, I'm… I'm doing better. I wasn't about to… um, you know."
Jared started shaking his head. "No, I didn't mean to imply… you just worry us when that kind of thing happens." Evan nodded. Jared had his best interests in mind. "Look, I know everything is crazy, but just… think about it?"
"What are you up to?" The voice from the doorway startled Evan, causing him to shut his laptop out of habit. He mentally added something that had happened since the speech to his list: 6. Evan could count the times he had seen his mom between the speech and now on one hand. She hadn't even asked about the text Jared sent since that night.
"Nothing much." _Just double booked this weekend for the first time… maybe ever._
"I feel like every time I walk into your room you close your computer screen."
Evan couldn't tell if he was more annoyed by the accusation or the way it was delivered. _Does she not trust me or something?_ "Not really."
"I don't know what you do on there that you don't want me to see." She walked closer to him, confrontational.
"I was doing homework, Mom." He replied. _Technically not untrue, I was working on my homework during the call with Jared_.
Heidi paused. "Do you have a minute?"
_I don't know what this conversation is, but I really don't want to have it. The Murphy's are expecting me any minute anyways._ "Actually, um, I was just about to go to Jared's." He got off of his bed and grabbed his backpack.
"Didn't you go to Jared's last night?"
"Well, we're doing a Spanish project together," he said as he began stuffing school supplies into the backpack, "we're going to be working late again, so I'm not sure…not sure when I'll be back." He turned around and grabbed a hoodie.
"Saw the strangest thing on Facebook today."
"Oh really?" He was hardly paying attention. _I just need to get out of here._
"Yeah, this was uh… this was a video from the uh, something called The Connor Project?" He froze. _Shit._ "You heard of that?" He didn't say anything. "'Cause their website, it says that… you're the president."
He sat down on the bed, still not looking at her. _She knows._ "Co-president."
His mother nodded in his periphery. "Well this was, uh, this was a video of you doing a speech. About that boy. Connor Murphy, yeah, yeah, yeah, about how he signed your cast." Evan stammered. He didn't even know what he was being accused of. Heidi held her hands out for him to stop. "Alright, you told me you didn't know him."
"I didn't, I said that in the speech!"
"You told me he signed as an apology."
"Yeah, I-I know—"
"But in the speech you made it seem like he just did it because he wanted to."
"Does it make any difference?"
"It does when you're not telling me anything! I don't even know what he was apologizing for."
"It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago, the cast is off, and Connor's de—" He paused. "Connor's gone now. So what does it matter now?"
" _So_ when were you planning on telling me any of this? Or-or-or you weren't?"
Evan snapped. He stood up. "When would I tell you any of this exactly? When are you even here?"
Heidi stepped back, angry. "I'm here. Right now." |
6aabb522f4ee466eb30f6e2ffcee2376 | ['2d186e99a0ed40f6a016684909c5504d'] | "You're right, I did say that, didn't I?" Kaneki remembers, chuckling. "Well, we can open them now, right after I make some coffee. Ah, shit, that's right. I meant to ask Touka something, but I forgot. Maybe I'll get to ask her tomorrow or something-" he mutters to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen.
Ayato nods and goes back to their room to retrieve the boxes, listening to the mechanical whir of the coffee machine. As he walks toward the kitchen, he hears Kaneki humming one of those annoying Christmas tunes that always passed on the radio. After a full day of listening to them at the cafe, there's no doubt at least one of them would be stuck in his head.
"Do you want a coffee, too?" the white haired boy asks, turning at the sound of Ayato walking up behind him.
"No thanks," he replies, setting the boxes down on the counter. "Let's just open these and get it over with."
"Do you have an idea of what's inside? or who gave them to us?"
"Well it's probably nothing fragile, because I spent half the day shaking mine and I didn't hear anything break."
Kaneki winces, hoping that the contents of the poor box wouldn't be too scrambled when they opened it. He grabs his finished cup of coffee and turns to face Ayato, leaning against the counter.
"Well? Are we going to open them?"
Ayato glares at his box suspiciously. "Open you'd first, then I'll decide if I want to know what's in mine."
Kaneki shrugs. "Fair enough." he concedes, grabbing the silver box and untying the bow.
Upon tearing off the paper and opening the mysterious box, he finds a small card with a holiday-themed rabbit doodle on the front. He lets out a bark of laughter.
"What? What is it ?!" Ayato demands, trying to get a look at what Kaneki is laughing at.
"I think these are from your sister." Kaneki announces, showing him the card.
"What? why the hell would Touka get us anything? She knows we don't celebrate, right?"
"Of course she does, I'm sure she just saw something she thought we'd like and took advantage of the holiday to give it to us. Look what's inside the card, though."
Kaneki opens the card and shows Ayato what's written. In dark red, loopy handwriting, is "lock your fucking doors, dumbasses" with a couple of hearts and x's.
"That explains how she got it on the bed, then." Ayato mutters. "Whatever's in mine, I don't want it. If it's from her, it's definitely something that she got specifically to embarrass me."
"Come on, it can't be that bad." Kaneki counters as he pulls out the thing in his box. The barista gasps upon realizing what it is and hastily pulls it over his head.
"Ayato, look!" he says excitedly as he smoothes down the horrifying abomination he just put on. "It's one of those ugly Christmas sweaters! These things are all the rage, this year!"
It's definitely ugly, Ayato scowls at it. It's an ugly green, with red collar and wrists, white stripes and a string of red, blue, and yellow 'lights' around the collar and sleeves. Crossed candy canes are patched onto the shoulders and a lopsided pine tree sits in the middle of the sweater, without any decorations on it.
"Now you open yours!" Kaneki grins, pushing the other box toward Ayato.
"No way in hell!"
"Come on, please?" Ayato can't even look at Kaneki, partly because of the hideous thing he calls a sweater, and partly because he knows that his boyfriend is making puppy eyes at him and he knows Ayato can't resist it when he does that. Goddamnit.
Grumbling, the younger boy snatches the box off the counter and all but rips it apart, already dreading what's inside. He sees a dull, dark red with white patterns on it. Nope, fuck this.
"No wait you have to put it on!" Kaneki whines, grabbing the sweater before Ayato can toss it into the trash, wrestling his small boyfriend for about ten minutes to shove him into the garment. Kaneki lets out a victorious shout once he manages to get the sweater onto Ayato without tearing it (surprisingly).
"What the fuck is this thing?!" Ayato snarls, jumping to his feet and looking down at himself to see the damage.
Well, at least it's not as colourful as Kaneki's. There's only solid red, and a white patch going across the top of his chest and shoulders with red diamonds patterned across it, and a white bar across the hems of his sleeves and the bottom of the sweater. Dead center is a solid white image of a male deer, being mounted by another male deer.
Ayato grabs the bottom of his sweater and stretches it away from himself frantically. Maybe if he moves it into a certain angle, the picture will change. Kaneki gets to his feet, as well, and grabs his neglected cup of coffee.
"Well," Kaneki admits after taking a sip from his mug. "It kinda suits you, honestly. "
When Ayato turns to glare at him, he hide his grin behind his cup. "Come on, it's not that bad. It could be worse." Kaneki points out. "Just be thankful it's not something perverted, or, like, Santa Claus on a toilet bowl."
"Fine, FINE, whatever." Ayato stops stretching the sweater this way and that, frowning down at it one last time before admitting to himself that it could definitely have been worse. It's actually a little bit funny. "What do you want to do now, then?"
Kaneki thinks about it for a second. "Maybe we can sit down and watch those badly animated Christmas cartoons?" he suggests. "Or we can just head out and go for a walk in the snow, or something."
"I'll take the cartoons, thanks." Ayato grimaces at the thought of doing anything as romantic as walking together in the snow. Especially in these sweaters.
Kaneki smiles at him and grabs his hand, dragging him to the couch and turning on the TV. Ayato leans into Kaneki's shoulder and sighs, feeling the scratchy surface of the candy cane patch against his face. Maybe, for one night, they can relax and enjoy themselves. It's Christmas, after all. | 7228305aed6b4131adb1ec33b3e39171 | ['2d186e99a0ed40f6a016684909c5504d'] |
Merry... Christmas...?
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Im very very sorry that my part for you was not posted yesterday so I wrote this for you as an apology (>;v;)>
Ayato stares down at the seemingly innocent box in his lap. He found it on his side of the bed, wrapped in bright green and white stripes, with a red ribbon tied around it in a delicate fashion. A similar looking box was found on Kaneki's side, except his was wrapped in shiny silver paper with a blue bow.
He really shouldn't open it, he has a feeling it's going to be something absolutely horrifying. His gut instinct is usually right, when it comes to these kinds of things. Kaneki had told him to wait for him to come home before opening it, so they could open their boxes together.
Neither of them ever really celebrated Christmas beyond what their friends (or maybe not) would force them to celebrate, and ever since they've been together they've made a point of not celebrating any religious holidays. It's not like they hold much meaning, for them, anyway.
The clock above the kitchen sink ticks obnoxiously loud, and the young man almost reached up to tear it down, but on his way to destroy it something outside the window catches his eye. There are humans walking down the street, laughing and singing cheerfully.
'Merry Christmas,' Ayato thinks, silently cursing them for never having known what it's like to be on the run from the CCG, hunted down like game. His mood drops and the clock is forgotten, along with the green box, when Ayato stalks toward the bedroom he shares with Kaneki to sulk.
\-----
"Touka! Please take table five's order!" Kaneki yells, knowing that the girl could probably hear him even if he whispered, but that wouldn't look too good in front of humans, and who knows if anyone is an undercover CCG member these days. The white haired boy takes the order from his table and returns to the counter to tell Koma what to brew, dodging some rather gaudy Christmas decorations on his way.
Touka breezes past him on her way to take her orders, nudging his side playfully. Well, playfully in her definition. Kaneki is almost certain his ribs will be sore for at least a half hour. He turns to the girl to ask her what she wants but she's already gone. He shrugs, figuring he'll have to ask her about it later.
Many people are coming in and asking for their holiday special, some sort of coffee brewed with peppermint flavouring, since it's Christmas. Kaneki doesn't blame them for wanting to celebrate and get into the chrismas vibe, heaven knows how much he would love to be able to relax and spend some time with the people he loves. That's not an option, anymore. Not really, anyway, with the CCG closing in on the 20th ward. Every ghoul needs to be on their toes, and taking a holiday break is sure fire way to slipping up, making a mistake and bringing the wrath of the ghoul investigators down on your head.
Kaneki thinks of the boyfriend he left at home, this morning. They may not celebrate Christmas, hell they may not really celebrate anything, but the white haired boy wonders if maybe he should have taken a day off to spend some time with Ayato. They barely see each other, what with Kaneki working and Ayato having to spend a lot of time hiding from Aogiri. The superiors of the Tree were less than pleased when Ayato abandoned the group, to put it lightly, so the boy was forced to drop off the radar for a while to avoid being a revenge target.
Maybe a bit of time together would brighten Ayato's mood, Kaneki thinks. They both need a bit of a pick-up after the wild couple of months that they, and the rest of Anteiku, just had.
\-----
It's dark by the time Ayato hears the telltale click of a key being turned in the lock of the door. He drags himself off the bed, he probably passed out from
sheer boredom, and shuffles his way to greet Kaneki.
The older boy looks up from his spot on the front carpet, just having finished taking off his boots. His jacket is unzipped and his scarf is loosened around his neck, and he looks at Ayato with the expression of a dog happy to see its owner. That's a really weird comparison, Ayato berates himself for even thinking about it, no matter how true it is.
"Merry Christmas, Ayato!" Kaneki announces, throwing his arms wide open with a grin. The younger boy stares at him, unsure of what Kaneki wants from him.
The barista makes little grabbing gestures with his hands, giving his boyfriend an expectant look. After a few awkward seconds of complete inaction, he signs and lowers his arms a bit. "I don't deserve a 'welcome home' hug?" he inquires, not sure what to do with himself until he feels Ayato returning the embrace.
"You never asked for one before, asshole." Ayato grumbles. "Caught me off guard, that's all."
Kaneki laughs, understanding. Beyond the occasional cuddle, or whatever happens behind closed doors, the pair had never exhibited any outward forms of affection.
Kaneki enjoys the moment for a few seconds too many, because Ayato is already struggling to escape the taller boy's grip. Kaneki squeezes him one more time, drawing an exasperated groan out of Ayato, before releasing him to finish taking off his winter gear.
"Did you open your box yet?" Kaneki asks, hooking his jacket on one of the hooks next to the door. Ayato shakes his head.
"You said we'd open them together, remember?" |
1a52e1ab75404e428acdf9a86f37a220 | ['2d210625a0fd4ceda18b28424e7f928b'] | "I'm not depressed," Kate interjected, "or sterile, for that matter. Actually, I don't know...I never tried to have kids." She didn't know why she was sharing this with Catalina. She supposed she was building trust.
"Ah, kids are good, but they ruin your body. Gabi _me hizo una mala_."
"But you're still gorgeous," Kate pointed out, taking another large gulp.
Catalina laughed, tossing her head back. Her throat was gleaming with sweat. "You trying to make me like you, Katarina?"
"Just Kate, actually."
"You know, we've got the same name. Catalina, Katarina. _Pues, no importa_."
Kate nodded, unsure of what she was supposed to say next. Gabi was now rubbing her face with pink blush.
"I'd like to be friends, Catalina."
" _Pero claro._ You found out whose woman I was, didn't you?"
Kate cringed. "I don't know about that. I don't know anyone here. I just feel pretty lonely and I really like your daughter -"
"Tell that _Sicario_ to give you one, then. I'm sure he can get the job done."
Kate pretended to be offended, which came rather easily. _God_ , she couldn't imagine having a squalling brat, having _his_ squalling brat. All pink and clean and soft, swaddled in her arms. Alejandro would kiss the top of her head, and she'd want to cut his throat.
She was grateful that he was the kind of man who would never entertain such thoughts.
"I don't want a kid. I just want a friend. I thought you and I could try that," she persisted pathetically.
Catalina chuckled. "You think I'm stupid. You think I'm still sleeping with _El Capitán,_ don't you? Ha. He put a baby in me and moved on, _gringa_."
"Oh... that's -"
"A relief, _créeme_. You don't want to meet him."
Kate bit her lip. That's just the thing. She really did, she really wanted to meet the Captain of the Chihuahua base. More than anything. She knew that if she reached him, she could talk things out with him. Prove to him that she could do more than sit around his haciendas.
"Why not?" Kate ventured.
"You're not his type. _Jefe_ doesn't go for FBI."
"Former FBI," Kate pointed out.
" _Es lo mismo a él_ ," Catalina shrugged. It was all the same to him.
Kate drank the rest of her beer. She'd wasted weeks finding out that Catalina and Gabi were his, and now...
_Wait a minute. Gabi. He might still keep tabs on his kid._
"Okay...thanks for the advice, and the drink. I'd still like to be friends, all the same."
Catalina surveyed her critically. " _Amigas_ , eh?"
"I'd like to hang out with Gabi. Take her off your hands," Kate offered, smiling, stinking of beer.
_The Captain has to love his kid._
* * *
She hadn't seen Alejandro in three weeks. He'd left without preamble. He hadn't said where he was going. But she followed the news on the big screens in the foyer. He was on a job.
She didn't want him to die. Not really. That would have been kind of hollow and pointless. It would have made her life here harder, and it would have taken away the only purpose she still cherished. She almost got angry at night, thinking he might die without her there, standing over him, watching.
Life couldn't be that sardonic, could it? Take away her last pleasure.
She had not heard he had returned. Otherwise, she would have made sure the little girl was not here... But he walked into her apartments and stumbled upon her and Gabi, tucked together on the couch in front of the big plasma, watching Mexican cartoons together and eating fried jalapeños.
Gabi did not even deign to look up when the big shadow walked into the room. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the TV. Her favorite show, _Niñas En La Nube_ , kept her rapt with attention.
"Kati, _mira_!" she cried out happily, pointing at the fluffy yellow clouds on which tiny anthropomorphic flowers jumped and danced.
Kate smiled and tickled her tummy wearily. She got up carefully and tucked the girl back in the comforter.
Alejandro was watching them impassively. He had left his guns at the door, but his hands still smelled of oil.
Kate signaled for him to follow her in the bedroom.
"Kati, _a dónde vas_?" Gabi asked, distraught.
" _Vuelvo_ ," Kate replied nervously. She wiped her hands on her frayed jeans.
When the door to the bedroom had been closed, she plumped down on the bed. "So, you're back."
"Kati?" he asked.
"It's what she calls me."
"Can I call you that too?"
"Not if you wanna lose an eye."
Alejandro coughed and chuckled at the same time, massaging his temples with the heel of his palm. He showed no sign of exhaustion, however.
"She Catalina's kid?"
Kate nodded stiffly.
Alejandro waited for her to go on.
"She's helping me speak Spanish better," she lied smoothly.
He shook his head. "Now, now. What are you on to, Kate?"
"What do you mean? Can't I make friends? Bad enough I'm stuck here with you for company." She meant to tease him, but it came out gruff and accusatory. As usual. She was a terrible actor, all around.
"You don't like kids."
"How do you know that?" she replied briskly.
Alejandro smiled. "Give me that much credit."
"You don't know anything about that. I happen to like kids fine. And I feel bad for Gabi. Her mom can't always take care of her."
"Is that so. Aren't you magnanimous." He was mocking her.
"Some of us can be," she countered, walking around him to the window. She always felt like opening it wide when he was in the room.
But she didn't make it three steps before his hand was around her arm, pulling her gently.
"Get rid of the kid."
"No. These are my rooms."
"I'm staying the night." | 509221d1097a4fbfb514683149edbfe9 | ['2d210625a0fd4ceda18b28424e7f928b'] | “Pop culture references are also a good indication of intelligence. Though, it varies. I mean my classmates keep name-dropping something called _The Mentalist_ , and I’ve tried that show and it’s really dumb.”
The thing about April is that she was not trying to impress you, or even _make_ an impression. She just rattled off about things that interested her or bothered her, without considering whether they interested or bothered _you_.
And fuck, he used to know someone like that, didn’t he?
Rory wasn’t there. He was sure Luke and Liz had invited her. Her mom had come, though. She and Luke seemed to be an item again, which made sense. He didn’t go over to talk to her. In fact, he avoided her for most of the afternoon. Yeah, he might’ve turned a new leaf, but he was not _that_ functional. He still carried some overlapping dysfunctionality from those bad teenage years when he thought Bukowski was the only schooling he needed. He _still_ thought that, deep down, even though he knew it was wrong.
Lorelai saw him at one point and waved in his direction and looked almost _sympathetic_.
Jess wanted to kick something. Rory must’ve told her about that stupid kiss.
He hated that thing people said about old crushes. What was the expression? Carrying a torch for someone?
He didn’t carry a torch for Rory. He was trying to _run_ from that torch, but it kept following him.
And Liz’s backyard felt so small.
He ended up sitting next to April at the birthday table. She was telling him about the Fibonacci sequence and how “cool” it was.
“Did you know the last Fibonacci year was 1597? Because the previous numbers in the sequence were 610 and 987, and those add up to 1597. The next Fibonacci year is going to be 2584. But we won’t be alive for that.”
“We weren’t alive for 1597 either,” he commented, putting down his third beer of the night.
“Well, that’s true…” April trailed off, chewing on her lip. “I guess it’s kind of sad we’re always out of the loop.”
Jess nodded, watching Luke and Lorelai dance. Soon, he’d be attending _their_ kid’s first birthday. And then, who knew? Rory might invite him to _her_ daughter’s birthday too.
A never-ending loop. And he was out of it.
The recession hit everyone, but it hit him last. His tiny publishing house survived the first years somehow, because debt back then was just a phantom accumulation that you didn’t need to worry about – until you did. Solvency became a cruel fantasy that he dreamed of securing every single month and every single month he came up short. That’s no way to live.
Matt and Chris sold their shares and cashed out with what was left. Truncheon Books was done by 2010, just when people were saying the crisis bubble was about to pop.
He packed his bags and moved to New York.
He had references and experience under his belt now, enough to get him working at… Barnes & Noble. Well, shit, those were not very good references, after all.
He still had a few contacts from the publishing world. His book had not been very popular, or sold very well for that matter, but it _had_ reached the right people. All he needed was some funds and some patrons, and he could re-start Truncheon Books in New York (maybe with a different, less Cecil Beaton-y name?) He could campaign on the Internet. Make one of those embarrassing “Think of the kids/America doesn’t read anymore” public pages.
Maybe.
First he had to feed and clothe himself.
Two years later he hadn’t made much progress. He’d written half of second book (it was lousy, by his standards) and he was still prowling indie bookstores, getting in touch with “people in the business”, going to poetry slams and open mic nights, and trying to stay in the fucking fame, but he was twenty-six and he already felt old and inadequate. Kids no longer thought you were cool if you talked about _Wilco_ and John Berryman.
He still got a lot of tail. It had started in Philly, this era of “Jess, the Stud”. Girls loved affected asshole with daddy issues. Mostly because _they_ were affected assholes with daddy issues. He tried not to be a jerk about it; he’d call them the next day or the following week, tell them he had fun, but that he was trying to sort his shit out right now and he didn’t think he’d be a good anything. Most of them said, “Relax, you’re hardly boyfriend material”, but some of them found him at Barnes & Noble and said they wanted to “be there for him, no matter what”. And since he still felt guilty about Rory, he’d be suckered into a one-month relationship, during which they’d both feel like shit and the girl would end up crying nine times out of ten.
So, he wasn’t exactly rock-solid, emotionally speaking, and it was _probably_ a bad idea when Luke reached out to him about April.
He hadn’t set foot in Stars Hollow in four years. It was usually Liz or Luke who came up to New York to see him. Luke had brought Lorelai only once, to see a show. He hadn’t made that mistake again. His sister, Doula, was five now and she liked nothing better than to kick down all the book carts in the store and watch him pick them up.
His cousin, April, was eighteen. He hadn’t seen her since Doula’s first birthday. She was in New Mexico with her mom half the time. She’d sent him a single postcard back in 2009. A picture of the Taos Pueblo, which she’d visited with her Mathlete Club after winning a competition. She’d written some gibberish on the back that was supposed to be in the Native language. She hadn’t offered a translation. |
654715a32771462b8da88f7486631252 | ['2d2243a095df479ca387263fbf9f86ff'] | "Y/N!" Honoka called as you walked down the street."hey, come over here!" You blush as a certain ginger barrelled towards you, but that wasn't the only reason. Another two girls- an ash-blonde birb and a dark-blue haired girl was with her, both smiling (one in embarassment, muttering "shameless!" under her breath as Honoka tackled you into a hug.)
"How would you like to go to a cafe with us today?" Kotori asked, smiling.
"Kotori made sweets as well!" Honoka grinned.
"It wouldn't be a problem to have you." Umi agrees, giving you a small smile.
* * *
Aftewards, stuffed full of y/f/f, you made your way towards Maki's house. The redhead had announced bashfully the other day she had a surprise for you. You were surprised (no pun intended). It wasn't your brthday, or christmas. Nevertheless, you decided to head there anyway.
"Y/n, nya!" rin is the first to speak, jumping on top of you and giving you a hug while Hanayo simply smiled and looked on besides her. "Come in!"
"Y-Y/n!" Maki finally appears. a stack of papers in hand. "Um, come in and sit next to the piano."
You took of your shoes and stepped in, eagerly anticipating the surprise that awaited you. Maki followed and sat herself down on the piano stool, and you smiled instinctively as you realised what her surprise was. Maki's piano was always a treat. Suddenly though, you picked up a familiar melody and rythm.
"it's-" you began.
"Y/f/s." Hanayo finished brightly, before blushing. "Sorry!"
"it's fine!" "it's fine, nya!" You and Rin say at the same time, earning a giggle from the ginger.
* * *
"y/ncchi!" "Y/N!"
Three voices chorused. You grinned facing three equally happy faces.
"We brought ya a present." Nozomi said happily.
"I suggested merch of myself, the great nico nii, but Nozomi said something about "impracticality" and "self-absorbtion" so I had to choose something else." Nico made a face.
"We could've just gotten chocolate-" Eli began, but Nico shook her head.
"No way! You would've eaten it all-"
"Guys." You interrupt. "This is nice and all, but I've been getting presents from everyone today. What day is it? Is it something special? Oh no, I haven't forgotten something have I?" You rack your mind for an answe, only to see three faces looking back at you, a huge grin on all of their faces.
"It's the anniversary of the day we met, Y/N." they chorus, pulling you into a group hug. | e9ae9d2257444f789bd6ff93eff7ffbc | ['2d2243a095df479ca387263fbf9f86ff'] |
Soulbound
**Author's Note:**
> I know I shouldn't be starting more fics but this one just popped into my mind and refused to leave aaaaa
>
> I promise i'll update tho i've prewritten a bunch
It was a perfectly normal day by Maki’s standards. Go to school, have lessons, maybe record a bit in the piano room, walk home. She was currently on the last part of her routine, navigating the crowded streets on the way back home. Somehow though, today was all the more crowded. By the time she was by UTX, a nearby school, she could barely see the floor for people.
The sound of cheering made her look up. On the rooftop of the school, just barely visible was a group of girls, a large screen on the building displaying the three of them up close, the matching soulmarks on their wrists glowing as they danced. Instead of cheering like the others though, she resigned herself to staring bitterly at the screen, wondering how long she would have to wait till the performance ended and the people left- there was no way of getting through the ridiculously large crowd without getting trampled.
She didn’t exactly like A-Rise. They were too flashy in her opinion- sure, their songs were catchy, and their dance moves were sharp, but their lyrics had no meaning and were poorly thought out, they performed far better on CD than live and the excessive use of poor english just made her annoyed. In fact, the more she watched, the more she disliked them. Surely it couldn’t last more than a few minutes?
“Can I do, I take it baby! Can I do, I make it baby!” As the last of the music finally faded, Maki rushed forward to get across the road before others caught up with her. She darted forward, ducking a man waving lightsticks and kept running, a mass of people swarming behind her. But as she ran, the crowd caught up. Soon she could feel other bodies pressing against hers, and the hair of a shorter girl tickling her nose.
Suddenly, a shove from behind sent Maki forward, crashing into the person in front of her. She threw out her hands instinctively and managed to stop herself from falling face-first on the concrete just in time, but almost cried out at a burning sensation on her left wrist. Lifting up her hand, she found the pain had faded, but there, just below her hand, a small ink flower had appeared.
“A-are you okay, nya?” A panicked voice asked, and a hand stretched out towards her. Maki realised she was still on the floor and stood up slowly, her eyes fixed on the small ink crown on the person’s wrist.
“Yeah. I think.” She shifted her gaze to the person, a short girl around her age with ginger hair, who smiled at her. She seemed somewhat familiar, and Maki felt the urge to smile back. She must’ve done so, because the other girl was grinning widely.
“So, great performance, huh?” The girl said, taking a few steps forward.
“I thought it was alright.” Maki replied, following on after she realised they seemed to be going in the same direction. She didn’t want to be too open about her thoughts in case she came off rude. “I’m not really a fan. It seems pretty catchy, though.”
“Same! I mean, I’m not a fan either. Well, not yet.” The ginger grinned. She was a fast walker, much faster than Maki despite the heavy-looking bag on her shoulders. The bag looked very similar to many she’d seen, she thought, until she realised that it was identical to her own, if a bit more battered. Suddenly she realised that they were wearing the same school uniform (although the other girl was still wearing her summer uniform) and with a jolt, Maki realised they were in the same class, and they had in fact seen each other in registration that very morning. Honestly, Maki, can’t you recognise your own classmate?
“Not yet?” Maki asked, trying to remember the girl’s name. Her last name had something to do with stars, she remembered, and her first name was short, and beginning with… L? No, R. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you see, my best friend, Kayo-chin-” Koizumi Hanayo, Maki remembered, from the teacher’s mispronunciation of Hanayo’s name on the first day of term. “-is a huuuuge idol fan, and she really, really, really loves A-RISE! But she’s got a cold, so I had to watch their performance for her and tell her about it. Anyways, I liked it and I like their music too, so I’m going to start being a fan and listening to all their new releases!” They stopped at the road crossing and waited for the red light to turn green. Maki took the moment to try and remember her classmate’s name.
Something to do with stars, and skies. Stars and skies, stars and skies… Hoshizora. That was it! It was only the surname, but it would do for now, since they weren’t friends. She would find out her full name tomorrow.
“So, where do you live, Nishikino-san?” Hoshizora asked as she waited for Maki on the other side of the road, having run across as soon as the light turned green.
“Only a few blocks away from here.” Maki replied. “What about you?”
“Just round the corner.” She answered cheerfully, as they came to a crossroad. “See you tomorrow!”
Maki was about to reply, ‘See you’, when she caught sight of the small ink crown once more. “Wait, Hoshizora-san?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you always had that?” She asked, pointing towards the crown on the other girl’s wrist. Hoshizora tilted her head in confusion, and brought her arm up to her face. Slowly, her eyes widened in surprise.
“Woah! I’ve got my soulmark!” She exclaimed, and raised her hand up as though to high five Maki, before realising that they weren’t friends. “Oops, sorry. I thought I’d never get it! Hey, you’ve got yours too!” Hoshizora gestured to the ink flower on Maki’s own wrist. “I wonder who it could be…”
“Who knows? There were tons of people in that crowd, we were all pressed up against each other…” Maki frowned. It couldn’t be Hanayo, since she had a cold and wasn’t there at the time, despite the instant connection between the girl’s name and Maki’s soulmark.
“I bet mine’s rich or something.” Hoshizora said, inspecting her soulmark more closely. “Or from a really important family…” Maki winced. Those were words that often applied to many people from their school, especially the former, given that it was a private institute.
“They don’t have to be.” Maki pointed out. “They could just act regal or important.” Or stuck-up.
Hoshizora was silent for a while. “Maybe. I’ll have to wait and see… What about yours?”
Maki looked down at the flower. It was a simple design, with five petals and a detailed center, with small, delicate-looking vines surrounding it, forming a small circle that would soon grow into a heart, if she met her soulmate again. “I don’t know yet.” She said truthfully.
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to see concerned messages from her mother, asking why she wasn’t yet home. “I have to go, see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow!” The other girl called, and Maki watched her shadow disappear, before leaving as well. |
de7da0bf928140e992ac5679c6d99eca | ['2d22613d37ee44e198726916b609e67a'] | “I’m sure you didn’t Violet, now that you know though I would like to talk to you about why you must remain with your Aunt and her family.” He leaned forward a bit as if being overtaken by a sort of weary feeling, which in all honesty wasn’t completely untrue. It was barely her first year and already so many things were going off plan, he had to set it right as soon as possible. “you see your relatives protect you in a special way Violet, Hagrid probably told you this but ten years ago a dark wizard named Voldemort tried to kill you and it was your mother’s sacrifice that kept you alive-”
“I’m aware of what happened Headmaster.” Violet interrupted suddenly, a look of… it wasn’t exhaustion or boredom, it was more like… exasperation almost. “Apparently when you’re famous, people love retelling your own story to you. I’ve heard the tale far more times than I can count, in far too many variations more ridiculous than the last.” She tilted her head. “Did you know that one child was convinced I was the reincarnation of sorceress Morgana LeFay? It took me three hours to shake him off in Diagon Alley because he wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.”
“Fame is a heavy burden, my dear,” He didn’t see the way her nose scrunched in slight distaste when he called her that. “It’s one of the reasons why you were left with your relatives, the other being the wards.” He was hoping to convince her to go back, to give up whoever she was with now and allow him to retake his duties as her magical guardian.
“The wards? I was made aware that they only worked as long as I called that residence home.” Violet said. “Headmaster, that place never has been home to me and it most certainly never will be.” Her voice had gone cold, a layer of ice could have formed around it from how chilled she had become.
“Come now Violet, surely you don’t mean that.” Albus tried to reason with her. “They opened their home and took care of you-”
“Care?” Violet questioned an incredulous look that should have seemed out of place on the eleven-year old’s face formed, yet for some reason, it matched her perfectly. “Headmaster they did many things to me, but care was not one of them.” Her eyes had narrowed, and he couldn’t help but feel he had just made a terrible mistake with his choice of words.
“Did you know that I didn’t even know my own name until I started school? I was always ‘ _ you _ ,’ ‘ _ girl _ ’ or their favorite one _ ‘freak’ _ .” She explained her lips turning up into an actual sneer at the last word. “I worked from sunrise to sunset and slept in a dusty cupboard under the stairs, they said I had to earn my keep and was reminded every second of every day about what an unwanted burden I was.” Her voice remained steady, but her words grew heavier and heavier. “When Hagrid came to take me shopping they said, that they had vowed to BEAT the freakishness out of me. Of course, it didn’t work but I can assure you it wasn’t from a lack of trying.” Albus had to intervene at this point.
“Violet, those truly are horrible things to accuse your relatives of. While a bit painful, corporal punishment is used by many families, I don’t believe it’s as horrible as you’re making it sound.” He tried to reach out to her magic with his own, soothe her and implant the notion into her head, but it violently jerked away from him and hardened like a protective shell. She had more control than he thought. He was so distracted by his own thoughts that he jolted in surprise when she suddenly stood, her eyes dark as she stared at him.
“If that truly is what you believe Headmaster then we have no more reason to talk.” Violet all but hissed, “I may be young but I refuse to listen to you if you won’t listen to me.” she walked away, not letting him say anything. But the final nail in the coffin was when she turned back to face him just as the entrance to the office opened. “I know the difference between abuse and punishment Headmaster, and I have the scars to prove it.”
While Violet was in a rather bad mood after her meeting with the Headmaster, when dinner came and they were seated around the Gryffindor table, she was soon reminded why she was already so grateful for the friends she had.
“We could slip something in his drink,” Fred suggested
“Or leave a dung bomb on his seat,” George added in.
“That’s both childish and unimaginative.” Cedric scolded them, and the boys looked affronted until Cedric grinned. “I say we charm his hair and clothes so that no matter what he wears or does for the next month they’ll be Slytherin green and silver, and while you’re at it add a hissing snake on them too.”
Their group went silent for a bit until Violet broke it by laughing.
“And you say _ I’m _ the secret Slytherin.” She choked out and Cedric winked.
“Oh no no, your Slytherin side is obvious Vi, secret implies keeping it hidden.” He explained, and Draco nearly guffawed, he had accepted the fact that he would be dragged to whatever table Violet felt like sitting at the time.
“Bloody hell, you puffs really are a special kind of scary.” He said.
“Not all of us, what about Neville?” Cedric pointed out, and Draco and Violet immediately paled slightly.
“You haven’t seen him in a greenhouse,” Violet said
“I swear I saw the plants bow to him,” Draco added in casting a glance at his friend. | 1ed1d4aaec0d40429e7d1528af67d94e | ['2d22613d37ee44e198726916b609e67a'] | “Alohamora!” Her voice frantic as she waved it for the charm. The lock clicked and she wasted no time in running into the room, which now brings us to the present.
“Bloody hell…” Violet whispered just now realizing where her feet had taken her. “I guess I know what they’re hiding on the third floor corridor…”
In front of her was a massive three-headed dog, midnight black in color with gaping jaws lined with sharp teeth that could tear a person apart in mere seconds. The middle head rose and sniffed the air and Violet prayed it wouldn’t scent her. Slowly the enormous body rose, and Violet a flash of brown in Violet’s peripheral vision alerted her to the fact that there was a door under its paw, not that the information mattered much. The right head began to growl and Violet felt her pulse speed up even more.
‘ _Please don’t let it smell me, please don’t let it smell me, please don’t let it smell me…_ ’ The heads let out a thunderous bark and Violet squealed as she jumped out of the way of a snapping jaw. She pulled open the door and fled, no longer caring in Filch caught her or not and didn’t stop until she had burst into her common room.
Cedric and Neville had elected to stay awake and wait for her, but neither was prepared when the door slammed open and Violet suddenly popped in out of thin air. Her hair was even more wild than usual, her pupils dilated to an almost impossible degree, and she was breathing heavily, overall she looked as if the devil itself was chasing her. Without so much as a warning, Violet flung herself into Cedric’s arms, sobbing and shuddering in fear.
“Th-third floor… Filch… r-running… Dog! Giant dog!” She sobbed, on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Woah Vi! Calm down, take a deep breath…” Cedric gently rubbed her back. “What are you talking about? A dog?”
Violet tried to regain her wits, her chest heaving. “Th-There’s…” She gasped “There’s a Cerberus in a room on third-floor corridor!”
Oh… that was definitely a valid reason to panic. Both boys looked at their friend in horror, die a horrible death indeed, what kind of school was Hogwarts turning into!?
The next day despite her other friends wishing to celebrate her spot on her house Quidditch team Violet didn't seem to be in a mood for anything. She was withdrawn, quiet, and refused to go anywhere off of the first floor opting to cling to Cedric as if he were a lifeline, and it didn’t take long for them to realize something was wrong. When they finally got Violet to shakily relayed the previous night, it took all of three seconds for Draco to grab a parchment and declare that ‘My father will hear about this!’
Blaise ended up convincing Violet to write to Tom about it as well.
“Violet, there's no way he can’t know, he’s your guardian!” He exclaimed. "I'd write to my own mother about this but unfortunately I can't say she holds much sway over the school. If you need an article published though I'm sure she could make it happen."
“I’m writing to my gran as well,” Neville informed her. “You nearly died Violet, you said that jaw came less than a foot away!” He looked pale just thinking about, and Violet couldn't blame him. All night she had been plagued with nightmares of giant teeth and the smell of rotten meat.
“That’s crossing the danger zone even for us,” Fred said with a frown
“There’s no way a creature like that should be allowed on grounds,” George added actually scowling.
* * *
By Monday evening the Heads of three Noble and Powerful families received letters from their heirs, and the resulting levels of rage, though displayed in different ways, all added up to the same thing. Hogwarts would have some official visitors very soon, and Dumbledore had better have more than a good explanation ready or else they would not be held responsible for any action taken against him and the school.
Marvolo brushed away soot from his robes and ruined dining room table as the elves rushed to restore everything after the inferno of his magic had consumed the room. Despite the destruction reigned he had an eerily calm expression set on his face, reminiscent of the calm before a storm.
Augusta Longbottom’s fingers curled around the paper in disgust as she immediately penned a note to some colleagues in the Ministry, her magic humming in a carefully set rage about her.
Lucius actually had to physically stop Narcissa from appearing in Hogwarts right then and there, he had no doubt she would be willing to cast the killing curse at the Headmaster at this very moment.
“Our Lord will surely have a plan,” Lucius said as his wife trembled with a rage only a terrified mother could possess. “He’s had a plan since the beginning, perhaps they will move quicker now.”
As if being summoned, their fireplace roared to life, however, the man who stepped through was no longer the suave and sophisticated Lord Marvolo Slytherin, but closer to the cold and vindictive Dark Lord Voldemort. His face was still serene and he had an almost pleasant look on it, but his eyes glowed a bright crimson and his magic flared so dangerously it was nearly suffocating.
“October Lucius.” Was the first thing the man snapped.
“My Lord?” He managed to get out once his breath had returned to him.
“You said the earliest you could stage an investigation would be over Yule break in December, I want it by October. No exceptions.” He hissed out dangerously. “Or Dumbledore will find himself to blame for a whole different type of war.” Lucius nodded. |
0cbf0daa12e2499ba8223dba8da3b1f7 | ['2d3187dc17ab4629b5e3544503472c61'] | A girl stood behind, not really sure where she was going to sleep tonight, should she sleep in Sooyoung's cabin with those who made her feel the heat inside her blood or should she stay with Olivia children who made her taste her hunter blood? One more night the girl decided to settle down inside the forest before sleeping on the ground, she had once decided to make a cabin just for herself, "the bastard cabin" was how she called it but thinking about it now only makes her laugh.
Being deep inside the forest makes her feel at ease, nothing felt like detecting everything she could manage to hear. Jiwoo used to say she had a wolf spirit inside of her and she needed to tame it so she could feel free, her mom Olivia told her that a long time ago when the goddesses were only infants she was bitten by a wolf and the Eden cured her that is why she should feel secure around people that were bound to earth. Her mother Sooyoung used to tell her that when the taste of mud and blood hits her mouth it is the time for her to raise herself with full strength because she was created from dirt and carnal desires.
The instant she heard someone approaching her, she had already two feet on the ground and knife in hand ready for any type of conflict. It never occurred to her that it could be a fellow colleague, a Chae Won daughter was standing in front of her looking terrified and already with her hands up: "Look I'm not here to attack you or anything, I just want to smoke a cigarette okay?". That was the moment she noticed the pack of cigarettes in the girl's hand and the lighter in the other one: "I'm so sorry for jumping into you, I just came here every night for a smoke before going to bed, after all the war is driving me insane. Do you want one?".
She had seen this Chae Won daughter before, not a very popular one like Sooyoung and Olivia's daughter but always with another kid or reading a mortal's book, she looked cute and seemed lovely but the other girl couldn't really trust anyone so close to war. Instead, her untrustful Sooyoung's DNA made her feel like she craved the other teen way too much for her liking, maybe it was really just the alcohol but blaming her mother was so much easier, so when she felt the usual so-called carnal desires everyone talks so much about in the goddess of lust cabin, she wonders what she can do about it. The said girl kept looking at her like she was waiting for an answer: "You know that those will kill you right, butterfly?".
The girl laughed like a nymph and the wolf inside her growled wanting nothing more than to claim what was hers right here and right now: "After the war, I'll stop, right now it feels like a hope or a promise, you know? Reflect about it with me, when this war ends I will take care of myself and stop smoking, after all, I survived a fucking war! And then I will end all the books I left behind without proper endings in this camp".
The young demigoddess responds with her usual confidence act: "What is the whole point of dying without fully knowing the end of the book? You should probably end those before the war, butterfly". The Chae Won child cracks another smile and says: "But that is no fun, Wolfie. Plus I always felt like a prey here, never the hunter or the killer-type, so I had to find a way to entertain myself while teens like you go around pretending that you are gods".
Looking at the smoking teen right now the silver eyed girl can see why she was claimed as a Chae Won's daughter, they had the same way of seeing life always bright and smooth, making music about everything and founding a beautiful element in the boring life they had: "Don't you imagine that life has more to offer than this, wolf girl?". Another cigarette fog was formed between them: "Don't you believe that people deserve a second chance? I believe that they do, and I do include us down here. We need to have the chance to be whoever we fucking want to be, not just toys for selfish goddesses that can't resolve things like adults". A thunder cracks in the sky, the goddesses are paying attention to them and they are not enjoying the view.
This girl was something she couldn't quite put her finger on it, she was intense like no other son of Chae Won she has ever met, no even like the goddess herself. Who she taught she was to just insult her mother like that? What was she thinking? Was she thinking at all? People like them, Chae Won's and Sooyoung's, don't usually go well together, everything is arduous with different thoughts and diverse ways of seeing life, people like them aren't supposed to feel aroused for each other.
Everything felt off the place when the other girl finished her cigarette, they kept staring at each other waiting for the next move, just like in a battle everything was so intimate and Olivia's child could feel her wolf vibrating with the anticipation of tasting someone new, even though this time she wasn't really sure if the other girl was going to slap or caress her face, and then, in a blink of an eye without her fully noticing what happened she was being kissed by the mysterious Chae Won's daughter.
Their kiss was natural and itself alone questioned everything the girl was prepared for her whole life. She really never tasted the uncertainty so close, even when she decided to escape from Eden alone and got herself a new pair of scars in her body as a reminder of her mistake, or when she had enough and challenged Sooyoung, finishing the match with Haseul making a bandage over her shameful new shoulder bruise.
The circumstance is that she always got a taste for this kind of rush and soon enough she found herself crushing the other girl's body into a tree, both girls so lost in each other and not recalling anything precisely at all. The urge state she found herself in it wasn't foreign to her, the Chae Won's daughter was beautiful and hearing the moan she gave out when Sooyoung's daughter kissed her neck was more than enough to make her wolf inside roar and feel at ease.
For once she didn't think about war and her parents' constant arguments, either about the fact that she only wanted to feel embraced inside her household, or the point that she never once had a real pack. She let herself feel at loose with the dangerous woman in front of her, who was moaning her name like it was the last time they saw each other, everything inside of her felt balanced and at peace. Maybe this was what she was good at doing, what she was born to do, to satisfy her carnal desires.
The other girl stopped them when her hands had just made their way inside the others skirt, not knowing what happened she looked at the whimpering girl in her arms. The girl was the most perfect vision she ever had the liberty of gazing at, even Eden couldn't be on the same level as this Chae Won's daughter.
"When this war is over we will continue this, think of it as my promise to you, just like I promised myself to those books ending. So please try not to be the hero and die out there? I really intend on knowing you right.".
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you fore reading! Xoxo USER. | c0048025a7c04ba8a697f769882a8cb6 | ['2d3187dc17ab4629b5e3544503472c61'] |
Every Breath You Take
**Author's Note:**
> Yeah, I'm back! Choose Wheesa to this comeback.
>
> Wheein is kind of a troublemaker that listens to The Police and Hwasa is a girl that likes to enjoy herself.
>
> Some sexual tension, nothing major happens though.
>
> Just like always the end is a little open too, tell me in the comments what you think that happened!
>
> Thanks for reading!
>
> Also, squint for Moonsun and Seulrene, cause I'm a sucker for them.
The atmosphere was reeking all kinds of scents and if you paid attention to it, very carefully, you could feel the distinct smell of the hundreds of pheromones being released by the horny teenagers in Irene's living room. How was the party happening in the class president house? Hyejin wasn't really sure but Yongson wanted to see Moonbyul, who was helping Seulgi around with the decorations and she tagged along.
Wheein was with her alpha group of friends, Moonbyul had run away to be with Yongson and she stood there with the rest of the basketball team. All of them searching for a good fuck with any pretty omega from another school but the girl herself was feeling kind of isolated with a half-filled red cup on her hand. For a moment Hyejin wondered what was in the alpha's cup: Vodka? Beer? Juice? Wheein looked like she was having a scotch, the way she gulped it like it was the best thing in the whole party gave it up, but who in the name of god drinks scotch in a high school party? The omega inside Hyejin wanted to go over there and force the alpha to notice her but she knew that wasn’t an option, Wheein was never seen with any kind of love interest, all of her friends would meet beautiful omegas to go home with but Wheein would always say a short no and go away on her own. Hyejin wondered how she could charm the other girl into falling for her, it couldn’t be like her normal technics for dumb and good looking alphas, she needed to develop the desire for her inside the shorter, make herself feel needed and like Wheein couldn’t be satisfied by anyone else except her. Maybe her internal omega was presuming too much, but Hyejin couldn’t care less when she noticed the wanted alpha’s eyes on her, especially on her swinging hips, she really looked good in that skirt, no blame into the latter for looking a little bit. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to pass by Wheein while bouncing her ass for a minute, right?
Turns out she was very incorrect as a really drunk male stopped her, asking for kisses and one simple oversexualized dance. Don’t misunderstand Hyejin, she really loved making out with an alpha who could make her feel good but today she wasn’t in the mood, after all, she just wanted to get blackout drunk because some dumb girl she was craving didn’t want her at all, or anyone for the matter. She was already pretty pissed because the guy wouldn’t leave her alone and Wheein was just there on the wall drinking her fucking scotch like nothing was happening: “Come on Hyejin-si is just a kiss, and we all know that you will love it right? And everyone knows that you are an easy one, come on babe”.
Hyejin was actually wanting to die at this rate, she would really have to scold a fuck boy ass in the middle of the party because he just said some shit to her? Really? It was a Friday night! Come on!: “I’m sorry what did you just call me? What the actual fuck!?”.
You can say the omega wasn’t really having the time of her life, she just wanted to go home and end that English report. And for some reason, at some point during her screaming, Hyejin turn out to be really happy into being tricked to come into this mess, Karma got her lucky again: “Look, man, let her go okay!” - It was Wheein! - “You can go find another omega to yourself, this one here is with me”
Hyejin was in shock. Her silly crush just came here to defend her? And just said that she was claimed in front of another alpha? What the fuck?! The omega was already in paradise and when she noticed things were getting off the hand it was already a bit too late. Both Wheein and the disgusting male were growling and getting ready to fight, people were already pilling up to see and someone was calling Jihyo to handle the fight. A fight in the middle of the party for Hyejin.
A fight in the party! A fight in the party for Hyejin!
Wheein was about to fight another fucking alpha for Hyejin, the girl who she barely knew and talked outside of class, the omega who had a slightly big crush on her and had jasmine scent all over when the smaller would only glance at her. Students who Hyejin didn't know tried to stop it but the alphas were already in each other throat's, grumbling offensive words and forcing Hyejin out of the fight. Yet the omega pulled Wheein with her, refusing to let go of her knight, while other people intervened in the fight and hell broke loose on Irene's house. Hyejin slowly dragged a blinded by anger Wheein with her, fresh air should help the petite girl ease her mind. |
d8ed0d3354a749eeae95b45985ceacc2 | ['2d326af9e05149f58dc993c34a3aad2f'] | "And Shepherd we shall be, for thee my Lord, for thee..." He cut off at the odd looks the others were giving them, then smacked himself on the head. "Damn, sorry, forgot that you guys couldn't have possibly have seen the Boondock Saints..." He'd have to make Steve watch that movie as soon as they got back. He'd probably enjoy it... or hate it. Or just be confused. Probably that last one, with a good helping of the first. What wasn't to love?
If he'd given that line with the Avengers, he knew damn well that Clint would have taken it up immediately, and Natasha would have given them both a fond glare, while Bruce would have smiled, and Thor would have demanded to know what it meant.
Huh. That was strange. Tony actually missed them. He'd known most of them hardly a week, and he missed them. He shrugged it off, pinning it on the fact he missed his tower, not the team. They were part of it now, after all.
He walked faster, jogging a few steps, so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with Steve. The Captain sent him a startled look, eyes widening with concern that made Tony aware that he was probably showing too much emotion openly. He quickly smoothed out his face, made his eyes go blank, and put on a sure, calm smile. This exact look had been fooling the press since he was 17.
It didn't seem to fool Steve for a second, it seemed, because the man muttered to him in a voice barely hiding the worry that was still plain in his eyes.
"Tony, are you alright?" He looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn't figure out what to say. Thankfully, he'd kept his voice low enough that only Tony heard. He shook his head.
"Na, it's all good, Cap." Steve gave him a stern look that would have been a lot more intimidating if there hadn't still been that look under it. Tony sighed, relenting. "Just...a bit home-sick, I think." Steve's eyes got sorrowful, and he nodded, slowly. Tony smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'll be just fine. Mind if I maybe...walk up here with you for a bit? You're... comforting."
He felt absolutely ridiculous as he searched out the words. There was definitely something wrong with him... he would never admit to being so vulnerable to someone. Then again, it was Steve. He could trust him. Hopefully. Trust was a dangerous thing, he'd learned. Still the brilliant smile Steve gave him, followed by the man nodding with a faint blush on his face made it worth it.
"Of course, Tony. I just wish I could do more to help." Tony just shrugged, and they continued on that way in silence for a while. Sometimes it felt like Steve would move closer to him as they walked along, but that could very well have just been because of the un-even path that they followed. He could swear that at times Steve's big blue gaze were fixed on him, but every time he glanced over at the taller man, h e was staring ahead, intently watching the surrounding area.
After a time, it was clear that they had finally drawn into enemy territory, only half a mile or so from the factory they were aiming at. Steve never told him to drop back, but he did so with barely even a sigh. His side where Steve had been was cold, and the home-sickness washed over him again.
Shaking his head, and muttering angrily at himself, he ignored it, trying to bring the cold calm that came with being Iron Man. It was harder without the suit, but he managed as he drew next to Bucky. The two walked in silence, the Sergeant's weapon drawn, and steady in his fists.
Walking silently, they stalked the wooded area, watching. Sometimes Steve would stop and hold up a fist in front of the group, look around, then wave them forward again moments later. The third time he did this, he threw his shield, knocking a Hydra scout out of a tall tree. If the man hadn't been dead from the power of the metal hitting and slicing into him, the fall made sure he was.
Steve looked at the shield with an appreciative eye as it soared back to him, and he caught it smoothly. Tony allowed himself a small smirk. He was damn proud of how well that shield had turned out. Which was good, because if he hadn't been satisfied, it wasn't as if he just had a mound of vibranium lying around to play with.
Again, they moved forward, and for another small fraction of time, there were no enemies. Steve brought them to a stop again, and looked around cautiously before waving them on again, but something caught Tony's attention. The texture on one of the trees was off..
Tony quickly snatched up the small hand-gun Steve insisted he wear, calmly took aim, and just as quickly shot off two rounds into the shadow as it moved behind Steve. The Captain sent him a surprised look over his shoulder, quickly replaced by a grateful one before moving on as his would-be assailant collapsed, mere feet from him, two smoking holes sitting neatly on top of one another, bleeding down his forehead.
Bucky gave him a wide eyes look from the side as he put the weapon away.
"Damn, man. You're a good shot!"
Tony looked at the kid, one eyebrow raised slightly, a small smile beginning to form.
"That surprises you?"
"Well... you're a civilian..." Tony barked out a single laugh, quietly enough for the sound not to travel any farther than between the two of them. | 764231e0b5344996a29d86e80422faf8 | ['2d326af9e05149f58dc993c34a3aad2f'] | " My head is on fire, but my legs are fine... after all, they are mine." Carry On by Fun
As the "doctor" carefully sliced chunks of melted metal from him arm, Tony stared off into nothing. He wished that he had Jarvis. Or a tablet. Or anything, really that would help him get his mind off of the feel of the razor sharp knife digging into his skin, nearly to the bone. Or the searing burn of the disinfectant that was poured on after he would roughly hold a cloth on his arm to soak up the blood. Didn't these people know about painkillers, damn. He had refused to get a tattoo for a reason, after all. Well, three reasons, but the feel of knives going into you over and over again was one of them. 'guess it doesn't matter, in the end.' he smirked to himself, trying not to let the pain show on his face. 'you'll always end up getting stabbed.' by the look on Steve's face, he wasn't doing too good of a job keeping his face blank.
Honestly, Tony was just thankful that the device had only managed to burn into the top of his arm. If it had managed to sever any of the main arteries, or even just enough of them, he'd probably be loosing a hand right now. Maybe part of his arm, too. That would be... inconvenient to say the least.
At least Steve seemed to take this job seriously. Wow, that was probably one of the only times he'd say those words together. The guy was too damn serious about things for his taste, usually. As impossible as it seemed, like this, he seemed to be even more serious, even more focused. That, in itself, was quite a notable feat.
As he slowly studied the small man, he came to a realization: no matter how small the Captain was, even now, he had an aura of authority around him. He really had to wonder how everyone around that man wasn't jumping at every word he said. Maybe it was just that they truly couldn't see an inch past Steve's height. Well, they'd truly be in for a surprise when he came into his own. Tony hoped so badly that he got to see these idiots put in their places by this small man, all while ignoring the fact that he fought to be put into his by the same person.
He only realized that he had been studying at the smaller man when his eyes met Steve's shockingly blue ones, which in turn seemed to be studying his face. He stared a moment longer into his eyes before smiling at him, actually letting it reach his eyes. He was happy to see the Captain, after all. Everything else there was so strange, but at least he had him.
Steve looked startled for a moment before, almost shyly, returning the smile, his eyes happy, but more than anything, just confused. That only made Tony smile wider, and he was forced to fight back fits of laughter as the look of confusion spread from the sky blue eyes to the rest of that young face. He managed to quickly get himself back under control when McDowell's knife slipped slightly and sliced an inch of perfectly healthy flesh, and blushed heavily as he shoved a towel roughly over it to soak up the new stream of blood that had bloomed.
He didn't say anything to the man. After all, that one had been mostly his fault, and he wasn't about to bring attention to that little fact. Steve, on the other hand, glared fiercely at the already shaken man, disappointment glistening on his face.
Tony s smile returned, and he reached out with his good to grasp Steve's cheek between his fingers, feeling for all the world like an old lady, and shook the mans head back and forth slightly, smile growing again as he felt Steve blush under his finger-tips, and seeing the look of shock and confusion snap back into his eyes. With a pat on his cheek, he let him go, forcing himself to be completely still, this time, as Steve's mouth parted slightly, and his head cocked to one side, his golden eyebrows nearly knitted together, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Steve like this was just so damn cute. Had he always been this fun to mess with, or was it purely a 40's Steve trait? Certainly he'd never been this shy. Right? Still staring at Steve, he felt his smile fade, and a frown taking its place. Maybe he had been... maybe they'd just been too busy getting on one another s nerves for him to have been able to tell.
Shaking his head, he forced the smile back onto his face, then turned his attention away from the other man, back to his arm. It seemed that all of the metal had come out of his arm, and was now in the process of being stitched together.
Now, he tried to concentrate on his arm, on the stitches, anything, but all he could focus on was the feeling of Steve's eyes staring at him, as if his eyes were somehow burning into him. Stupid eyes, always somehow managing to see more than they should be able to.
He felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder, which immediately tensed up. Some things just grew to be habit when tortured too much, after all. He turned his head sharply to stare back at Steve, trying to get his shoulder to loosen itself, hoping that Steve didn't think that it was a reaction purely to him. He was, after all, one of the closest things he'd ever had to family, and he didn't need there to be any more hard feelings between the two of them. |
5a6c253c1c1a446ba739b15c46a9c5a3 | ['2d56ad8043854b09a51b6de3afbf4fbd'] | Existing
As the nothingness filled everything, and yet nothing, a small soul drifted through every part of it. It was the smallest being, and yet the only one to ever exist. It looked warm- _but what was warm?_ \- The Little Being asked itself, not aware of how full their mind was, how creative it is, how there is a small genius floating around in nothingness.
The said soul spent years of searching for something, even though there was just a concept of time, the soul still aged.
_The spirit of a future God started to blossom inside of the small, not the only one, being._
As the soul was floating around, it finally saw something other than nothingness, even though you cannot really see nothing. A tiny, yet weirdly shaped spirit was observing how nothingness has never changed.
So many thoughts went through the smallest yet to ever exist soul, but a new life-changing word was stuck inside of the soul's core- lonely. That is how the weirdly shaped spirit looked like. It could have been the oldest spirit to exist, to live, yet it could not have done anything. It was controlling the nothingess, the weird concept of something that does not even exist, yet people nowadays can feel and see what it does.
That is how it all has begun.
The small soul, in the color of gold, looking like a burning flame in a shape of the so well known now Sun, has promised the lonely spirit to make it feel less lonely. To love it, even though it was a newly found concept, the tiniest soul to ever exist has promised to love the lonely spirit, to make it feel like it is worth to exist.
The lonely soul looked like a dust. It was forming into some shapes that would be easier for the Sun Spirit- that is what it called itself, even though no such thing as the Sun existed yet- to communicate with it.
The lonely soul was soon renamed to Time Spirit, and even though the concept of time always existed, the time itself never did and still does not exist. It made the Time Spirit feel less excited to live. Until it actually understood the concept of love and how big it is. The Sun Spirit has just met the Time Spirit, and yet it loved the latter one. The love suddenly became an aspect of Sun and creation followed by, as the smallest being created and formed everything from nothing. The universe, the stars, the void, the planets, the nebulas, the space, different universes all over and finally the Solar System at the end. It was all made for the Time Spirit that also received an aspect of destruction. Sun has said that since he created everything for it, then it should have the power of destroying whatever it did not like.
That was the birth of the universe, the universe dedicated to the Sun's love, the soon to become a Moon Spirit.
* * *
"Kei!"- Hinata shouted excitedly as he saw his God Husband floating around in his spirit form, it was now more human-like.
"Shouyou"- Tsukishima responded to his only love, the God of Gods, and appeared in front of him.
"I just wanted to kiss you, my Moon"- Hinata explained, smiling fondly.
"You don't have to announce it like that, just do it, my Sun"- Kei cupped his only love's cheeks and their lips met, making their spirit forms merge together a little, creating harmony. And this is how the Time Spirit decided to carry on existing, living, it was worth it. | 2ba7af0c00674ffd9ed3772f20117ae7 | ['2d56ad8043854b09a51b6de3afbf4fbd'] |
Fox In His Heart, The Light In His Mind
Hinata loves to imagine Tsukishima as a fox. He doesn’t really know why. Maybe it’s because of how fast he can think before blocking? Maybe… Either way- he just does, deciding to not question it anymore.
Whenever he’s in class, he always doodles on the side of his paper, letting himself get lost in his imagination. His mind always wanders off to that one dream, in which he met a fox at night, it was glowing whenever he got too close, like it was reflecting Hinata’s aura. The fox always ran off deeper in the woods, until they got into a place where the trees were shorter and you could see the moon perfectly. Once Hinata looked up, the dream ended and said boy woke up. It always intrigued him, what could it mean?
Suddenly, one of his classmates whined _“fox again? is this the only thing you can draw?”_ or something along the lines. Hinata didn’t really care, until his mind went back to normal. All of this time he’s been drawing foxes, in different poses each time.
During practice, his eyes were focused on Tsukishima way more often than usual. He shrugged it off in his mind, explaining to himself that he’s just trying to be a better middle blocker, and as much as he hates to admit it, Tsukishima was actually pretty good… and cool. The way his legs work, how his arms stretch and hands get ready for that perfect block… He often imagined how his younger teammate would hold him, how his hands would feel against his skin, how much he’d love to be snuggled into him, how he craves for Tsukishima’s arms to be wrapped around his small body…
Hinata blushed furiously at the thoughts. How could he think about those things? Tsukishima was annoying and always salty! And anyways, Hinata was always annoying in the other middle blocker’s eyes too…
No matter how much time Hinata has spent observing his teammate, he always got amazed by how much Tsukishima resembles a fox. The orange haired boy smiled at the thought. Maybe the fox in his dreams was Tsukishima? Or maybe it had something to do with him at least?
* * *
Tsukishima couldn’t stand it. He felt… discomfort. He felt like he Had To Try whenever Hinata’s eyes were on him. Just like the Moon, it has to reflect the Sun’s light. As much as he hated the idea of him being the Moon and Hinata being the Sun, it was true. Yamaguchi didn’t let him live for at least a month now, snickering and commenting on how he has changed, how Hinata seems to motivate him. Tsukishima just clicked his tongue and said that it’s just because of how annoying Hinata is. It was like that every time.
During several evenings spent with Hinata, tutoring him, Tsukishima realized a few things about him. First- he loves foxes. Second- he daydreams a lot. Third- he gets quieter around him? Maybe it was just Tsukishima’s imagination, but whenever he’s alone with Hinata, which is pretty often lately, he gets quiet, but his looks are like he’s amazed by something. Maybe he’s just trying to make the taller middle blocker tutor him more, since they have exams soon?
Like hell Tsukishima would help him, he needs to study too.
Whenever it’s sunny, Hinata seems to be more energetic. It makes Tsukishima get even more tired until evening.
It’s been 2 months since he stopped complaining about it, sometimes he even missed the feeling of light spreading in his mind when Hinata wasn’t around. It somehow made him addicted to that feeling, made him crave for Hinata’s energy, his smiles, his fidgeting, his voice, his eyes, his lips, his small hands holding onto his shirt or being held in Tsukishima’s bigger hands. He was craving for Hinata. The idea of holding the smaller boy made him, surprisingly, softer, express more emotions, be nicer to him… The thoughts made him blush. Tsukishima sighed in disappointment. He couldn’t believe that he loves Hinata Shouyou, the idiot he’s tutoring, the Sun that spreads light in his mind.
Tsukishima’s first vivid dream was about leading Hinata into the woods. He felt smaller, like he was some kind of an animal. It was night, during full moon, the light illuminating trees. Orange boy seemed to have his own aura, which was way warmer, and whenever he got too close, Tsukishima felt the light in his mind again, seeming to be glowing, reflecting his aura. The dream ended just before Hinata looked up in the night sky, and once Tsukishima woke up, he was tired. Just what the fuck could it mean?
* * *
He just couldn’t ignore those stares anymore. How long can Hinata stare at him? Is he some kind of a statue?!
…
He felt warm. His mind went blank before it got filled with light. Small arms around him, soft hair and a small face pressing against his chest.
His long arms subconsciously ended up being wrapped around the tiny body of his teammate, his… friend. After all, they became friends, they didn’t hate each other.
A soft smile on Tsukishima’s lips made Hinata go all red, it felt like warmth was spreading through their bodies as if they were connected. Why were they hugging again? Oh, right, they won a match. How could he forget? How could he not hear his team cheering? Maybe it was because of Hinata, his Sun, the light he spreads in mind…
* * *
After their first proper hug, Hinata became clingier. Yamaguchi didn’t say a word, but Tsukishima could tell that he already had something on his mind. After all, Tsukishima started to walk back home with Hinata, they had study nights, sleepovers, even their parents accepted them both. But what was there to accept? They weren’t dating.
… |
4309740c83be44d999271a90d74fd89e | ['2d7e0fd4ab3b49eca6c6d79361a5bbb9'] | She inhales deeply (and quietly) and exhales. It’s okay. He hasn’t said anything. She won’t say anything. These three months will whiz by and this never happened. She’s got it. Because there’s no way in heaven or hell she’s throwing away her carefully built career in the mud because the universe tells her that _Tony Stark_ is her soulmate.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there is a pairing you want to read, please leave a comment and I'll do my best. (No incest or Hydra please.)
6. See, I've come to burn your kingdom down
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Seven Devils by Florence + The Machine
He should tell Phil. _He should._ He knows that. He just didn’t know _how_. “Oh, yeah, by the way, the chick who’s been killing a lot of people and has been a general pain in the ass for you is actually my soulmate, so I _won’t_ be killing her and I’ll possibly disappear with her if it comes down to it” would _not_ go down well with Phil.
The doorbell rings and Clint sprints to the door. He doesn’t do stress well. Or at all. And now he’s stressed. A lot. Which means _pizza._ Heaven’s food.
He passes the guy a twenty and tells him to keep the change because he can, he’s not on the streets, scraping for pennies anymore. He picks up a slice, stuffs it in his mouth as he shuts the door behind him, turns around and _screams_. (Which, by the way, _totally_ not attractive when you have a mouthful of pizza.)
Natasha smirks. _God, she’s hot._
_And she knows it and will use it to kill you,_ his brain helpfully supplies.
Thanks brain.
Chewing vigorously, he gestures vaguely, asking her _what the fuck are you doing here?!_
Except she doesn’t move. Well, she breathes. Obviously. But other than that, nothing. Creepy. Clearly, she’s gonna wait for Clint to finish.
Sighing, Clint opens the box and extends it towards her.
What? He’s not heartless. Besides, soulmates. The least he can do is share his pizza.
_He’s in so much trouble._
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there is a pairing you want to read, please leave a comment and I'll do my best. (No incest or Hydra please.)
7. Oh, won't you stay with me?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Stay with Me by Sam Smith
Steve should’ve expected it. Prepared himself considering it was inevitable. She’s—she was well past ninety years old.
But Steve _didn’t_ see it coming. He always knew that he’d outlive all his friends. Maybe not Thor or Vision, but his Commandos? When he woke up, most of them were gone. Peggy is his first…close death. (Except for Bucky, of course, but Bucky is alive while Peggy is clearly gone.)
It fits. Peggy was his first everything. It makes sense that she’d be his first in this too.
A shudder runs through him as he chokes back his tears. Not really healthy, but he’s sick and tired of crying. He’d spent weeks crying after Bucky, after his death, after his _life_. Crying never got him anywhere. Hydra still escaped. Zola lives. Bucky’s still missing. And Peggy…
Peggy was the one who listens. Every week, she listened to him to talk on phone or in person. She _always_ made him feel better and he couldn’t even be there for her in the end. He was supposed to be there, hold her hand, promise her that he’d watch over Sharon and all the great-great-great-great grandkids, _be there_ for her like she did for him…like he should’ve for Bucky.
For the man who won a war, he certainly fails at everything else.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there is a pairing you want to read, please leave a comment and I'll do my best. (No incest or Hydra please.)
8. Take my hand, take my whole life too.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Can't help falling in love by Elvis Presley
The numbers are back, Peggy realizes with a jolt one morning as she prepares her tea. Running her fingers over the raised numbers, her mouth twists painfully. She supposes it was ridiculous to assume she'll be Steve's forever.
This is healthy, she decides. This is necessary and she deserves to be happy. It will be alright.
She stares at the numbers, trying to figure out who it could be considering the countdown is in minutes rather than hours or days. No one really knows how the numbers work, so perhaps it’s someone she knows rather than a stranger she’ll have to get to know. But thinking never got anyone anywhere, so she hurries through her morning routine.
As if Angie read her mind, there’s knocking at the door as Peggy slips her jacket on. “Come on, English, we’re going to miss breakfast at this rate.”
And to think Peggy was actually hurrying. Grinning, she grabs her case and swings the door open.
Oh.
_Oh._
Adopting a mock-glare, Peggy places a hand on her hip. “Exactly how long have you known?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If there is a pairing you want to read, please leave a comment and I'll do my best. (No incest or Hydra please.) | 0e1cceaed57a404d808b926d8cacb047 | ['2d7e0fd4ab3b49eca6c6d79361a5bbb9'] | He doesn’t need to for the moment he steps away from behind the armory, Damianos sees him, catches his movement. Gustav forces himself to meet his gaze, to not find pleasure at his wide eyes and bloodless face. It only takes a moment for the other two to notice. Gustav shifts his gaze.
Nikandros smiles immediately and it feels as if the knife Damianos held to Laurent is twisting in his gut instead. Gustav averts his gaze. “Darling, I thought you’d fallen asleep. We have the games tomorrow, you should rest.”
Gustav doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know if he _can_ speak.
This moment, he imagined it for years…
He imagined Laurent shocked, but pleased. He imagined tears in Laurent’s blue eyes, mirroring his own. He imagined Laurent embracing him. He imagined Laurent smiling widely, relieved. He imagined Laurent furious, a lion’s rage locked within a wisp of a body.
He never imagined a look of pure horror settling in Laurent’s crystal blue eyes.
_Laurent isn’t a child anymore._
He never imagined Laurent taking a step backward, swaying.
_You don’t know Laurent anymore._
He never imagined the flat tone that whispers his birth name.
_“Auguste.”_
2. Chapter 2
_**consolidation** (noun) - t he improvement of a player's position by the reposition of one or more pieces to better square(s), typically after a player's attack or combination has left his or her pieces in poor positions or uncoordinated._
* * *
“Hello, little brother.”
The words are wisps of air struggling through the dam of emotions in his throat, calm despite the whirlpool raging within his heart.
Beside him, Nikandros exhales weakly, stumbling backward, but Auguste doesn’t allow his attention to waver.
_Not yet._
Laurent has grown, his muscles more pronounced, his bones elongated and firm. He holds himself tall and stiff, much like their father used to. His face has matured, skin pulled tight against the bones, and he’s grown into his ears. His eyes flit over Auguste’s rapidly, akin to a hummingbird, yet no emotions pass his face. Auguste has always been able to read Laurent, ever since he was a baby. What had changed so drastically in a few years?
Auguste swallows, banishing the possibilities from his mind, and steps forward, but Damianos interrupts. “Perhaps we should continue this in a more private setting?” His voice is quieter from moments ago and his eyes are trained on Laurent. There is a certain softness about the way he holds himself, his arms outstretched, his eyes calm. Strange.
Laurent nods stiffly, turns on his heel and walks out of the room without a backward glance.
Laurent has always been a bit closed off, but not like this. Not this… _cold_. Auguste grits his teeth and follows, Damianos and Nikandros tailing behind. Oil lamps light the way, placed at every other pillar. Most shine brightly while others flicker, plunging them into darkness. The night keeps them cover. In the night, Auguste doesn’t have to pretend as he has for so many months. In the night, he is his own man again. Auguste keeps his eyes forward despite the urge to glance sideways, to catch Nikandros’ form in his peripheral.
He’s made his decision. He acted. He can’t go back no matter what.
He doesn’t regret it. After all, he is free.
And yet…
They’d had something special. Beyond a master, Auguste thought of Nikandros as a friend, an equal. He had allowed Auguste to see that side of him. That’s who Auguste befriended, who he.
Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Laurent holds the door open and Auguste steps into the room. It is one of the biggest rooms in the fort, reserved for royalty. It takes a quick sweep of the silk sheets on the mattress against the back wall, the porcelain pitchers on the table and the coats in the closet for Auguste to realize this is Laurent’s room. He smiles lightly to himself because the sight is a familiar one. Laurent has always cared for appearances. At least that hasn’t changed.
Maybe this means Laurent will listen to him, will believe him. Laurent had trusted him, once. Is that enough to believe him again? Laurent might even know more about this than Auguste has been able to gather. He is traveling with Damianos, the son of Theomedes, the one who was betrayed his bastard brother, Kastor. From what he could decipher after Damianos’ death and the attempt at Nikandros’, Kastor is responsible to both of them and perhaps even Theomedes’ ill health. Yet he has not been able to connect his own fate to Kastor. He’s missi—
Auguste jumps at a sudden movement, a flash that shoves Nikandros to the door, metal glinting at his throat. Laurent stands before him, stiff and unrelenting, the dagger digging into the darkened skin. Nikandros’ fingers curl into fists, yet hang uselessly by his sides for one wrong breath and the blade will be coated in his scarlet blood.
Damianos reacts faster than Auguste does, moving between Laurent and Nikandros. Or trying to. Without hesitation, Damianos touches the arm that holds a life in its grip.
“Laurent, stop.” It’s a plea and command and Auguste notes the familiarity with which Damianos speaks his brother’s name.
“ _Darling,_ ” Laurent spits out and it takes a moment for Auguste to realize that Laurent is repeating Nikandros’ words rather than referring to Damianos. But he’s not wrong about the strings that encircle Damianos and his brother. There is something more between the two than a political partnership.
Nikandros opens his mouth to reply, but Damianos glares him into silence. “Laurent, let’s talk about this. _Please._ ” Damianos’ voice grows more urgent and Auguste steps closer to notice the singular trail of blood traveling down Nikandros’ neck.
“He has nothing to do with this.” Auguste finally finds his voice. “Brother—Laurent, don’t kill an innocent man. He didn’t know any of this.”
Laurent doesn’t move.
“You’re his slave,” Laurent states, his voice strange. |
22c030c735c342c690f793e82864b704 | ['2d7ffd7fd27e42f4b68e69df516f1e9e'] |
**Author's Note:**
> SEQUEL TO 'THE ONE WHERE JOEY TEACHES CHANDLER HOW TO HUG'.
> It's not vital for you to read that one before this one, but I do recommend it.
>
> Enjoy!
>
> -Alex
“You know if the shorter person is behind the taller person, it’s called jet-packing, right?” Joey mumbled into the back of Chandler’s shoulder. “It’s not spooning.”
Chandler frowned.
“Really? Even when they’re only, like… 3 inches shorter than you?”
“Hey! I’m not that much shorter than you!” Joey complained, sitting up slightly so he had a better view of Chandler’s face.
“Fine. 2 inches.”
“At least my dick is at least 2 inches longer than yours.” Joey grumbled, turning to lie on his back as Chandler chuckled and rolled onto his side, facing Joey.
“Awe, don’t sulk. My dick is only 3 inches so yours is still small, honey!” Joey slapped him playfully, pulling the duvet over his face to hide his smile. “You are an actual child.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a teenager.”
“Well, you’re horny enough to be one, I guess.” Chandler deadpanned, flicking the area of forehead he could see as Joey slowly pulled the duvet away from his face.
“How did this turn from me teaching you how to cuddling into horny teenagers?” Joey wondered out loud, staring up at the ceiling. Chandler shrugged.
“I don’t know, but you still haven’t actually taught me anything about cuddling other than the smaller person lying behind the bigger person is jet-packing. And I’m not exactly the type of guy to go for someone taller than me. I look pathetic enough as it is.”
“You don’t look pathetic.” Joey frowned, ignoring the rest of what Chandler had said. “Except maybe when you wear those sweater vests. I mean, seriously dude? At least make them leather!” Chandler rolled his eyes in response, lying down on his back next to Joey, who in turn rolled onto his side to face Chandler.
“Thanks, man. But this is gay enough for me. Can we get to the cuddling now?” Joey raised an eyebrow.
“I’m choosing cuddling with you over a sandwich, feel honoured!” Joey laughed, shuffling closer to Chandler and resting his head on his chest and turning so he was lying more on his back. He pulled Chandler’s arm around his neck and tried to relax all his muscles. “This is called ‘Shingles’. Don’t ask me why.”
“It’s comfortable.” Chandler mumbled, holding back a sneeze when Joey’s hair tickled his nose. “Except for the tickling.”
“Sorry, man.” Joey tried to look sympathetic. “The tickling is unavoidable.”
“Wow, a 5 syllable word. Well done, Joey!”
“Stop trying to change the subject away from the gay.” Joey glared at his best friend. “The next one is pretty similar really. You stay in the same place, but the girl turns onto his stomach with her head closer to being tucked into your neck.” Joey turned onto his front, repeating what he’d described and clenching Chandler’s shirt in one hand.
“I like this one better.” Chandler stated. Joey asked him why, curiously. “Because, I’m guessing, it’s easier to do this?” Chandler placed his lips on Joey’s forehead and left them to rest there for a while.
“Based on what you’ve taught me so far, girls would like that, right?”
Joey found himself very lucky that Chandler couldn’t see his smile, but tried to hide the small grin more by burying his face further into his roommate’s neck. He nodded quickly and hoped Chandler couldn’t feel his skin heating up.
“Yeah, yeah they definitely would.” He murmured. “Anyone would.” He made sure he said the end of the sentence much quieter, even though Chandler would probably be able to hear it anyway. Luckily, he didn’t say anything.
Joey paused for a while, running through a few thoughts he had in his head. It wasn’t often he had many thoughts, but these ones just wouldn’t go away.
“Hey, Chandler?”
“Hm?” Chandler replied, running his hand slowly through Joey’s hair.
“Does it bother you when people assume we’re a gay couple?” Chandler frowned.
“No, why would you think that?” Joey shrugged slightly, trying to find a good way to word his answer. He didn’t want to hurt Chandler in any way.
“Well, you always seem to be… I dunno, offended when people assume it, I guess. But we are very couple-y, even though it does seem to surprise you when anyone thinks we’re gay.”
“We’re couple-y?” Chandler questioned.
“Well, yeah.” Joey snorted. “We are parents to a chick and a duck. We have kids, Chandler!”
“Loads of people have pets!” Chandler argued. Joey decided to continue.
“We hug way more than any other straight friends do.”
“Hugs are comfortable. And your hugs are nice and warm. And you’re cute when you hug. You become this teddy bear like person.” Joey raised an eyebrow.
“We call each other cute.”
Chandler paused, unable to come up with a suitable answer for that one. That was a very true claim. But friend complement each other like that, right?
“When I moved out, we both treated it like a breakup. It was so bad, that I ended up running right back to you because I missed you so much. I realised that place wasn’t home because wherever you were had become home.” Chandler moved away from Joey slightly so that he could see his face, but couldn’t see any sense of him lying, so pressed his face back into Joey’s hair.
“I didn’t realise you felt that way, honestly.” Joey shrugged again, trying to be as casual as possible.
“I kinda have a reputation to keep up.” He grinned. He went silent for a minute, thinking over what he and Chandler had just talked about. Briefly, but at least he’d been able to get a few things off his chest.
“I don’t get offended, Joe.” Chandler muttered, softly. Joey didn’t reply, instead waiting for him to continue. “It just reminds me of my Dad, and my Dad’s kind of an asshole. I don’t wanna be like him. But I don’t want to have the same personality as him, I couldn’t give any less of a fuck about his sexual preferences.”
Joey felt a little more reassured by Chandler’s words, settling back into his hold as he felt his eyelids getting heavy. He didn’t bother opening his eyes when Chandler shifted himself out from underneath Joey and slotted himself behind his instead. Joey shuffled backwards as far as he could go.
“This is proper spooning.”
**Author's Note:**
> Enjoy?
>
> As always, feedback is loved and recommendations are highly appreciated!
>
> Thanks for reading. | 39e9cfcea73b48f789ce05582c3dbe9a | ['2d7ffd7fd27e42f4b68e69df516f1e9e'] |
“THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Joey joined in with the cheering, staring at the countdown on the TV as couple after couple made out at the chime of New Year. He grinned at the fireworks started, the loud bangs coming from the TV, but Joey was pretty sure he could hear multiple firework displays going on outside the apartment.
He saw Ross and Rachel near the drinks table, her arms around his neck and his arms around her waist.
He saw Monica and Richard in the kitchen, eyes closed and looking like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
He saw Phoebe and Mike embraced softly, swaying from side to side as they romantically celebrated the turn of the century.
But what killed him was when he saw Chandler. His roommate was stood near the door, doing nothing short of full on making out with some random guy he’d met a couple of days before. His name was Tom or something. Joey decided to go with ‘Something’. The grin slowly dropped from Joey’s face, his eyes glistening as he watched, not being able to draw his eyes away from the pair.
God damn it, he wished he was Something. He wanted nothing more than to have Chandler stare into his eyes, whispering a quiet ‘Happy New Year’ meant only for him before ducking down slightly and kissing him. But no, instead Joey was stuck with no one, watching from the sidelines as his lover ducked out of the girls’ apartment, probably to fuck Mr. Something.
Joey decided to stop calling the guy ‘Something’, and settle with Tom.
Phoebe pulled away from Mike, frowning over his shoulder at Joey.
“Are you okay?” She mouthed. Joey nodded, shooting her a sad smile. He wanted to go back to his apartment and curl up in his bed, but he didn’t really want to hear Chandler’s moans. Not when he wasn’t the one causing them, anyway.
So instead, Joey stayed at the party. He sort of hated it. He blamed the party for being the reason he wasn’t in bed with Chandler right now, but he knew no one but himself was to blame. Joey had always been great with the ladies, so how come he couldn’t get his stupid ass to just tell Chandler that he’d fallen hell over heels with him?
Maybe he was just scared of rejection. Yeah, that must be it. I mean, Chandler was his roommate, so if he didn’t return Joey’s feelings, then that’d make it awkward, right? And then he’d move out and stop talking to Joey and then Joey would be kicked out of the group because there’s no way the group would pick Joey over Chandler and they’d known Chandler longer. So if speaking to Joey made Chandler uncomfortable then the group would just stop talking to Joey. And then Joey would have to move because he wouldn’t be able to face the group and…
Joey cut himself off from his rant in his head. Why was he being so stupid? The dark haired man jumped up from his seat, basically running across the hall into his and Chandler’s apartment.
He froze when he saw Chandler sat on his own in his chair, a beer in his hand as he stared at the blank TV.
He swivelled in his chair as he heard the door open, jumping to his feet when he realised it was Joey.
“Joe? What’re you doing here? I would’ve thought you’d be enjoying the party.” Joey shrugged, not really answering the question. He shuffled forward, leaning against the foosball table.
“What happened to that guy? Tom, was it?” It was Chandler’s turn to shrug.
“It just didn’t feel right.”
“Oh.” Joey murmured. “I, ugh…” He trailed off, scratching his head as he cautiously took a step forward.
“What, Joe?” Chandler asked, walking past Joey to get another beer from the fridge.
“I should have, ugh. I probably should have done this a long time ago.” Joey hesitated, biting his lip as he turned around to face Chandler again. “Oh, wait.” Joey took the beer from Chandler’s hands, putting it down on the counter and stepping closer to his roommate.
He lifted his hand slowly, resting it gently on Chandler’s shoulder. The taller man frowned.
“What are you do-“. He was cut off as Joey slammed his lips onto Chandler’s, pushing him backwards into the door. He brought his other hand up to Chandler’s neck, playing softly with the short hairs at the back of his head. He felt Chandler wrap one arm around his waist, the other embedding itself in his hair, pulling his head impossibly closer.
Joey pulled back once he’d run out of breath, staring into Chandler’s eyes. His roommate frowned and bad thoughts immediately ran through Joey’s head.
“I’m so sorry, oh no.”
“Joey, shut up.” Joey closed his mouth, scanning Chandler’s face for any emotions. All his got was confusion.
“Are you… are you standing on your tiptoes?” Joey froze.
“Um… No?” Chandler smiled softly, pushing Joey back down to his normal height before leaning down to kiss him again. Joey smiled into the kiss.
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” Chandler murmured against his lips once they’d broken the kiss, running his hand through Joey’s hair.
“Yeah, I’ve wimped out of doing this like… 10 times just this week.” Joey chuckled, still breathing deeply.
“You’re an idiot.” Chandler stated, switching their positions so Joey’s back was against the door.
“But am I your idiot?” Joey asked, trying to look cheeky more than anything, but really just ended up looking adorably hopeful.
“Eh, I dunno. I mean, neither of us have technically asked the other out yet. Right now, we’re basically friends with kissing benefits.” Chandler smirked, brushing his thumb across Joey’s cheek, who rolled his eyes. Chandler gasped. “Did you just roll your eyes at me? I’m supposed to be the sarcastic one!”
Joey laughed, burying his face in Chandler’s neck. Chandler brought his chin down to rest on Joey’s shoulder.
“Chandler Muriel Bing, will you officially be my boyfriend?” Joey mumbled, kissing the side of Chandler’s neck.
“Joseph Francis Tribbiani, yes I will.”
**Author's Note:**
> These are getting worse, I swear too Chuck.
> Anyway, same as usual. Feel free to give constructive criticism or recommendations.
> Although please consider that I don't write smut because once I tried to and I ended up laughing so hard that I had a major asthma attack and ended up in hospital. Seriously. And I'm a terrible liar so imagine how it went when I had to explain to the doctor why I almost died.
>
> -Alex |
9fad4b5b304244058984934ade6c988e | ['2d8c3b88103f4dc48547509cd887ed5e'] |
Pseudo Tempo
**Author's Note:**
> for all the lotor stans
Ever since the incident, Allura had patiently sat beside the cryo-replenisher, a hand permanently hovering over the cold glass restricting her from Lotor’s paled skin. She hadn’t eaten properly, slept, or talked to anybody in quintants. How could she? Her body was wracked with an unquenchable guilt, filling every crevice so that there was no room left for basic needs. All that was on her mind was the incident.
The smell of staling food goo was ever-prominent as it had remained at her table side for hours now, along with a glass of water. The crew had long since retired to their sleeping quarters after an attempt at small talk and persuading Allura to eat a little. All they could manage was to leave her with essentials, a soft blanket and a pillow. Allura took in a faint breath, finally lowering her spiritless hand from Lotor’s container. The exhaustion was beginning to creep up on her. Her eyes were heavy with drowsiness, and she couldn’t help but lean back against the pillow on her chair, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She could find no comfort or warmth, however. Such sensations were fruitless; they were ineffective in restoring the damaged man before her. Only time could heal him now.
The patience required...it was purely agonizing, yet she had ran out of tears to cry. After the echo of her final sob, the only sound remaining was the humming of electricity. It had been that way for hours.
She searched Lotor’s face for any sign of stirring before sighing shakily, her bloodshot eyes stinging as they threatened to spill more nonexistent tears. It was then that she spoke for the first time in days. “L-Lotor, I...” Her voice was raspy and weak from lack of use. “I know it’ll never make up f-for what I’ve done but... I’m so truly sorry. Please, please, just come back to me! I beg of you!” She called out to Lotor’s immobile body, overcome with emotions once more. Burying her head into her blanket, she began to weep hoarsely in utter despair, bringing her feet up onto the chair and hugging herself.
It was as if fate had plans for Allura and Lotor that night. With a dazzling flash of blue and a whir, the barrier separating the two faded. Caught off guard, Allura glanced up from her resting place to find a lean purple man falling towards her. She barely had time to squawk before he had collapsed on top of her, knocking her from her chair and leaving them in a tangled heap on the floor.
Allura groaned in pain and discomfort but was quick to react to the situation, rolling Lotor’s limp, frosty body from off of her and onto his back. Getting to her knees, she clutched Lotor’s hand desperately. “Oh, oh, you’re alive, oh thank goodness, I-I thought I’d never see you again...I thought you were going to die...I waited for s-s-so long...” She whimpered through raggedy sobs, stroking Lotor’s cheek with her free hand tenderly. His sapphire eyes blinked, a weary but puzzled expression passing over his angular visage.
“I... Where..?”
“We’re in the medical wing, Lotor...everything is going to be alright now. We can fix this, I know we can,” Allura responded almost immediately, her voice cracking as she was overwhelmed by a vortex of feelings. Lotor grunted softly as he raised himself with his palms, struggling to sit up even with Allura’s assistance. His chest rose and fell with slow but heavy breaths as he took in his surroundings, brushing his hand against the tiled floor. Then, at last, he met Allura’s gaze.
“Allura...”
As soon as the recognition settled, so too did his body. Relief flushed throughout him and he took the princess into his strong arms, cradling her as if he never wanted to let go. Allura gasped almost silently, her eyes of sky blue widening in surprise. Shakily, she reached up to clutch the fabric at his chest, resting her head against his torso. “Yes...it is me. I was so awfully worried about you...”
“Allura...” Lotor’s arms coiled a little more tightly around her.
“Lotor...”
“Princess.” They tightened again.
“...Lotor?” Something wasn’t right. Tension made its swift return to Lotor’s body, and a trembling accompanied it. Allura sensed a nervous energy repelling her from Lotor as if they were two negative magnets trapped in embrace. Listening to her instincts, she cautiously pulled herself away from him, a frown quick to return to her face as she gazed upon his own.
Cold, bleak, and somber was the countenance she was greeted with. His eyes were impenetrable, as if they held no happiness and knew no peace. Her fingers clinging on his shirt loosened as concern for the other struck her like freezing water. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
There was only silence...at least momentarily, until the prince pushed Allura off of him with just enough force to convey his then realized anger. He stumbled to his feet with a frustrated groan, holding the table for support and panting softly while glaring daggers at Allura. Bewildered by this revelation, Allura’s brow only furrowed further, her lips parting slightly in increasing offence.
“Yes. You did,” came the now bitter response of Lotor. It only startled Allura further.
“But, Lotor—“
“But, _Princess_ ,” he spat back mockingly, clenching his jaw as he dug his fingers into the table. “Did you believe those events would simply slip my mind? That I would awaken and immediately forgive you? Oh, sweet princess...you are _indeed_ one to romanticize.” The harsh, icy words sliced Allura’s fragile soul into ribbons.
Dismayed, she stood, her hands in fists at her side. “I was never asking for your forgiveness. You should be asking for _mine._ My only desire was that you be safe, nothing more!” | 518dfaa8a64d48989b06e1dd7718409c | ['2d8c3b88103f4dc48547509cd887ed5e'] | Karkat absentmindedly lifts up a side of his blanket as he scrolls through a list of pirated movies, welcoming me beside him. I have to double-check that he's talking to me (I don't know why the hell he wouldn't be but a man's gotta be sure), before I scooch up beside him, closing the blanket around the both of us.
Karkat’s as warm as ever, and it doesn’t take long for me to lower my guard and relax against him as the movie begins. Adam Sandler’s schemes may work for the time being, but his deceit stinks. I could never imagine lying about something as serious as love. Honestly, who the hell does he think he is? A dumb dude who doesn’t have any kind of firm grasp on his feelings and relationships? Lame as fuck if you ask me.
10 minutes pass.
20 minutes.
30 minutes.
Over the course of the movie we’ve been huddled together, and my weight has slowly allowed itself to sink against Karkat. I yawn obnoxiously, stretching and resting my head on Karkat’s lap, curling up into a little ball. Karkat knows exactly what the fuck is going down right now.
**KARKAT:** WHAT ARE YOU DOING.
**DAVE: **shhhh
**DAVE:** just like old times
**KARKAT:** … HEH.
**KARKAT:** YEAH. JUST LIKE OLD TIMES.
Karkat places a palm to my head, gently scratching it in my favorite spot. The spot he knows will knock me out faster than you can say “This will knock Dave out really fast.”
I sigh blissfully as my eyes flutter closed. A few moments later, the music fades out into a comfortable silence. It’s nap time, bitches.
* * *
**DAVE:** zzz
**DAVE:** zzz
**DAVE:** zzzzzzz_SNORT _
**DAVE:** mmf… hrrg
**DAVE:** wh…
By the time I wake up, Just Go With It is practically finished. I squint through the darkness at the screen, which is blurred due to my recent and kind of unfortunate awakening. It looks like Adam Sandler is confessing his love to Jennif-- oh, yup there they go. They’re making out now. Awesome. I roll my eyes and groan quietly, shifting onto my back to gaze up at Karkat.
The fool has puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, as you can imagine. He always weeps like a baby at the end of even the worst romcoms imaginable. His hand is resting on my arm as if I provide some kind of consolation, and he sniffles. It appears as though he hasn’t noticed that I’m awake.
Maybe it’s just that shojo sparkle of teardrops in his eyes, or the pink flush against his skin, or the warmth of his body against mine, or the fact that I am still half asleep and I am utterly in love with this moron, but I feel convinced. This is how it was always supposed to be. He is my home. He is my oasis, my sanctuary, my reason for existing. That really be devotion, pure and true.
There is some magic ass soulmate bullshit in the air tonight. I could keep staring at him, or I could act. I know what Obama would want. Dave… Just go with it.
Lord forgive me for what I must wabadeebadoo.
**KARKAT:** O-OH HEY, YOU’RE AWAKE. YOU MISSED THE BEST PA--
**DAVE:** shut up and let me kiss you
Blatant shock puts a dent into every feature on his face as I sit upright, taking him by the back of his neck. Our lips crash together less-than gracefully, and Karkat makes a barely audible squeak of surprise. I kiss him hungrily, his lips parting invitingly almost immediately. I use my free hand to tug the blanket further over us, so we are consumed by nothing but darkness and each other’s shared bodily heat.
I pull away abruptly to busy myself with his neck, leaving love bites from his ear to his collar. As I continue, I can feel Karkat’s grip begins to tighten around my back, his claws leaving indents in my skin. He murmurs softly to himself all the while as if trying to convince himself that this is real. It doesn’t take much more for him to let a quiet moan slip from between his teeth.
I can feel my boxers begin to tent, and I quickly stop mid-hickey to whisper to him reassuringly.
**DAVE:** (its ok i promise)
**DAVE:** (it doesnt matter what pace we take i want to do this)
**DAVE:** (but i need you to lead the way)
In place of a reply, Karkat takes my hand shakily, his breathing slightly labored. He steadily brings my hand to the rim of his boxers before he pauses. I can feel his nocturnal eyes watching me in the dark.
**KARKAT:** (are you sure you want to do this? i don’t want you to have another panic attack.)
**DAVE:** (seriously im ok i want to make you feel good)
**KARKAT: **(you already do make me feel good.)
**DAVE:** god dammit karkat just fucking GO WITH IT
**KARKAT:** ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, JESUS.
Karkat heaves a sigh, and begrudgingly but slowly guides my hand past the rim and towards his crotch. It only takes a moment before I come into contact with something completely foreign to me. It’s slimy, and it squirms with every feather-light touch. Karkat’s breath hitches quietly as his bulge coils itself around my fingers, his body stiffening against my own. I swallow my nervousness, stroking the length up and down, freeing it from underneath the fabric.
Twitching and whimpering softly, Karkat buries his flushed face into the crook of my neck. He is insanely adorable, and I have no idea why I was so scared of getting that alien dick to begin with. This is incredible, and I’m actually super fucking horny. This isn’t weird at all.
**KARKAT:** (f...fuck… that’s so good, dave…)
**DAVE:** it is?
**DAVE:** i mean yeah of course it is
**KARKAT:** (mmh… hah… i need to… share this feeling… with you…) |
203f6390f6574e86b85e66108b8335dd | ['2d90c2a618394e7db6c7004c3e2b81da'] | Harry just continued. “Were you just toying with me? What, was this all a large joke-”
Draco started. “Fuck no, Potter! I was literally dragged away- against my will- at midnight- wait hold on. Did you just say my name? Do you know who I am?”
Harry snorted, and moved down the hall, peaking into archways and doorways until he found one with sofas. He twitched his wand in the direction of the fireplace, which instantaneously lit up with a roaring fire. In turn, Draco, who had frantically moved to follow him after pushing the front door shut, felt his other wand twitch in response to the display of powerful wordless magic. At least the bathrobe was roomy.
“Well?” Draco demanded, crossing his arms and tapping his foot at Harry, who had sprawled on one end of the sofas in a huff. Harry scoffed.
“Really, Draco,” Harry said with a snort. Draco’s breath caught at the use of his name. But then he supposed, coming to the Manner had been a pretty sure give away. “Did you think you could get away with just casting a half-arsed glamour on your face and changing your hair color? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize that haughty sneer of yours or the way you held yourself? You even recognized me through my glamour!”
“Well,” Draco sniffed, sitting carefully on the edge of the sofa. “Your glamour was crap.” He shifted, hunching in on himself. Softly, he continued. “And I was going to tell you. That was going to be part of the second condition. That we would accept the other without the glamours, or no deal.”
Harry chuckled fondly, but exasperatedly. “I’m still mad at you, you know,” he said with a small smile. Draco frowned, shifting a little closer and angling his body towards Harry’s. “Why did you leave?” Harry’s eyes found his, and Draco could see how vulnerable he was in this moment. “Jesus, Draco, I was really worried there for a minute,” Harry said, hands coming up hesitantly to hold Draco’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Draco breathed in. Draco breathed out. And then told him the whole story from the very beginning, which seemed to have started days ago and not just earlier that day.
“What,” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “And it just so happened to strike midnight during what was supposed to be the best kiss I’ve had in awhile-”
He froze, and Draco grew a smirk. “Oh, well then, in that case, Potter, I suppose I will have to make it up to you. Draco moved forward only to stop with a whine as Harry held up a hand to stop him. “What now?” He said against Harry’s fingers.
“If this is going to happen, I want it to be as Harry and Draco, with no glamours in the way. You have conditions to be met.” Draco’s breath caught, and his heart melted. “How else will I know you haven’t grown a mustache or gone hideous?” Draco scowled and Harry preformed another wordless spell to remove first the glamours on his hair, and then the one on his face, before he casually dropped his wand into the sofa to be able to continue to hold Draco’s face. Harry seemed enthralled. Draco was not amused.
“Shut it, Potter,” he said, even as he ran his hands through Harry’s soft hair.
“Harry,” Harry replied grinning, returning the motion in kind.
Draco smiled. “Harry. Shut it, Harry.” And finally, their lips touched.
Jeni watched them move into each other from her place on the windowsill, tickled with happiness. As apprehensive as she had been for combining the two assignments, both feeling guilty and both deserving forgiveness, she could not have asked for a better turnout. “Beat that, Cinderella,” she said, and promptly popped away.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much for reading, it means more than you probably know. | 4754209b4e5444b69c86f4796d721432 | ['2d90c2a618394e7db6c7004c3e2b81da'] |
The Bulletin Board
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> Hey friends this is a quick apology for never posting anything new. This story is completely for Sherry, and was written in her DMs on a whim. Love you, <3
>
> A large thank you to my beta and hero, Sam at XxTheDarkLordxX who writes the most amazing stories that you all should read all the time every day. I know I do.
The flickering artificial light played over Draco's smooth and sleep ridden features as Harry looked around his flat. Everywhere as far as the eye could see there was evidence of Draco.
His sweater was strewn across the armchair in the corner, while his socks peeked out from beneath the sofa. Another sock was dangling from on top of the cabinet, but harry had long since given up wondering where these socks had come from and how Draco had so many in the first place.
A photo of the two of them stared down at him from above the softly humming TV, Draco smiling and laughing as Harry spun him around in a circle. It had taken Harry ages to see that his favorite photo of his parents was a perfect parallel to this one.
There was a scuff on the wall near the door, where Draco had single handedly tried to drag a whole sofa into the room, because "where do you expect to watch movies from with me? The armchair? I don't fancy you waking me up because your legs fell asleep. And the manor doesn’t even _have_ a film… player thing. Besides, every proper living room needs a sofa."
The burn mark on the entryway had been made when harry had tried to make a flaming Alaska for Draco, but couldn't quite get the spell for the flames right, and the reason for the nick in the cabinet had long since been forgotten, only that it had been _Draco’s_ fault, whatever he might try to argue.
On the wall to the right there was a bulletin board with darts sticking out in an array of chaos and color. The board was separated in half by a broad green and red line, the right being Harry's and the left Draco's. It was their bucket list board, and every time Harry's thought Draco should try something, or Draco thought Harry needed something else in his life, they would write on pieces of folded over colored paper and tack them to the wall.
Every couple of days, when they had a moment to themselves and Draco had come over to Harry's flat, they would throw a dart at the board, and whatever the dart hit, they would then do. They took turns, and even numbered days were Harry's while odd numbered days were Draco's.
Harry spied a new, plain white piece of paper on his board. He never meant to look, but it looked so intriguing, and Draco always made such a big deal about putting a new piece of paper up, something he had failed to do with this one. Gently removing himself from Draco's sleepy embrace with a kiss to his soft hair, Harry padded over to the board, running his hand lightly over the dividing marker.
He had so many fond memories from this board.
The first time he took draco driving and the first time Draco took harry to a "proper British wizarding tea establishment" (never mind the lifetime ban they had incurred from giggling too much and disturbing the other patients). The first time Draco had tried fish and chips at a seaside hole in the wall, and then proceeded to stuff the whole meal down his gob, eyes wide. The first time Draco had taken him flying at the manor. The first time Harry had taken Draco for a bike ride around the Thames (never mind the invisible training wheels he had had to put on Draco's bike). The first time Draco had slept over had been because of a note Harry had put on Draco's side, and the first time Harry cooked Draco breakfast in bed from one on his side. Sexual favors were also very common to see up on the board, and always with a willing recipient, and Harry started to get a little hot just thinking about what could be on the little slip of paper.
Harry reached out and smoothed open the white note against the wall, standing out quite brilliantly against the contrast to the many colors that could be seen elsewhere
_ask me to move in with you_
Harry's heart stuttered in his chest
_ask me to move in with you_
Harry looked down on his watch. Friday the 13th, 11:46 pm. There was still time.
Harry took a hand full of colorful paper from the pocket hanging on the wall and started scribbling madly before saying fuck it and transfigured all the parchment on the wall on Draco's side to say the same thing.
11:49
He moved quickly to kneel at Draco's side, and slowly kissed him awake, peppering kisses all over his face. Draco hummed happily, but still batted him aside with a tired hand.
"Go 'way. 'M sleepin."
11:51
"Draco, love. Come on, you need to get up. You have to throw a dart."
Draco grumbled sleepily, "'S too late. Wai' for 'morrow."
Harry tugged at his arm.
11:53
"Needs to be today Draco. Needs to be you. Come on, sweety."
Harry got him up on his feet and put a dart in his hand. "Here you go, love." Draco glared at him.
11:54
And threw the dart.
11:55
The dart hit the farthest edge of the farthest piece of paper. But it was enough.
Harry hugged Draco from the side and kissed his neck. "Go on, read it." |
66232d656add45e2995b8952b502f41f | ['2d9faf6a576542e2ad4a97b5b525246d'] | 1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> this idea is really LINK's. you should all read her LINK.
>
> this has zero plot, is not chronological, and is 100% self-indulgent. posting here because it was getting too unwieldy for tumblr. updated sporadically.
**bathroom sharing**
"How much longer are you going to take in there?" Rin shouted through the door.
"Ush iv me a init. Um fwossing," came back, garbled. Rei emerged a minute later. "Flossing is a very important part of maintaining dental hygiene. It takes time to do it properly, but I never skip it."
Rei took a look at the way Rin’s lip was curling back and decided he would keep his musings on dental hygiene to himself while they were roommates.
* * *
**the sweater**
"I said I was sorry," Rin said.
Rei pulled at the shrunken sweater in dismay. “You said you knew how to do laundry.”
"I do know how to do laundry!" Rin insisted. "I’ve been living alone for years."
"Did you check the care tag? Why didn’t you check the care tag?" Rei started getting a little hysterical.
Rin mentally groped for a way to avert the impending crisis. “I’ll… get you a new one?” he offered awkwardly.
Rei pulled himself together and adjusted his glasses. He thrust the sweater into Rin’s hands. “Make sure you get the monogram in the right font.”
Rin was left standing in the hallway of their apartment, wondering exactly where to obtain a butterfly print, monogrammed cashmere-wool blend sweater.
* * *
**morning run**
Sometimes their schedules line up and they nod to each other silently as they sit at the entrance of their apartment and tie their shoelaces. They run quietly through the streets of just-light Tokyo and when they get back, Rei prepares a breakfast with the perfect amount of protein for recovery. Then, just like that, their schedules are out of sync again and they could each be living alone except for a stray glass or the sound of a running shower.
2. Chapter 2
It starts with Nagisa. He shows up to their housewarming party with a bonsai and unceremoniously dumps it into Rin's hands. Rin eyes it skeptically. "What are we supposed to do with this?"
"Well, I wanted to get you guys a pet, but Mako-chan said it probably wouldn't work out since you're both so busy all the time, so I got you something that's less maintenance. The shopkeeper said this one is supposed to bring good health and be calming," Nagisa grins widely. "And we all know both of you could use some calming."
Rin sets the plant on a windowsill. "Thanks, I guess."
"Oh! Before I forget--" Nagisa pulls a small pamphlet out of his pocket. "Here, Rei-chan, I got care instructions from the shopkeeper. I knew you would want to read about it."
Rei nods and thanks Nagisa more graciously than Rin, who takes one more glance at the tiny tree and almost instantly forgets about it after.
In the morning, Rei comes out of his room red eyed and yawning.
"What happened to you?" Rin asks.
"I stayed up late researching how to care for the bonsai Nagisa got us." Rei folds his arms and frowns. "I don't think that shopkeeper was very knowledgeable. He was right about the attributes, but the shape the tree is in is all wrong. It doesn't do anything for the tree and besides, it's completely not beautiful this way. It'll take me months to re-train it..."
Rin blinks at his roommate and tunes him out. This was too much to deal with before coffee.
* * *
Six months later, Rin feels like he's been engulfed in a forest of miniature trees. Rei has one on every available window, wherever sunlight comes in. He's cleared a shelf of fitness and training books for horticultural books. A cabinet in their kitchen is dedicated to Rei's tools, extra dishes, wire, plant food. It's not that Rei isn't meticulously clean, neat, and unobtrusive in his new interest--after Nitori, Rin knows how to deal with a mess anyway--it's just nerve wracking living with all these tiny trees. Rin casually let the blinds drop once and immediately whipped back around to catch them before the weight and momentum crushed a pine Rei had "rescued" and was in the process of re-training into a new shape. Rei went to stay with his family in Iwatobi for a weekend and left Rin with care instructions ten pages long.
Rin rubs a hand over his face. Calming. Nagisa said it was supposed to be calming. Sometimes Rin wishes he'd gotten them a pet instead.
But other times, Rin comes home at night and sees Rei sitting by the window with one of his trees. He carefully consults a book before trimming off a branch or wrapping a wire around another. Or maybe Rei doesn't have anything with him at all. He just sits, admiring his work. He spots Rin and presents the plant. "The new shape is settling in. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"You're the expert. But yeah, it is looking better," Rin concedes. At least one of them is getting something out of it. | 08b5aa2a793040dfb98b72dda335f32f | ['2d9faf6a576542e2ad4a97b5b525246d'] | "Aw, come on. It’s a Friday night! You can’t work on a Friday night." Nagisa opened up one of the trays. "Besides, I brought this ootoro for Rin-chan to try, but since he’s not here…"
Rei wandered closer into the living room and saw all his favorite kinds of sushi laid out on the table. He heard his stomach grumble in response and blushed. “I guess I would have to eat anyway. And this is too much food for you to eat alone.”
Nagisa handed him a pair of chopsticks.
The next morning Rin arrived home from his sleepover and found his father still asleep on the couch and Nagisa burning eggs in the kitchen. They traded high fives and Rin went to wake up his dad for breakfast.
5. sousuke/haruka
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> "/whispers souharu with 14 i'm expecting great chemistry puns"
>
> lab partners au
>
> basically, this is a game of "spot the chemistry vocabulary"
Transferring schools mid-year meant you ended up working alone or you were stuck with whoever had ended up working alone before you got there. Sousuke had learned this over years of periodically moving around for his father’s work. And upon transferring into Iwatobi High School, it meant Sousuke was stuck being lab partners with Nanase Haruka. It wasn’t that Nanase was a bad lab partner; it’s just that bonding with him proved difficult. Sousuke and Haru just didn’t react well together.
Sousuke didn’t want to spend the entire year avoiding an explosion—both figuratively and literally—so he tried asking around. If he could find some catalyst they could base their relationship on, their adventures in chemistry would go a lot more smoothly.
“Oh, don’t take it personally,” Makoto told him. They sat next to each other in math class and Sousuke had seen Nanase eating lunch with him sometimes. “Haru’s probably feeling out of his element.”
“I don’t know why you’re trying to be so noble about the whole thing. Maybe there is no solution,” Rin told him. “I’d consider the whole situation solvent and just move on. If you just do your work, it’ll be fine.”
After a month of chilly relations, Sousuke was starting to think that maybe Rin was right. Maybe there was just an absolute zero percent chance that he and Nanase could get along. Sousuke sat silently next to Haru, waiting for their teacher to assign and describe the day’s experiments.
“I know everyone likes to know they’re working with dangerous and exciting things, but today we’ll be working primarily with water.”
Haru sat up straighter.
“Water is all around us and feels like something we’re all very familiar with, but I think you’ll be surprised at all the interesting things you can do with it.”
The teacher described the things they needed to do and set them loose in the lab. Haru turned to Sousuke, visibly excited and with a small smile on his face. It was the most expressive he’d been the entire semester. “I’ll go get the water.”
With those words, it felt like all the built up frustration between them had immediately sublimated into thin air. Haru got out of his seat to gather the materials and left Sousuke sitting at the bench hoping this was an indicator of better things to come.
6. haruka/rin
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> prostitute/client au
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> had to bump up the rating of the entire thing for this one bit of they-don't-even-go-all-the-way porn (i.e. i was too lazy to write it).
Rin has never had a client this stoic. It's not really that he cares about getting clients off so much as he's interested in knowing what he's doing works. Rin knows he's good; he's got the most regulars out of everyone at the agency, but here he is, taking someone's cock so deep in his mouth that he's almost choking on it and all the reaction he's gotten is a sharp exhale and a bitten lip. Rin pulls off and looks up at him. "If something's not working for you, let me know. I'm here to make you feel good after all."
Haruka looks down, cheeks slightly flushed. At least there's that, Rin thinks. The other man does say a word, breathing evenly if a little heavier.
"Um, were you maybe expecting a woman? It's happened before, with my name and my hair and all." Though Rin had to admit it's never gotten quite this far in those situations.
Haruka looks at him sharply. "No."
No? No what? This guy is really not giving Rin much to work with.
"What you were doing was good. It felt good." The words come out slowly and quietly. When Rin looks, Haruka has his head turned away.
"Oh. Okay. Good! I'll just keep going then." Rin reaches up to grab the base of Haruka's cock and starts lowering his head.
"No!" Startled, Rin jerks his head back and loosens his hold on Haruka. Now what?
"Let me touch you too." He reaches a hand down to pull Rin up so they're on the same level and leans forward to suggest a kiss. Rin meets him halfway and they start kissing messily, all the saliva and precome from earlier smearing across their lips.
The space between them narrows as Haruka simultaneously shifts forward and pulls Rin closer. Soon Rin is practically sitting in his lap, one hand tangled in Haruka’s dark hair and the other resting on his thigh, waiting for him to initiate something further than the kiss. |
15fa1913a6904970bd9f3a240892b127 | ['2da1a9e9dd694b5bb6d189f1e8ab434b'] | She rolled her eyes, which resulted into my eyes widening, "I didn't really do anything. I just went home and hung out with my sister since you went to go to that stupid party."
"I'm sorry, baby. Maybe, I can take you next time." He tried to reason with her before she started anything.
Before she could say anything, our waitress finally came by and asked us what we wanted and took our orders. Jungkook ordered a stack a pancakes, while I ordered eggs and bacon with waffles. All Nina ordered was a glass of water. She said she needs to be watching her figure. Well, while she's going to do that, I'm going to be enjoying my waffles, eggs, and bacon.
While waiting for our food, Nina thought it would be super cute to whisper Jungkook sweet nothings in his ear. I was literally about to vomit, but I decided to just check my phone for the first time this morning. I was kind of shocked on how many notifications I had. I checked my messages and noticed I had text messages from almost the whole group.
**Sora**
_Sora: WHERE TF ARE YOU I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING OMGJDIDHD_
_Sora: omg I'm so hungover_
_Sora: I can't believe you beat Jungkook at beer pong bless_
_Sora: taehyung was at the party gurl he looked so fuckin good im droolin still_
**_Yoongi_ **
_Yoongi: Did you make it home safely? (:_
_Yoongi: you're probably still sleeping, i know how you love your sleep after a party_
**_my hoes_ **
_Namjoonieeee: bruh last night was fuckin fire_
_Hoseok_ _: hell yeah_
_Jimin: I met this really pretty girl and got her number GUYS DO I TEXT HER TODAY OR NEVER I CANT_
_Jin: text her????_
_Jimin: tru, but guys she's so cute_
_Sora: i'm still drunk send help_
_Namjoonieeee: jimin is this how you'll be when you date her????_
_Jimin: stfu joonie_
_Jimin: but probably ;)_
I smiled at how cute Jimin was when he found someone he liked, even though he just met her. I'm still hoping for the best, though.
I checked Instagram and saw I had a notification in my direct messages. I widened my eyes when I remembered how I didn't answer taehyung's message. I quickly checked it and noticed he sent me a picture and message last night while I was probably sleeping.
_kimtaehyung: you looked so good tonight too bad ur taken_
I widened my eyes and started choking on nothing. Jungkook and Nina both looked at me while she looked annoyed and Jungkook looked worried. I gave them a thumbs up and instantly replied.
_omgmiaahn: uh thank you taehyung_
_omgmiaahn: and im not taken wtf lmao_
My heart started beating so fast, I didn't even know what to do with myself. He looked so good in this photo. What did he mean I was taken? I slowly, but surely, remembered that Taehyung caught Jungkook and I in a promising position while he tried to calm me down in the bathroom.
_kimtaehyung: well good morning to you too babe_
_kimtaehyung: why are you even awake right now, shouldn't you be sleeping...or did jungkook keep you up the whole night_
_omgmiaahn: OMG NO ME AND HIM ARE JUST FRIENDS_
_omgmiaahn: and bc i had to meet someone_
_omgmiaahn: why r u awake don't you have a huge hangover too???_
_kimtaehyung: sure you are ;)_
_kimtaehyung: and oh no babe, I don't drink_
_kimtaehyung: gtg ttyl ;)_
"Hey, Mia. Are you okay? You've been having this shocked look on your face for like 5 minutes." Jungkook asked when our waitress came with our food.
"Yeah, I was just on social media and saw some stuff." I locked my phone and smiled tightly while digging in. I glanced over at Nina and she was on her phone which made me feel guilty, thinking that Jungkook was probably getting ignored by the both of us, even though I only looked at my phone because Nina wanted to be all intimate in front of me.
"These waffles are so good, oh my god." I moaned while taking the first bite of my waffles.
Jungkook started laughing,"Get a room." I couldn't help but bursting into laughter . The diner was filled with our laughs while Nina was trying to act like she doesn't know us.
We both stopped laughing when Nina cleared her throat and announced that she was leaving.
"I have to go, I forgot I made plans with my friend at 11 and it's already 10:30. Mia." She gave me a nod and looked over at Jungkook and told him to walk her to her car. It seemed kind of sketchy but I didn't want to call her out on it. When he came back, he sighed and looked at me nervously.
He cleared his throat, "So...what do you think?"
How do you tell one of your best friends that you didn't like their significant other? If Nina makes Jungkook happy then I can't do anything about it. He seems to really like her, even though she can be a bit rude.
I laughed softly," She isn't my favorite person in the world and I'm obviously not hers, either."
"She can be like that sometimes. I swear she's nicer once you get to know her." He was quick to defend her but didn't seem too convinced on what he said.
"Does she make you happy, Jungkook?" I asked, really wanting to know. | a39cb24a9de54bc8bb26489ec15b6d2f | ['2da1a9e9dd694b5bb6d189f1e8ab434b'] | He gave me this odd look and furrowed his eyebrows.
"And who are you, exactly?" He asked crossing his arms and had a cocky smirk.
I cleared my throat, "I'm Mia Ahn. So what grade are you in?" He still had his arms crossed but his eyes were studying my features and what I was wearing. I didn't care, though. I just wanted to get my answer and be done wth this conversation.
"I'm actually in 12th grade." He said while he smirked.
"Oh okay, cool." I nodded and then walked away. I didn't like how cocky he was so I decided to just go back to my table since I got my answer. He might have thought I was weird but who cares? It's not like I'm going to talk to him anymore.
"So, he's in our grade." I told everyone at the table.
"Is he nice? Is his voice hot? Isn't he dreamy?" Sora asked all at once.
"Actually, he's a real asshole and super cocky too. What a turn off. I suggest you not like him, Sora." I rolled my eyes while just thinking about his stupid cocky smirk.
"Well, I'm still going to like him, he sounds like a bad boy. That's hot." Sora explained while putting her chin on her hand, making it look like she's day dreaming.
I rolled my eyes once again, "You're delusional."
"What, Mia? Do you not like the bad boy type?" Namjoon winked at me and I just scoffed.
"No she doesn't." Yoongi said out loud.
Everyone at our table got silent. He barely said anything during lunch. I mean, he's talked a couple times but no topics related to me.
I cleared my throat, "Uh, yeah, no. I never really thought of a bad boy being my type." It's true. Bad boys never attracted me. I didn't like that they always wanted to rebel, break girls hearts, and be assholes.
The bell rang and signaled us to go back to class. We got up and threw away our trash and went to our classes. On the way to mine and Soras math class, my shoulder got hit by another shoulder. I looked at who passed by me and it was Taehyung. He didn't even apologize.
"See? I told you he's an asshole."
-
The remainder of math class was just being on Instagram and texting everyone in our group in our group chat.
_Mia changed the group name:_ _**my hoes** _
_Hoseok: really mia? Lol k I see you_
_Namjoonieee: i approve of this cause you r all MY hoes_
_Sora: guys stfu im actually trying to pay attention in class GOSH_
_Jungkookie: who cares sora and MIA I DIDNT KNOW I WAS A HOe?_
_Jimin: I may get the ladies but I'm no hoe, HOE._
_Mia: ur all hoes get over it just be glad u r my hoes_
_Jungkookie: FIGHT ME MIA AHN_
_Yoongi: hoseok is my main hoe_
I was actually glad that he's been trying to be apart of our group more. To be honest, I missed him.
_Sora: Jin is my main hoe btw where's Jin lol_
_Mia: UHM LOL WTF I THOUGHT I WAS UR MAIN??_
_Jungkookie: i'm my own hoe, trust no one_
_Mia: wtf_
_Jungkookie: it's a tough world out there man_
_Mia: ur annoying go away_
_Jin_ _: you're all annoying_
_Mia: omg guys I almost forgot! taehyung bumped into me in the hall while going to class and he didn't even apologize like wtf rude_
_Yoongi: whata asshole_
_Jungkookie: u should fight him_
_Hoseok_ _: u should've been like "UHM EXCUSE YOU" and hit him or something_
_Namjoonieee: you should've done a rap battle w him_
_Mia: why r you guys so violent wtf_
_Mia: and wtf namjoon just bc you can rap doesn't mean i can???_
_Jungkookie: violence = major key_
_Mia: okay dj khaled_
_Sora: he's still hot thooooo_
_Jimin: do u need me to fight him?_
_Mia: no i'm good ur face is too pretty to get hit_
_Jimin: currently crying_
_Mia: but ugh i have him in my next class???? Like what would u do_
_Jin: ignore him mia_
_Hoseok: plot twist ; what if he's actually nice *mind blown*_
_Jungkookie: i would fight him regardless_
_Mia: STFU JEON CENA_
4. tears and hugs
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> mia gets emotional and this chapter just really shows the closeness with friendship and family ok thank you enjoy
The rest of the day was uneventful. I went to my last period, got a good grade on another art project, and went home. Jin has been taking me home everyday since its on the way to his house. He doesn't really have to but he insisted. He claims he doesn't want someone to attack me or bother me on the way home. He's always been like a big brother to me. He's been there for me for years and I couldn't be more grateful.
"So that was weird with Yoongi today, huh?" Jin laughed and parked outside my house.
"I mean, I guess. I miss him, to be honest. " He widened his eyes and we both got out and went inside my house.
"Do you want to talk? You know I'm here for you, right?" He said while he sat on the couch and I went to the kitchen to get some snacks and drinks for us.
I grabbed some chips and two bottles of water and sat next to Jin. I looked over and gave me this "I know you want to talk so spill it" kind of look. I sighed. |
cead6590c6264fd38c553a26a63a0f01 | ['2dca183d710b48f6a956e5f7847b130e'] |
Half of What You See and None of What You Read
It took him a minute to register Nemuri Kayama sitting next to him, the arms of their office chairs touching. She's leaning so close to him, he wondered why he never noticed her even looking over his arm to his cellphone, to the open with a picture of Inko from their 'not a parent teacher meeting but not a date' date last Saturday.
"She's precious, Yagi." Nemuri crones, reaching over and tapping the screen of his cell. "You got lucky with this one."
And she means it too, Toshinori can tell. Nemuri may be the 18+ hero, but her honesty was always something to be valued entirely in it's own manner. He felt his mouth pull up in a smile.
"You think so, huh?"
Nemuri leans back, pulling a leg up onto the chair, folding her hands on top of her knee. She must be heading to the gym after this, she's clad in some of the most frumpy, torn up, work out sweats Nemuri owns and Toshinori always found this so amusing. She's nodding enthusiastically now.
"It's about time you had this in your life. Things are coming up 'all might' for you." Nemuri grins and leans in again. "So have you two been indecent?"
Toshinori hand flew to his face, shielding his paper work from the oncoming assault of his coughing fit. He wasn't spilling blood on these tonight. The taste flooded his mouth, but thankfully this was one of the few times his hand was clean when he drew it back. Nemuri laughed an apology.
"Sorry, sorry."
Her expression softens though. "Things are going well?"
His smile is taught when he replied "Swimmingly."
"Trouble in paradise?"
"Far from it, really. Something came up though." He frowns, his attention back to his phone as he flips to the internet browser and brings up a news feed.
Nemuri instantly knew what he was going to bring up. That article in that gossip magazine hit the shelves last week. She had a feeling Toshinori wasn't the type to indulge in gossip colums, but maybe the lady who's company he kept was. It was a blurb really, two pictures accompanying it. No doubt that those pictures would have also made it online.
"The comments on this are atrocious." He sputters out, as he hands the phone to her. "As you can imagine, Inko hasn't been... herself as of late."
Nemuri's heart thumps hard twice. 'Downgrade' and 'Frumpy House Wife' littered the comments on the e-print version of the article. Inko was beautifully dressed, hair done up and makeup tastefully done in the pictures, Toshinori's arm wrapped protectively around her and hugging her close to his injured side, a gaze that just screamed 'this is the woman I'll spend the rest of my days with, fight me on that'. Nemuri scowls, each comment nastier than the next.
"I'm sorry, Toshinori." She murmured, handing the phone back.
"I'm... trying to fix this. With Inko, I mean." Toshinori shut his phone off. "I can't do anything about the article itself, but Inko's self esteem is through the floor right now. I know..... I know I haven't been much to look at these past few months but I hear the remarks and I can takes hits when it comes to my appreance now that I'm retired... but... I'm grateful for every moment she'll spend with me, even if our time is limited. I... have to do something..."
Nemuri leans back into the chair, the soft leather squeaking as she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. "Those are some strong words, Yagi." She reaches over and grabs the stack of papers he was grading and waves them under his nose. "Sitting here isn't helping Inko any, so I'll take care of these but only if you can go treat that lady friend of yours to something that will have her seeing stars and not that filth she's seen on the internet."
Toshinori was stunned into silence. "Thank you, Nemuri."
____
The sun is setting when he gets to her place. Inko is sleeping on the couch when he arrives at her apartment with flowers in hand.
"Solves the mystery of those texts that weren't returned on the way here." He murmurs to himself as he takes his suit jacket off and hangs it over a chair at the kitchen table.
He spent an extra moment arranging the flowers in a vase, composing his thoughts to words, before going to the living room where Inko's sleeping form lay on the couch. On her stomach and covered in a hand made knitted blanket, her hands are under the pillow she's nestled her head on. Crouching down next to her head, he reached out, paused for a moment before stroking the hair out of her face.
"Inko." He softly murmurs, as she began to stir.
He felt guilty for waking her, she really ought to have slept this off, but he wanted to make an honest attempt at lightening her mood. Selfish on his part.
"All... All Might?" She murmured through her soft grogginess, eyes blinking rapidly as she rubs at them.
It's been a while since she's used 'All Might' on him and it warms him, pulls at his heart. At the very core of it, he thinks... he believes... he can still be 'All Might' to her and that has to count for something.
"Tosh...shi... nori." She groaned out as she stretched on the couch, arms finally slumping over the armrest of the couch when the stretch is over, burying her face in the pillow.
She sighs deeply and draws her hands under her cheek as she turns her face towards him. "When did you get here?"
"Half a millennia ago, give or take a century."
He wants to see her smile, wants to make her laugh, but the mood of the last few days still hangs heavy over her and he feels it too somewhere deep in his chest. No smiles, no laughs. He sits back and crosses his legs.
"Inko." He tries again. "If you need anything..."
She sighs, shifts over and lifts her blanket. "Stay with me. Please."
He nods, without hesitation and careful movements, he aligns himself with her and with some careful manovering, lets her lay with her body against his, face buried in his neck. He doesn't fit on the couch properly, but he works with it, hooking his ankles together and resting them off the end of the other arm rest. Her breathing slows again as she nuzzles his neck.
"...I am here." He murmurs. | 2b24da1f2e1b4cd7b88fdd5908e284f9 | ['2dca183d710b48f6a956e5f7847b130e'] |
Everlasting Impressions
Konohamaru had his dignity to save, even if it was to save face in front of three pre teens he'd have to come to see as his students. He couldn't have been given more of an unlikely bunch, the son of his own mentor, Uzamaki Kuno who despite looking much like his father, wielded the bakyugan and his mothers timid personality. Konohamaru secretly hoped the other male in his squadron would show more fierceness, Akamichi Inochi. Though he never really knew either Ino or Chouji but the kid was, from what little he did gather, equal parts of both of them. The third kid he was assigned too, the lone female, Haruno Ame, a very quiet bookish one that shot him very perplexed and confused glances whenever she could, caused a very sick feeling in his stomach that reminded him of how he felt about Sakura hitting him for the many sexy no jutsu incidents. For the life of him, Konohamaru couldn't remember the kids damned father as much as he searched his memory, but it could have been the celebratory drinks form the night before, he finally became a jonin... or maybe it was the hangover head ache now.
"You're the first Sarutobi I've seen who doesn't chain smoke." AMe said wistfully, closing a text book she held as Konohamaru called for their attention.
"Is that a problem?"
Ame shook her head and that strange vacant stare crossed her features, "The book clearly depicts all Sarotobi men as hairy chain smoking individuals... even the women."
Konohamaru suppressed a whole body tick and pointed to the mountain off in the distance. "I'd have you know I come from a long line of excellent men... my grandfather was the third Hokage after all and I'll be the future Hokage."
Ame jerked a thumb at her team mate. "His father's the current Hokage. From what Kuno has gathered, you seem to have a total hard on for the man. It's kind of creepy."
Konohamaru, while noticing a very startled Kuno trying to not have a coniption, stammered a startled quirked reply of, "Well, well um, what was your name again?"
The girl smiled. "Haruno Ame, sir."
Kuno raised his hand timidly. "S...ssir?"
Konohamaru composed himself and nodded.
"My father is happily married." Kuno pointed out. "Ju... just so you know."
Konohamaru slapped his forehead and groaned. "Yes, Kuno. I know that."
Kuno smiled and elbowed Ame hard in the ribs, receiving a hard, open palmed slap to the back.
"Inochi, you wouldn't have anything to add to this, would you?" Konohamaru said with flustered flapping of his hands.
"No sir." He spoke quietly, watching with a vacant fascination as a butterfly flew past him. "Homo or not, you're our sensei."
Konohamaru glared at the three. "How about I just show you some bitchin moves? I do a pretty awesome Ragensen."
Inochi let the butterfly perch on his finger, Ame narrowed her eyes on Konohamaru's hopeful face as Kuno stuck out his hand, summoning a very small Ragensen of his own.
"I'm trying to incorporate it into the gentle fist..." He stated meekly as Konohamaru's jaw dropped.
Visibly hurt from the sudden realization that he was pleasing a very tough crowd, Konohamaru thought for a moment before snapping his fingers and summoned a shadow clone.
"Impressive..." Ame said. "Sort of."
"It's not the shadow clone I'm showing off." Konohamaru stated, his clone mimicking him. "It's what I can do with it, this is something your father taught me, Kuno, so pay attention."
A very blank stare was carried across three faces when two scantly clad women appeared before them, the sound of the butterfly fluttering off of Inochi's hand seemed to roar between the silence.
If anything, it sparked very little interest amongst the two boys, Kuno blushing furiously, Inochi absently scratching at his neck nervously, a very tentative eyebrow lift from Ame. The jutsu was released back to it's two original very male shadow clones as a smug grin of satisfaction crossed their sensei's face.
"Not bad, huh?"
"Lame." Ame spat out. "Horribly and utterly LAME."
"Oh don't worry, Ame." Konohamaru nodded, his grin widening. "There's more."
Konohamaru already has the images of his two 'victims' lodged into his memory, having used them many a time on girls in the village. If only he'd bother to read the damned paper work, if only he'd bother to see any sort of resemblance or the error in his ways from past experiences.
Konohamaru manged to see her mouth drop when the smoke cleared, her fist clench and when that vacant gaze was replaced with one of fury, it may have been then that he saw it. When her fists flew, Konohamaru saw her mother but that gaze, that hallow emotionless gaze and when he was sent flying backwards, leaving a very noticeable crater, that look of emotionless was overwhelmed with a noticeable angry flinch in her eyebrows.
"I do not understand, Sensei." She spoke, dropping to her knees beside her broken teacher. "Why you must use my father's image with that traitorous homo... needless to say, in front of his daughter."
It would take both Kuno and Inochi to restrain her from damaging her eyes with her kunai.
"So, enlighten me, Konohamaru," Sakura secured the bandaged around her daughters eyes with a tight knot behind her head. "Why did my daughter scratch her cornea's with a kunai again? She seems... well.. more than a little traumatized to speak on the subject."
"What makes you think I know something, Sakura san..." Konohamaru was waving his arms defensively with a smile, sweating slightly as Sakura gritted her teeth.
"You're her sensai..." Sakura seethed. "You aren't suppose to make them want to gouge their eyes out on first introductions."
"Oh, don't tell me you didn't want to!" Konohamaru argued back with an accusing pointer finger to the nose.
"My sensei may have been a pervert, but at least I held off until I knew the medical jutsu to correct the damage I did."
"Yeah, if you wanted too..."
"This is aside the point." Sakura gripped Konohamaru's flak jacket in a clenched fist, free hand glowing with a not so medicinal chakra that flowed so easily before to her daughter. "My daughter is temporarily blind, not speaking and she came here with her team mates and yourself... what... did... you do?"
Konohamaru let out a squeak. "You don't understand, Sakura San."
"Konohamaru, do I have to repeat myself, my daughter is temporarily blind..."
"Okay, okay, I'll... explain.'" Konohamaru pried the fingers from his jacket sighing when Sakura sat on the bed beside her daughter. "It started with the sexy no jutsu."
"You didn't..." Sakura was rubbing her temples, wincing when she did.
"If I knew HE was HER father and that she shared the same views for the 'traitorous homo' I would have..."
While Konohamaru may have broken through three walls, he only broke two ribs that day. A fact he held with high regard in later years. |
a8dc3698af0b401ab8d498972e5e5d55 | ['2dd48947da664d85b98db515103a8bf4'] | Wordsmith
**Author's Note:**
> originally posted on tumblr.
She lets him in again, finally. Yuuko turns, the moment he steps in. She can't stand the sight of that face, those sad, sad eyes.
"Explain. In ten words, or less."
Clow knows what this is. Words have power, and sometimes, like that one, fleeting moment of his soul crushing grief, the fewer there are, the more meaning there is, more potency. He could have professed the fathomless depth of his love.
He wished her eyes would open instead.
And so Clow chooses his words, chooses them well:
"What I did," he breathes, painfully. He so badly wants to hold her. "I did for love."
Yuuko waves her hand, and he's gone--transported somewhere outside, far, far away from her. She knows he won't stop trying, won't stop trying to reach her.
She never wanted to hear those words again.
***
She shows herself to him again, finally. Yuuko turns, the moment he steps in. She misses the sight of that face, those sad, sad eyes.
"Explain. In ten words, or less."
Watanuki is taken aback, he hadn't expected to see her in his dreams, let alone hear her speak. Words have power, that he knows, there is more meaning to them, more potency, the simpler they are. He hadn't fully understood what he promised her in that void.
He understands now.
And so Watanuki chooses his words, chooses them well:
"What I did," he sobs, uncontrollably. He so badly wants to hold her. "I did for love."
Yuuko waves her hand and he's gone--back in the shop in what was her world, far far away from her. She knows he won't stop waiting, won't stop trying to reach her.
She never thought she'd hear those words again. | 7b39ae189fef425f8b599a459b9d4742 | ['2dd48947da664d85b98db515103a8bf4'] |
Deal
**Author's Note:**
> originally posted on tumblr
In the beginning...well, Diaval didn't really know what happened in the beginning. He wasn't there. He came into Being some time after, just in time to see Earth get more than its fair share of water*. And that's the deal with not being present at certain events, he supposes. All he heard were stories. They're all well versed in the chronicles of Creation or whatever they called it these days, but still, he would have liked to see how the whole shebang with the Tree and the Fruit actually went down.
There were other stories too, dealing more with their lot than with the humans. Stories of betrayal and envy and loss, of wings being stolen. Diaval shuddered at the thought. He couldn't imagine his existence without wings, they were as integral to his essence as any other. He knows that they were punished, the angels involved, knows that they Fell. He knows that that story would rather be forgotten. He also knows, deep in his core, that this story haunts him most. He knows that he'll never know the reason why.
Perhaps, he thinks, it's because the wings were never found.
\----
He'd been permanently assigned to Earth. Well stuck, more like. He's not complaining.
(He's been getting commendations, even though they don't know that he just decided to sneak past the gates when no one was looking that one time and that he got his assignment because the other angel failed to show up, and well, it became a long time thing. He can't hear Choir practice from all the way here, too, so there's also that.)
And really, it's been interesting so far. People are fascinating creatures (aside from birds, that is) and they write /books/. Good stuff, Diaval thinks. He's honestly liking it here.
He'd like it better though, if demons don't randomly show up and interrupt his activities.
"Oi" he said, eyeing said demon with as much contempt as he could manage. "Why'd you do that?" He had transformed into his favorite raven form to carry a book from the castle library, because flying can get him anywhere faster. He didn't see the farmer that appeared behind the bushes, and before he knew it, he's already trapped in a nest.
But he had the entire situation under control, thank you very much.
"Would you rather I let him beat you to death?" she retorted, her eyes glowing in the dim afternoon light. She jutted out her chin in defiance, challenging him to reply.
"I--I won't die," he said. Not really. But he will have a lot of explaining to do Upstairs on how he got a corporeal body and why he's even down here in the first place. Truthfully, she saved him from two different kinds trouble, but he won't tell her that. And since when did demons save _things_ anyway?
"And!" Diaval started, "You forced my transformation! I'm tainted. What have you done to my beautiful self?" The farmer called him a _demon_ too, of all things.
The she-demon rolled her eyes. "That was just a minor thing. I'm sure you can handle that with very little effort," she drawled.
"Oh, I will," Diaval promised. "I will also _thwart_ whatever it is you're doing."
She raised her eyebrow at that.
"Bet you're a succubus. Trying to suck life out of men. Or you're heading to a Church to desecrate Holy Ground," he listed, following her as she began to walk away from him, clearly uninterested now. "Whatever it is, consider it stopped." Diaval said.
"I'm looking for something," said the demon.
"An instrument of evil, definitely. Er. What is it?"
What she said next made him stop in his tracks.
"I'm looking for my wings."
\----
Strange demon, that one. Diaval's been trailing her for the best part of a month, but she seemed utterly disinterested in corrupting the hearts of men.
"They're perfectly fine in doing it on their own," she told him one rainy afternoon. He gave up following her after she spotted him roosting on a tree and joined her as she wondered around the village.
"You're still looking for them, your wings?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded, mostly to himself. He knew there was something amiss the first time he saw her. He's sure she added the horns to her own fancy, but the space where her wings should be is empty. He could tell which demons were once angels, and angels, Fallen or not, all have wings.
So why doesn't she?
Realization dawns on him. "You're her. The angel whose wings were stolen."
"Was," she said. "I'm a demon now," she stated. And even though her horns are hidden and she's disguised as a human, Diaval can smell the brimstone and the sulphur on her. He can feel the fiery halls of Hell on her skin and can hear the screams of the tormented on her footsteps. She is a demon, through and through.
And yet...
"You don't...act like one," Diaval attested. She doesn't meddle, she doesn't corrupt, she doesn't temp. She doesn't seem concerned in bringing ruin to this planet.
"If there were standards passed on how a demon should act, I am not aware of and I do not care about them."
Right, Diaval thought. "You're only concerned about your wings."
"Yes."
"Look," he said, an idea forming in his head. "If I were to say I'd help you find them, would you agree?"
She stopped walking and gave him a pointed look. "You're going to help a demon?"
"In a manner of speaking," Diaval said. "Under the condition that you act normally after we find what we're looking for." She was a demon, as she'd said. She wasn't going to get away with this for /free/.
The she-demon stared at him disbelievingly. "'Normal' as in..." |
296a238d9c944b2a94e665e6923289b7 | ['2de53e898c2846df88ada2c3526df72c'] |
“...And then tomorrow at five, the Gazette would like you to come in for an interview on the recent Arkham breakout. They want some advice on what to expect--"
Raising a finger, Edward interrupts his secretary, eyes never leaving the case file in front of him.
“Clear my five o’clock and tell the Gazette to expect Batman to handle it. They’re assuming I have eyes inside Gotham's Criminals own minds at this point, I’m sick of it.”
She frowns, writing something down in her planner as he shifts about papers. Three files lay in front of the PI. One robbery, two murders. One is suspected to be manslaughter, or a very sloppy murder. No one can be that idiotic.
Actually. No. That's a lie. There are people out there who are that stupid.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Edward partly listens to his secretary ramble about upcoming events to prepare for.
“...Then next week, Mr. Wayne has invited you to his annual charity ball at Wayne Manor. He said he'd love it if you'd at least stop by for a drink. The press will be there, and the ball is to fundraise for…”
Toning her out, he stares blankly at the papers, letting his mind wander off.
It’s been awhile since he’s actually spent some time with Bruce Wayne, and nearly a week since he’s talked to him. Multiple times has he _thought_ about casually texting Bruce, slyly sending a riddle or asking if they could meet up when he finally takes a break. Unfortunately, he hasn't taken a break, refusing to stop his investigations for even a small lunch break with Bruce.
With a few taps of his phone, he opens up the messages last sent to him days ago.
* * *
**'Are you free for lunch?’**
**'No, I’m pretty tied up right now.’**
**'Ah, okay. Text me when you're free. x’**
* * *
Wow. He's heartless. Didn’t even send an x back.
Mable continues to talk, Eddie’s focus drifting towards the window. The city is alive, lights shining in the night, illuminating the streets yet making the shadows seem oh so long. At this hour, he’d be anywhere but here. Fleeing from Batman on the rooftops, taunting him through his comms, jeering and teasing until a battle of Brain versus Brawn ended the night at last.
He almost misses the trips to Arkham. Not Arkham itself, god no, but the car ride there was a good five minutes of talking with Batman. Listening to the same old rant about how this wouldn't happen if he got better.
Of course, talks of redemption are abandoned when redemption finally comes, along with literally every other form of contact. He hasn't talked to Batman in _months._ Months! How disappointing.
Months can drive a man mad enough to long for the thrill of a chase and the humiliation of defeat, so long as it was by his hands.
There’s no sign of him nearby, but any fool with half a brain would know he’s out and about. Arkham had another break out. A good number of inmates are free, and while he doesn't exactly know who, it’s obvious Batman would be busy.
Busy, busy, busy. Always busy. Busy.
He mutters the word busy under his breath a few times in a mocking tone, looking back towards Mabel.
Busy. Hm.
She continues to talk about upcoming events he has been invited to, flipping through her planner to recompose her thoughts. Edward cuts her off abruptly, seconds before she could even get her last thought out.
“Mabel, when was the last time you took off?”
She shifts her weight, responding softly. “A few weeks ago, Mr. Nygma.”
He nods, taking a moment to think before he speaks.
“Take the rest of the night off.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He turns to face her, leaning on the desk. “Infact, take tomorrow off as well. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Mr. Nygma, sir, I--”
He makes a shoo motion with his hand. Mabel blinks.
“...Thank you. I’ll see you Monday.” She replies, barely containing her relief.
Mabel closes the door to the office and quickly gathers her belongings before rushing home, presumably. Honestly, he could care less about where she is going.
Opening a desk drawer, Ed takes out a bottle of scotch and a glass. Carefully, he pours himself some of the drink before putting the top on and setting it aside. Bringing the glass to his lips, he takes a small sip, looking outside.
It’s been months since he has last seen the Batman in person.
He’s going to change that.
Putting down the glass, Edward sits back in his chair, carefully eyeing the space below his desk. There, glowing a soft green hue, was a small button. Originally the purpose was to alert the Dark Knight of any pressing dangers going on in his office. One push and all audio within the room is recorded and instantly sent to Batman. A second push, and it’s turned off, just as easy at that. It's a genius idea, and _obviously_ one of Edward's own designs.
Idly, Edward debates on how to approach this situation. The button was for emergencies, but this could be considered an emergency. What should he say? Should he threaten to shoot his secretary? She’s gone, and surely he’d never do that to her, but Batman doesn't know that. Confident in this approach, Edward reaches under the desk, lightly tapping the button.
Second thoughts occur, and all that is recorded is silence. He’s speechless, words just beyond his grasp. A second more of silence passes, then Edward sighs, tapping the button a second time to stop the recording.
“That went well” He laments as he takes a sip of his drink. | 163163d7bb8b4996a640d0a43a300dfd | ['2de53e898c2846df88ada2c3526df72c'] | Something
It’s been an entire year since Edward Nygma had reformed, months since he’d actually decided to put an _ effort _ into following simple laws and learning how to hold his tongue. He hadn’t been deemed sane by Arkham Asylum just yet, unfortunately becoming a regular patient if he didn’t follow the conditions of his parole. He was a Private Investigator, who recently was given an opportunity to join the GCPD again and become one of their detectives.
“It’s a chance to restart,” He told the other, voice soft and hesitant. “Bruce seems pretty happy about it.”
Jonathan grimaces. “Of course he seems happy, he’s your _ Parole Officer. _ The man putting an effort towards keeping you a law abiding _ nobody _ .”
Silence.
“How long is this act going on for, Edward? How long before you sweep the carpet right out from under their feets and get locked back up with me?” He pries impatiently, leaning forward.
Edward says nothing, averting his waiting gaze.
“ _ How. Long. _ ” Jonathan repeats.
“A while, okay? I’m not planning anything, and I don’t want to lose all of this, but--”
“But it’s bound to happen. I know. _ We _ know.”
Biting his lip, Edward runs a hand through his hair. There’s a brief pause, a moment's breath before the tension slips. Jonathan’s expression shifts from aggressive to soft, almost remorseful.
“The cell seems rather empty lately. Like someone’s missing.” Jonathan comments.
Edward nearly scoffs, lip twitching in the smallest signs of a grin. “Request a new cellmate, then. Say it’s to cope with losing a friend. Doctors always pull strings if it means you’ll cooperate more.”
“I’m not losing a friend.”
“What?”
He has Edward’s attention now, meeting his gaze. Emerald eyes, once nearly _ glowing _ with such an impressive spark that can leave someone breathless, now stare upon him. Tired. Confused. Dull. It’s nearly upsetting, but at the same time expected. He’s tired. The years are passing by as if they’re seconds ticking away. They’re becoming older. It’s no surprise some of them are giving up crime.
The Riddler was around for nearly a _ decade. _ Perhaps even longer than that. It’s no surprise he dropped the persona, so he claims.
The Scarecrow, however, is just barely younger in existence. Sure, Jonathan is a few years older than Edward, but he didn’t quite get thrown into Arkham with his legal team declaring him insane until years after being assigned to the Riddler as his psychiatrist.
The common ground between the two varying timelines is how long they’ve been together. Whether it’d be in an office, in a cell, on the streets or elsewhere, they were close. Extremely close.
It’s surprising. With how far apart they are now, it took no time at all to realize how much they needed each other.
Jonathan sighs. “I still consider you a friend. Surely I am fairly agitated that you’re going to be assisting _ Batman, _ of all people, with cleaning the streets, but it’s not that easy to get rid of me.”
“Not even with everything happening?” Edward asks.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Jonathan corrects.
Edward stares, biting his lip and forcing a comment to stay in the mind. Assuming the conversation is done, Jonathan leans back, looking for a guard to escort him back to his cell. Just before he raises his hand, Ed speaks.
“We could’ve been something.”
The words come out of nowhere, nearly catching Jonathan off guard as his eyes widen. Edward refuses eye contact, still holding the phone to his ear. The silence grows long, disbelief in the air.
“Something?” Jonathan questions.
“Something more than friends. Something romantic.”
The silence fills the air, Edward staring at Jon longingly as he awaits some form of reaction. He gets one.
Jonathan _ laughs. _ Soft at first, soon growing in volume before it’s threatening to approach an insane cackling. He wipes a tear from his eye, laughter dying down to a soft sigh.
“Your timing,” He wheezes. “Is absolutely _ terrible _ . For someone who cares so much about every second, you really don’t know what to say when.”
The teasing is unexpected, Edward staring in shock before he pouts. Annoyed, he raises his voice. “Well excuse me, _ Jonathan _ , but now seemed like a fitting time to address the situation.” He hisses, eyes narrowed.
Jonathan scoffs. “ _ Situation? _ Is that what you’re seriously calling it? A situation, yes. What a fine word to use.” He chides, shame growing on Edward’s face. “And need I remind you about the _ countless times _ where the moment was just right to address our _ situation _ .”
This only causes Edward’s disapproval to grow, the PI reaching for his bag and beginning to stand up. Jonathan only smirks at this, raising a brow.
“If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m cutting this short.” Edward scolds, preparing to act on his threat to leave.
“Fine, but just so you know for what’s ahead, Edward. You’re right.”
“What?”
“We could’ve been something.” |
ca026ab1ce604d2996252d23b5c50f25 | ['2dfcbac8ffbe4fe1bf2ee358acb00cf0'] | "Let's be honest: the ones who actually know how to cook are Aether and Mountain, so they should take the cooking shift" Cumulus placed herself between Dewdrop and Cirrus to avoid further conflicts. "I can help them out".
"So, Mountain, Cumulus and I take the cooking shift" Aether took a piece of paper and scribbled it down "Swiss, Dew and Rain take the cleaning shift".
"Good luck, Dew is terrified of the vacuum cleaner" Swiss laughed, only to let out a yelp as the fire Ghoul hit him with his elbow on the arm. "Come on, it's true!"
"Then, Rain cleans the rooms, Swiss does the laundry and Dew does the dishes" Cirrus also stood up and scribbled the new tasks down "I'll take care of the rats".
Soon, they all scattered around to their tasks. Dinnertime was almost there, so the three Ghouls from the cooking shift headed for the kitchen. Copia usually prepared all of their meals and brought them on a dining cart to their recreation room. The Ghouls usually had a dining hall for themselves, both for church employees and musicians, but there have been a few noise complaints coming from fellow Siblings of Sin regarding the Cardinal's followers. It wasn't breaking news, Emeritus III's Ghouls received the same complaint years before. The trio crammed up in the kitchen and began discussing what to do to satisfy their bandmates' hunger. Aether suggested a veggie plate, but Cumulus insisted on treating themselves with some stew. It was finally Mountain's turn to take sides.
"Pizza" the large Ghoul shrugged. "I've heard that humans love it, so it must be good".
"I can't believe that the Cardinal has never treated us with pizza before" the shorter Ghoulette brought a hand to her chin. She just hoped that Aether caved in.
"Alright, but just today" the Quintessence Ghoul sighed and rummaged the kitchen looking for the ingredients. They weren't allowed to get out from the church and he wouldn't be the one to break the golden rule. Of course he could have asked a Sister of Sin to call the pizza delivery, but he didn't know if they brought pizzas to churches. It would be weird too.
Mountain and Cumulus found a spot on a counter to settle down the ingredients and start sorting them out while Aether pre-heated the oven. He would choose the toppings while the other two worked on the dough. On the meantime, the rest of the group were in the recreation room. Cirrus finished feeding Copia's rats and was telling everyone what was the Cardinal's sleeping chamber like while she helped Swiss fold bedsheets. For now, she was the only one allowed in there. Rain and Dewdrop were setting up the table when the Water Ghoul had an idea.
"Why don't we have a sleepover?" he suggested, excited blue eyes meeting his bandmate's.
"A sleepover?" the Fire Ghoul tilted his head. This meant carrying the mattresses from the Ghouls' chambers to the recreation room and probably gossip and play games until they fell asleep. Oh, and the snoring. Mountain snored like a bear, there was no way he could handle that. It was already difficult to do so during a tour. But Rain seemed so excited about it that it made him feel bad. "Sounds like a good idea".
"I thought you hated them, since you told me to fuck off several times during the last one we had" the multi talented ghoul folded one last bedsheet before walking over to the table.
"It wasn't a sleepover, it was in the tour bus bunks" Dewdrop clarified with a sigh. "I was exhausted from the show, I just wanted a good night's sleep and you wouldn't shut up with your late night thoughts".
"I found them pretty funny and interesting" Rain added, glancing over at Cirrus. "Should we bring the mats?"
"Yes. And maybe a lantern so we can tell scary stories" the Ghoulette glanced over the two remaining bandmates. "Hey, we could use a hand in there. We have seven mattresses to carry"
"We are Ghouls, what should we be scared of?" the Fire Ghoul asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Vacuum cleaners" Swiss replied.
The table was set, the mattresses were brought into the recreation room and soon, the rest of the Ghouls walked through the door carrying the dining cart with the huge pizza. Aether thought it would be nice if he brought a salad as well —he still promised Copia the Ghouls would eat properly under his watch—, but he was the only one who actually paid any attention to it. In fact, he ate the whole tray by himself. Dinner carried out smoothly, everyone enjoying themselves and the food, and the Quintessence Ghoul was starting to think that they could, in fact, survive on their own.
Once the table was removed and the dishes were done, it was time to lay on the mattresses. It was then when they realized the recreation room was smaller than they thought. The entire room floor was just one huge bed. Aether sat up on his mattress and insisted on continuing making plans for the four days left alone they had. However, his suggestions always involved staying in the confinement of the church and the Ghouls were curious creatures. They wanted to see what was the world like beyond the stone walls and the shows.
"No" Aether scoffed. "We will get in trouble if any clergy members see us sneaking out. We should stay inside".
"And do what?" Swiss asked. "Play UNO? Poker?"
"The last time we played Poker we did it by your rules and Rain ended up bare-assed and crying, so no" Dewdrop nudged the Water Ghoul's shoulder with the side of his head. "if you want us to stay in, then go get us something interesting to do besides improvisation sessions and card games". | d81b9f49161b4ca9ad11be3249c2df78 | ['2dfcbac8ffbe4fe1bf2ee358acb00cf0'] | The higher-ups left Special behind, who quickly ran back to the archives. He spotted the band Ghouls standing outside the infirmary, Alpha trying his best to console Air, but avoided eye contact with them. As soon as he gathered the books and folders he needed, he headed back to his office. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. The Second Emeritus was sitting on his chair, getting up as soon as the Ghoul walked through the frame and cornered him.
“They are making me abdicate. My younger brother will take over and it’s all your fault” he gritted his teeth, “Why did you have to tell her!?”
Special felt his heart race against his chest from fear, like every time he tried to talk him up, but there was something different this time. The Second wasn’t in charge anymore. He could speak up for himself now.
“She was going to notice sooner or later!” the elder Ghoul snarled “You weren’t tending to your duties as the leader of the Ghost project, delegated all of your dirty work to me while you drank like a sailor and fucked around. Two of your Ghouls have just died, did you know which ones? Of course, you don’t! You couldn’t care less about them, could you?”
The Second Emeritus stepped back and took a seat on the couch, pensive.
“Earth and Water, right?” he asked, his mismatched eyes peeking from over his sunglasses, “Look, I don’t know about taking care of Ghouls as much as you. If they are unwell, I don’t know what to do. As much as I would like to help, I can’t”.
The elder Ghoul relaxed his shoulders, touched. _Maybe he wasn’t a cold-hearted asshole, deep down. Maybe he had a soft spot. Maybe…_ The Second rose from his seat and landed a punch against Special’s skull, knocking him out.
“While I care about my Ghouls, I don’t give a rat’s ass about a snitch like you”.
Special passed out for hours. He remembers seeing the three remaining band Ghouls walking into his office and surrounding him, but nothing else. He felt cold all of a sudden. For a moment, he thought he wasn’t going to make it.
Imperator had asked Nihil to go to the Summoning Room and open the door to where the preserved bodies were and count them while she had some business to attend to. She rushed up to her bedroom chamber, opened one of her cabinets and picked a large hand bell. _I hope it still works, it’s been a while_ , she whispered to herself. When she joined Nihil in the Summoning Room, she drew a different summoning circle on the altar and surrounded it with charcoal, a few pieces of iron and sulfur.
“Do you have the solution to the mask problem, Sister?” Nihil asked, dragging the corpses out of the preservation room.
“I do” she approached him and helped him carry them out. They were both old, but they still had some strength in them, “I just hope I still remember the formula”
Both higher-ups walked back to the altar and Imperator took one last step to the front, holding up the hand bell and rang three times. While she studied Ghouls, she learnt that only the ‘servant’ type Ghouls, the ones she summoned for Church duties, needed a vessel and a blood oath with their master. Another type of Ghouls, the so-called ‘dealers’ needed to be summoned with an artifact, usually something that produced a sound. ‘Dealer’ Ghouls couldn’t speak human languages, and usually had to be paid the right price —usually a human soul— for them to offer their services in exchange.
Imperator’s call earned no response, so she rang the hand bell another three times. A few seconds later, a faint bell could be heard ringing three times. The sulfur and the charcoal in the circle were set ablaze and the room was soon covered in thick, black clouds of smoke. Standing on the circle, there was a large, bulky Ghoul wearing nothing but an iron demon mask, leather overalls with the Fire alchemical symbol and wielded a large blacksmith hammer.
“Hello, Hurik” Imperator greeted him, waving her hands to get his attention, “You look just fine”.
Nihil stood there in shock. He had no idea Imperator was able to summon a ‘dealer’ Ghoul and he soon found himself trying to figure out whose soul she had to sell to get that. Was it her own? No, it didn’t look like it.
“Look, I’m going to summon more servants” her hands pointed at the corpses and the altar, then she circled her face with her index finger before tracing a cross over it and then pretend to slice her own throat with it, “The masks were a good idea, but they keep taking them off and dying”.
Hurik nodded to let her know he understood.
“I need new masks” Imperator circled her face again and pressed both her palms against it. “And I want you to weld them to the vessels’ faces, did you understand?”
The blacksmith imitated her gesture, as if asking her if she wanted the masks to be like his. Imperator nodded back.
“But… if the mask is like his and is welded to the vessel’s face, how can we get access to their mouths easily?” Nihil asked, still unsure about what was going on, “The vet needs it for their medical checkings and to remove swallowed objects”.
“Don’t worry, Papa. I have it covered” Imperator turned to Hurik again and pointed to her own mouth, as if asking where did he hide his. |
3458acdadceb424fa500cf8553f7798e | ['2e08f104b6ec4f2fa3d496c5c9e27c26'] | “What do you mean?” Wonwoo asked out of breath but when he looked at Mingyu’s eyes he knew there will be no answer to his question, so he just nodded. There was something unsettling about everything but he didn’t wanted his worries to overcome everything. Mingyu stood up to go to his drawer and got something from it, Wonwoo watched him still lying on Mingyu’s bed, his bare body brushing against the soft sheets. When Mingyu climbed again on the bed, he took Wonwoo’s hand with his own free hand, and kissed him on the lips. Wonwoo felt his heart breaking with it. Softness wasn’t regular, softness meant feelings and he was afraid of them, he pushed Mingyu away, sitting on the bed to look at him. “Answer me,” Wonwoo commanded. Mingyu just stared at him and pushed him down to the bed again. Not saying a word, just kissing him again. Wonwoo felt a little pressured and overwhelmed.
“Just, follow me,” Mingyu said over his lips and he heard a plop and Mingyu left his lips. Wonwoo moved his head to see what Mingyu was doing. The younger was pouring something over his fingers, he shrieked when Mingyu touched his anus, making circles around it. Wonwoo hold his breath those seconds, letting a high pitched sound when Mingyu pressed his finger inside.
Wonwoo breathed. “Wait,” He moved to be able to reach Mingyu’s arm, Mingyu placed his free hand on Wonwoo’s chest to push him into the mattress again but did as the older asked, taking out his finger. “I’m scared” he mumbled and Mingyu kissed his lips softly, this time, Wonwoo took the kiss because he knew what it meant.
“I’ll be careful,” Mingyu breathed against Wonwoo’s lips. “I’ll go slow,” he said and brushed his finger against Wonwoo’s entrance. “Can I?” he asked and Wonwoo nodded, closing his eyes tightly, Mingyu let a soft chuckle. “Relax, it’s me after all,” Mingyu said and he was right. There was nothing to fear if it was Mingyu. Wonwoo placed his hands on the arm Mingyu had on his chest, digging his nails into it, drawing blood but he wasn’t aware of it as he felt overwhelmed by the pain in his arse. Mingyu waited a little to start to move it, in and out, making Wonwoo groan, yet he saw every reaction on Wonwoo. He took out his finger and Wonwoo whimpered. “It is okay?” he asked and Wonwoo nodded, he did it again, adding a second finger, feeling Wonwoo’s nails ripping apart the skin on his arm. He started to thrust his fingers inside Wonwoo and he heard him moan softly, a sound full of pleasure. Making Wonwoo groan when he found that spot that made Wonwoo see stars and have an electrifying sensation on his back, making him arch it.
“Do you like it?” Mingyu asked, his voice sounding as if he was holding his breath.
“Yes,” Wonwoo breathed in between the uncontrollable moaning he was letting out. “Stop, please,” Wonwoo breathed as Mingyu kept brushing Wonwoo’s prostate and the older couldn’t help but moan. It was overwhelming, all the feelings he got from just one spot on his body. “Gyu,” he moaned and Mingyu got the hint, retracting his fingers, Wonwoo sighed and let his hands fall into the mattress.
“Are you ready?” Mingyu asked and Wonwoo nodded. Mingyu poured the lube on Wonwoo’s ass and some into his own penis, he placed Wonwoo’s legs over his shoulders. “I’ll be slow, ‘kay?” He said and Wonwoo closed his eyes. Mingyu positioned himself on Wonwoo’s entrance, pushing his hips forward slowly, Wonwoo groaning under his touch. Wonwoo’s walls being to closed. “Wonwoo, relax,” he breathed and just hearing Mingyu’s voice made him relax. Mingyu started to move his hips in a circular motion. Wonwoo placed his arm over his mouth to contain any sound that could came from his mouth at that moment. Mingyu moved Wonwoo’s arm and go closer to kiss him, he change the position made Wonwoo groan in pain. “Sorry,” Mingyu said.
“It’s okay,” Wonwoo said and placed a kiss on Mingyu’s lips. When Wonwoo got used to the pain he started to moan, he tried to contain the sound yet, there was that heavenly sound. There was some pleasure on his ass being ripped apart.
Mingyu’s hips started to thrust, slowly, in and out, Mingyu groaned at every one of those thrusts and Wonwoo cried because it was a good feeling, it was good and he couldn’t believe he was actually liking it, enjoying it. It was pure pleasure and soon the thrust became faster and the moans became louder and louder, unable to keep a steady breathing, drooling as he didn’t found himself to close his mouth when Mingyu hit his prostate once again. He moaned Mingyu’s name, pleasure numbing his senses and he hold onto it, he stopped thinking about it for a second and every thrust in his prostate made his world revolve, it was heavenly, even more than a blowjob.
“I love you,” Mingyu breathed against his ear, so breathy and low almost came unnoticed but it didn’t matter if Wonwoo didn’t heard it the first time because Mingyu repeated it at every thrust. Wonwoo’s body tensed when he got a grip on what the younger had been breathing. Wonwoo wanted everything to stop. “I fucking love you,” Mingyu groaned as his hips hit Wonwoo’s prostate and the only sound in the room was their breathings and the filthy sound of their sweaty skin hitting. Wonwoo cried as a shiver ran on his back at every hit on his prostate, drooling. He didn’t wanted to hear that. He never wanted to hear those confusing words. “Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathed, filthy sounds becoming stronger. “I love you, I love you so much,” Mingyu kept repeating for all the times he swallowed the words. For every time Wonwoo did something that made him fall in love. | 01d897a7ad1144dbb6103c6825de893c | ['2e08f104b6ec4f2fa3d496c5c9e27c26'] | > I'm sooooo tired of this, help me to keep going. I mean I have 124k now and... well it's an easy plot with nothing for me to worry about it flows nicely and softly it's written on his own but I cannot focus on something else yet and it's killing me.
>
> Anyways, hope you like this chapter, nicer and cuter things are about to come and funny stuff too. I'm really proud of the following chapters. My fav is chapter 32 I haven't posted snipets because it got harder and harder to open the archive on the iPad because its weight, anyways, if you want some I can work on it :)
25. Chapter 25
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Mingyu's birthday.
Even when Mingyu and Wonwoo loved each other madly, there were things they hated about each other and things that made them being the opposite. The completely opposite. And, in that very moment when Wonwoo was buried in the couch where he had sex with Mingyu a few weeks before, crossing his arms, hearing the younger laugh at someone’s joke. He didn’t know whom because Mingyu knew many people and some of there weren’t actually important to introduce them to him, yet, it was overwhelming the number of persons and not all of them were Mingyu’s friends but his family, and friends of his parents. It seemed like socializing was part of Mingyu’s personality and his parents knew that very well as the drown their own house with people in a way to give Mingyu the best happiness an outgoing guy like him needed.
There was the opposite in them. Wonwoo wasn’t self-centered but more reserved than Mingyu, keeping his socializing into school and friends. His friends never surpassed more than twenty people but he loved to be alone in his room reading a book or being alone with Mingyu, not having sex but just being in his company.
Wonwoo pushed himself even deeper on the couch, crossing his arms on his chest, hearing everything and just wanting everything to end.
“Shouldn’t be enjoying your boyfriend’s birthday?” Wonwoo heard at his side and the couch dug beside him, he turned to find Seungcheol, his wide playful smile on his lips. Wonwoo stared at him for a few seconds. He started to look around for Seuncheol’s boyfriends. “I’m also Mingyu’s friend,” Seungcheol breathed.
“Mingyu is the one who should be enjoying this,” Wonwoo said, “this is not my thing and it’s not my birthday,” Wonwoo said. Sighing a little after his own words. “Where’s Mr. Church and his other boyfriend?” Wonwoo asked looking at Seungcheol, the older smiled widely at the nickname.
“Jeonghan is late and Mr. Church is with his family, it seems he couldn’t skip it,” Seungcheol said a playful tone in his voice and if Wonwoo didn’t know the guy itself he would more likely think he was hitting on him. Yet, it was Seungcheol and Wonwoo knew him and knew he was in love with Jeonghan and Jisoo. “Don’t get sad, try to be a little more supportive to your boyfriend,” Seungcheol said and Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh.
“He’s my boyfriend and he knows how I am,” Wonwoo said.
“And how is your family, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol said and Wonwoo frowned at him. “Here’s Minghao’s family but not yours, not his boyfriend’s family.”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo just breathed, feeling empty at the idea of how different they were, on how different their families were, and for a moment he started to feel a gap between them but just when he was about to drown into that idea, a hand took his wrist, looking at Mingyu, a wide, cheerful smile on his lips, he smiled as a reflex, as Mingyu’s smile just made him smile.
“My dad want to introduce someone,” he said and Wonwoo giggled because Mingyu seemed as happy as ever. It made him feel bad, he didn’t look this happy with him, alone, was that normal? He followed Mingyu, soon he changed the grip on his wrist to hold hands with Mingyu, the younger looked at him, stopping and turning to kiss him. Every worry vanished with the touch. Smiling at him. “Dad,” Mingyu said happily, a little loud to be heard through all the people and all the chatting in the house.
“Mingyu,” his father said happily moving his arm to place it around Mingyu’s shoulders, the movement made Mingyu release his grip on Wonwoo’s hand and he felt in the shadows. “He’s Kim Myungkoo, he’s part of the Communication Faculty,” he breathed, Mingyu offered his hand, Mr. Myungkoo took it gladly shaking it with a smile on his lips.
“Nice to meet you,” Mingyu breathed. “My dad is eager to get me connections,” he said and his smile flashed. “He thinks that would get me into the University.” The man chuckled at the sentence.
“Yeah, not happening, but it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Myungkoo said, his eyes glistening in playfulness, “I have seen you have talent,” he breathed, “and your dad is good, he said such wonderful things about you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you should believe a parent words, they tend to keep the bad things about their child's,” Mingyu joked, earning a loud laugh from the presents.
“Also,” Mingyu’s dad said, turning to look at Wonwoo, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him in front of Myungkoo and besides Mingyu. “He’s my son’s boyfriend, he got into the University with a scholarship thanks to his good grades,” he said, every word full of proudness as if he was his own son, making Wonwoo blush.
“Major?” Myungkoo asked, a curious look on his eyes.
“Jeon Wonwoo,” Wonwoo said at first, as Mingyu’s dad never pronounced his name, “I got into Aesthetics,” he finished.
“Aesthetics, humanities?”
“Yes,” Wonwoo breathed and felt Mingyu taking his hand. |
e9d8d61ffaf44ac2875dc9d797076a0b | ['2e1545b5389a4548ad72bcce6cf17a81'] | “Thomas. Good, buddy.” Rick stayed where he was, relaxed in his chair. He raised the glasses enough to trade a telling look with Magnum before dropping them down again.
“Still too bright?”
“Just a little. Much better than this morning. At least there’s only one of everyone today.” Rick sounded unconcerned. “Not my first concussion. And definitely not my worst.”
“Too true.” Magnum’s agreement was quick and easy.
“How’s your back?” Rick turned the questioning around, tone suddenly much sharper and finely focused.
“Fine. I know you’re glaring at me behind those glasses.” Magnum laughed. “Honestly, it barely even hurts. Like you just said, not the worst I’ve ever had.”
“I used to have such a normal life. Now I’m surrounded by people who rate their concussions and stab wounds. Where did I go wrong?” Katsumoto’s voice was both amused and horrified, as he walked up behind Magnum. The detective looked more relaxed than usual, though Magnum admitted that it was probably because Katsumoto had left his jacket in the car. And dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, just as everyone else had today.
“Good to see you looking better, Rick.”
“Thanks, Katsumoto.” Rick nodded. “And thanks for yesterday, by the way. I never got a chance to thank you for helping out.”
Katsumoto nodded once. He was about to say something more, when Higgins called everyone to the table.
“Later.” He walked away, leaving Rick and Magnum to follow.
By the time everyone had eaten their fill, the mood around the table was mellow and relaxed. Magnum was soaking up the presence of his family, feeling immensely lucky to have them all around him, not much the worse for wear.
He missed Kumu’s soothing presence at the table, but she’d gone to visit a friend for a few days. They’d all decided that it was better not to call and worry her, now that everything was over. She could hear the story of everything that had happened, when she got back to the estate.
Magnum was glad that she hadn’t been faced with the tension and fear of the last two days, but he knew she’d have plenty to say when she heard the full story. Even getting Rick to tell the tale probably wouldn’t make her any happier about being unaware of what had happened to her ‘ohana.
He tuned back in to the story Rick was telling, trying to figure out how a simple tale about a group of students on spring break had turned into this complicated story about neon blue cocktails, cans of whipped cream, coconut shells and human pyramids. He’d have to get Rick to tell him this story again sometime. Maybe more than once. The look on TC’s face suggested that he wasn’t the only one confused.
When Rick finally wrapped it up, Katsumoto leaned back, bemused and amused.
“Seriously?”
“My hand on a Bible.”
“Well, then.” Katsumoto nodded once. Magnum had to give the detective his due – he was clearly way smarter than he let on, if he had followed and understood Rick’s story. Maybe Katsumoto could explain it all to him sometime.
“While I have your hand on a Bible,” Katsumoto wondered, “metaphorically speaking.”
“Yeah?” Rick’s question was careful now.
“I haven’t got your statement yet.” Katsumoto went on. “And this isn’t an official question, either. I’m just curious how you and TC ended up in that building, and how you managed that shot.”
“Okay.” Rick nodded. “Sure, I can tell you that.”
“Well, the first time I woke up in the basement, the idiot wanted me to tell my friend to back off. I refused, and he did this.” Rick waved a hand at his face. “Then he came back again and kept wanting the same thing. I was less than helpful, shall we say?”
“I’ll bet.” Katsumoto couldn’t help the mutter, surprising a laugh from everyone else.
“Then he sent Thomas that picture. Sorry about that, buddy.” Rick glanced at Magnum, who shrugged and smiled.
“It’s okay, Rick. As long as you’re here now.” Magnum’s nonchalant tone belied the relief he knew was in his eyes, clear enough for Rick to see it easily.
“Then he left again. I know, now, that was when he went to meet Thomas. But he left the light on, so I could see. And I found a rough spot on the chair arm and managed to use it to wear through the rope, enough to snap it. Then I found a chisel and used it to break the lock on the door.”
Rick glanced around and found everyone hanging on his words, which made him stumble to a halt.
“Go on, brother.” TC encouraged him.
“The door opened into a corridor and I headed right, then found a door that led to the street, and that’s when TC found me.”
“I wanted him to go to the hospital, but he refused.” TC added now, shaking his head. “Stubborn.”
“TC told me where you’d gone,” Rick nodded at Magnum, “and we decided to follow you. We got to the tenth floor about the same time you were getting yourself slashed in the back by the idiot. We found your gun there, and I took it with me.”
“Then you came up a floor to find us.” Magnum chipped in now.
“Yeah, and that idiot was threatening to stab you in the neck with that knife of his.” Rick sighed heavily. “There was no way I was letting him do that. Not even to save myself and TC.”
“Save yourselves?” Katsumoto questioned. “How so?”
“Yeah. He threatened us all, and Thomas said he go with him – if he let the two of us go.” Rick sounded less than impressed.
Katsumoto and Higgins shared a look, then focused their attention on TC’s next words.
“We’ll be having a discussion about that later.”
“Come on, TC, let it go.” Magnum’s tone carried a hint of pleading, but in vain. | 63d59d89de334521baa5f4e3593bf21f | ['2e1545b5389a4548ad72bcce6cf17a81'] |
Mistakes
**Author's Note:**
> Author’s note: This takes place after the end of ‘Bad day to be a hero’, episode 10 in season 1 of the 2018 reboot of the show. I don’t own the show or the characters, but only the words on this page. This is also posted on FF.net. I’d love to hear what you think.
Mistakes
by USER
Juliet Higgins had made mistakes in her life. More mistakes than she could count. The worst of which had left her disavowed and unofficially banished to Hawaii. Which was about as far as it was possible to be from the disaster that her lack of judgement had caused.
Understandably, in her mind, mistakes were therefore something to be avoided. The consequences were never good.
She’d walked away from her career and her life in England, and made a new life for herself in a place generally referred to as paradise. And it was a good life, she had to admit, even if it was often a trifle dull. Uneventful.
Life with MI6 had always had its quiet times as well. Every mission had moments of blinding terror, and days of living on a knife edge of adrenaline and tension. But there were also weeks of preparation – slogging through details of neighbourhoods, escape routes, extraction points, deep background on targets and enemies, and the endless physical training to keep instincts sharp. She’d excelled at her job, and she’d enjoyed it. Her mission record had been an enviable list of successes, until she made that one fatal mistake.
She’d met Robin Masters by accident, not long after finding herself unemployed. He’d made her an offer that seemed heaven-sent, and she’d boarded a plane to Hawaii, ready for a new challenge. But a well-run estate and a life of leisure had become somewhat taxing, for want of a better word.
Then Robin Masters had let her know that a friend would be moving into the guest cottage. He’d not offered much detail, except that the man was a friend and had served as a SEAL. That the man was the inspiration behind the White Knight books. And that his name was Thomas Magnum.
Juliet had immediately done some digging into one Thomas Magnum. She hadn’t dug too deeply, not wanting to alert anyone that she was looking. After all, disavowed didn’t offer protection from certain individuals with axes to grind, so it was best to be unobtrusive.
But the information she found with a high-level surface trawl was almost enough: Thomas Sullivan Magnum, highly-decorated and now-retired SEAL, served in Afghanistan, captured along with his unit by the Taliban, and held as a POW until the team escaped. There were a few news articles from around the time the military had announced the escape and safe return of the team, and from those she had gleaned the names of the other three team members. A quick search of their names showed that all three of them were also in Hawaii, all of them gainfully employed.
A discrete email to a colleague still active in MI6 had netted more detail. Magnum and his friends had been held for just over eighteen months in a camp in the Korengal Valley. All further details were highly classified, but rumour had it that the Taliban camp had been ‘relocated’ not long after Magnum and his friends escaped. And the relocation had apparently not been voluntary on the Taliban’s side. Her colleague also mentioned that all the medical records for all four men had been classified as well, implying that they had been subjected to more than the average level of abuse by their captors. Her blood ran cold at the thought, and she was suddenly glad that her work had taken her to places other than Afghanistan.
Magnum, she found, was working as a private investigator, and considering the laughable rates he was charging – well, he was either a freeloader who lived on air, or independently wealthy. Still, he had served with honour, so he couldn’t be worse than any of the other military men she knew.
Then she read one of the White Knight books and her expectations dropped considerably. If the man was anything like the character – and why wouldn’t he be, given that he inspired it? – he was sure to be arrogant, self-centred, unprepared and worst of all, flippant about things that ought to be taken seriously. Oh, joy.
One week later, Magnum arrived. Dropped off by his three friends at the estate’s front gates at sunset, sporting reddened knuckles and a bruised jaw, carrying nothing more than a duffel bag of all his worldly belongings. Not quite what she’d expected. Shorter, for one thing. The little-boy grin he’d aimed her way had done nothing to change her opinion of him, either. The lads clearly shared her view of him the next morning, when they’d hounded him back from an early-morning paddle in the ocean. That had made her smile, enough so that she would never tell him that Zeus and Apollo would never attack him unless specifically ordered to do so. It was just too amusing to watch the daily antics.
Since then, everything she’d seen and heard in the first few months of his stay had confirmed her first snap judgement of the man. Even after he dragged her, admittedly not entirely against her will, into his various cases. She had to admit, it had livened things up for her. Even if she had been shot. |
84783e70d10b42089b37190f30dd9d5d | ['2e27bda0521f4befbe00ec8267885f37'] | “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up,” Potter replied, hanging his head a little as a light blush formed on his cheeks, “that was kind of embarrassing, though it is part of the reason why I asked you here. So I could make up for the drunken display from last time and apologize for you having to witness that.”
He scoffed and waved a hand at him, “No apologies necessary, Potter. I think you more than made up for it later on.” Draco found himself blushing along with him, his mind wandering back to that night, of being in Potter's bed... he coughed and leaned back in his chair a bit when the waiter reappeared with a bucket of ice and the wine.
They ordered their food shortly after and made pleasant small talk during their wait, discussing their occupations and friends, and staying away from any topics that could cause an argument. Draco knew that eventually that would be impossible to achieve, but for the time being, while they waited patiently for their food, it seemed to work. Potter was rather funny. He was blunt with his observations, even when they weren't exactly nice ones, and Draco found himself covering his mouth more than a few times to stop himself from snorting as he laughed.
They hadn't even been served their meals yet and the fabric of Draco's pants was stretched tight across his lap as he hardened beneath the cover of the table. He blamed it on Potter's dashing smiles and twinkling eyes, and mostly the smooth, deep voice that rumbled out from his chest when he laughed in a way that made Draco's skin tingle and tighten.
He noticed that Potter only sipped at his wine, barely drinking a glass of it by the time they were nearly done eating. Draco, on the other hand, was on his third glass, needing the blood-red liquid to keep himself relaxed. Although it wasn't helping in his struggle against the urge to fling himself across the table into Potter's well-muscled and defined arms. He had taken off his jacket and Draco had difficulty tearing his gaze away from the white fabric clinging to his upper body. He hoped he wasn't drooling.
Draco downed the rest of his wine and pushed his nearly empty plate of Chicken Marengo away. It had been delicious. He sat patiently while Potter finished telling his story in between bites of saffron spiced potato.
“... and I was tied to the chair as Hermione berated me! She went on for hours, about how I shouldn't have just run off like that, that no one knew where I'd gone to, and how they were all so worried about me. It's not like anything bad happened. And I had let Fred and George know where I'd gone, so it wasn't as if I'd just up and disappeared. It wasn't my fault they didn't let anyone know.”
He gave Potter a weak smile. Well, technically the Weasley terrors had let someone know, but Draco wasn't going to correct Potter on that. He'd just wonder why they had chosen to tell Draco, of all people, and then he would have to explain how he'd been crushing on Potter for years, and that the red-headed duo had figured it out for themselves and had mercilessly teased him for a whole year straight about it, and... and he wasn't ready for that level of honesty quite yet.
“Did she take your wand away, too? And here I thought you were an Auror, Potter. It's pitiful of you to have let Granger disarm you like that,” Draco teased, chuckling as Potter scowled at him and then broke into laughter along with him.
“Yeah, I suppose it was rather pitiful,” Potter paused and finished off his own wine, leaving them in an awkward silence. Draco didn't like awkward silences.
He was about to ask for the check when Potter spoke again, his voice low and quiet, a contrast to the boisterous conversation from before, and caused Draco to nearly choke on his breath.
“So, have you thought more about my offer to return the favor?”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Let me know what you think.
9. Chapter 9
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Porn, so much porn... because I felt like it. And I'm really bad at leaving it right at that spot in the story that probably makes you want to hunt me down and strangle me for it. Sorry.
Harry hoped that he didn't seem too nervous as he waited for Malfoy to respond. The man looked absolutely edible tonight, especially when his face started to become suffused with a delicate, pink color. He had been trying not to stare intently at Malfoy the whole time, not wanting to seem like a creep, or scare him away, even though it was hard to tear his eyes away from looking at the Adonis blonde.
“I have,” Malfoy replied, speaking slowly and carefully. Harry watched him pour another glass of wine and gulp some of it down, and he smiled at how easily the man had become flustered. “I'm not sure that would be the best idea, Potter.”
Quirking an eyebrow at him, Harry smiled a little mischievously, “Well, I'm open to suggestions,” and then he blatantly let his legs fall open so that his knee was pressed into Malfoy's leg.
He felt Malfoy's leg twitch as they stared each other down. Harry was slightly amused at Malfoy's lack of speech but he was far more interested in the way his eyes looked as if they were undressing him. He licked his lips and reached into his pocket for some galleons, setting an unknown handful down against the table and hoping it was enough to pay the bill. | 059a92eb817b4aec9f06abefc739aadc | ['2e27bda0521f4befbe00ec8267885f37'] | Waiting at the entrance on to the pitch I look to my left and see a swirl of scarlet, jet-black inky hair, and know that it is you, Harry. I squint my eyes shut and turn away, not able to handle seeing you. The crowd starts applauding as our opposition runs out onto the field and takes flight.
As the Slytherin's go out, one stand cheers enthusiastically for us, the others in complete silence. When I’m finally up in the air I feel slightly better, free as I feel the tepid breeze ruffle my hair. But then I see a pair of green eyes straight in front of me, staring long and hard. A shudder passes right through my body and it’s not from the wind.
Madame Hooch screams and I know that it is the signal to get in position for the game to start. That means that you will be close to me again, staring me down with your piercing gaze. I cannot look but I can feel your presence anyway. I start breathing hard, unable to control the irregularity of it. The whistle sounds and I am almost dislodged from my broom out of shock. I manage to keep myself righted and begin to put speed in my flight. My eyes are wide in search for the snitch but keep glancing around to catch sight of the Adonis Gryffindor Seeker.
Then, I catch a flash of gold spiralling out of control. Instinctively I reach out and grab it in my hand. The players go still. I turn to my left, then to my right, and see you, Harry, with your eyes wide and mouth agape. I realize I’ve caught the snitch. Finally the scores are shouted and I know that Slytherin has won 150 to 10. I drop down onto the ground and off of my broom, not too exited about my final defeat of the ‘wonder boy’ at Quidditch.
My brutish team mates are screaming like lunatics and crowding around me. They don’t understand that I’m not as ecstatic as they are. I am swarmed by a sea of green and cannot escape, having no more strength to put effort into trying anyway. My team and fellow Slytherin’s pushes carry me along to the locker room and then down to the dungeons thereafter.
I flee to my room as soon as possible after evasion from the clutches of the many adoring females. Funny, that’s not even my preference. As I reach my bed I collapse upon it and the tears overwhelm me.
-
I’m roused awake by their partying and turn to find my pocket watch on the end table. Four o’clock in the morning? Bloody hell! I forcefully roll myself over onto my back and stare at the high ceiling, eyes sore and puffy. Taking a shuddering breath I push myself to the floor and sneak quietly out the door. Unfortunately, I’m not as sneaky as I used to be.
Blaise taps me on the shoulder as I pass by his conversation with a Fifth Year that I don’t know. I try to avoid his questioning by ignoring him but it doesn’t work. Instead of my usual patience with his nonsense I stare him in the eyes and point blank, tell him where to go. Not politely either.
The room goes still, but I have little care in the world for anything any more. Not even myself. Coldly, I make my way out into the dim halls of the dungeons, pushing past everyone standing in my way. I keep walking, my feet shuffling along the dirty corridor floor, echoing back at me with twice the intensity.
Carelessly I wander, not giving any heed to where I might be going or whom I might run into, whether it be Filch or even Dumbledore. But, lady luck is not with me tonight; instead I come into contact, literally, with a gliding black figure. I presume that this person is wearing a cloak, although my awareness at the moment isn’t very keen. I look up into the hood of the cloak in wonder of who may be beneath it. I can’t see much except for a shocking flash of green. It seems I am recognized though because I go on a wild chase as they turn and flee.
Turning around a corner I see at the next one, the tail end of the cloak, and follow it. I can hear the pattering of footsteps, which triggers me to move faster, and out of curiosity, keep going. Apparently the part about the cat dying hasn’t sunk in yet. I turn round so many corners and pass by so many paintings that I cannot discern one from another. Past the next one I can see the figure slowing down, trying to decide on which turn to take next.
This is where I make my move. I dash as quickly as I can and bolt right into this person, knocking them off of their feet and into the wall with a resounding thud.
The hood falls down and I start to back away, stunned by whom I see. It is the person that I had hoped I would not have to see for the rest of my life for that matter. Images overtake me. Stumbling to the ground, my hands automatically go to my face to shield it from sight as the tears fall, yet again. I’m shaking like I’m having some kind of a spasm or seizure. And, when I see him trying to get up, just by looking at his appearance I can tell what he has been doing and why he desperately tried to get away from me. |
4c5674b215e3470780a8fc34e413cb55 | ['2e384cd682904cc2a4c3c752352fc113'] |
1. Admission Suspicion
He raised an eyebrow.
Nothing.
He leant forward over steepled fingers and let a slow malicious smile spread over his face.
Still nothing.
He let his face fall into a deep frown as he prepared a suitably subtle insult to crush her spirit, but before he could stick the knife in-
"OOOO! I love your paper knife! Is the handle a viper?!"
She sat on a hard-backed chair before his wide, imposing desk. Practically radiating sunlight. Sunbeams and excited flowers and enthusiastic hmm…kittens? No, she was more of a puppy, an eager, desperate-to-please pup with a-
"I'm just so excited to be here! I love how old the school is! And I bet you have a huge library and I heard you have a ballroom and a pool and-and-and a big gymnasium-!"
Hmph. So she's perky. Time to break out the big guns. He'd be damned if anyone saw a pupil leave his office looking anything less than heartbroken. He stood slowly, his long, thin frame unfolding and strode gracefully around his room, stopping to adjust a thick curtain or stroke the spine of a book, and he spoke as he checked his fingers for dust and slowly paced the room.
"I'm sure you're aware of this Academy's long and illustrious history. Our alumni go on to achieve great things and are consistently the leaders in their chosen fields and therefore we have set the bar understandably high - and bars are what have landed you here, amongst the bright, the brilliant, the talented and those destined for greatness.'
Her wide green eyes followed him, drinking in every drawn-out word.
' Your international achievements in the field of gymnastics are what led you to our school and what won your admission. Quite simply, we chose to overlook your practically non-existent academic attributes- home schooling by your mother, a bizarrely eclectic curriculum and so forth, based purely on the glory you can bring to this school through each little twist and turn on the parallel bars-'
He stopped behind her, placing long spidery fingers on each side of the chair -back. He bent low over her and whispered, soft as a snake -
'- But here there's no one who cares enough to catch you, so you'd better not slip up or you'll hit the ground so hard expulsion will be an act of mercy, and I myself will be watching your progress. Very. Closely….' He felt that warm fuzz inside as he waited for the tears to co-
'Really?! Oh, that is-, it's like, I've never even had a dad or like an uncle before! So I can come to you with any problems or just to say hi or –oo! I can bake! Do you like frosting!?'
She had stood up in an instant, practically on her tiptoes and vibrating with well-meaning excitement whilst Professor Sabri's brain switched into panic mode:
QUERY:UNCLE?/?
…NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE ON SUBJECT
SOLUTION:/ =?
WORKING…
…
…
…
FORCE QUIT FORCE QUIT FORCE QUIT FORCE QUIT
Without a word he herded the babbling teenager out of his office and slammed the door behind her. He turned around and leant against it, heart still hammering away, only to hear a loud Thump. He turned and saw several inches of blonde hair caught in the door. He watched, mind still reeling as the hair inched upwards in jerky movements 'til he slowly reached out, turned the handle of his thick, dark door and saw the blonde locks whisked away to freedom. He shut his door again, brain cooling, breathing slowing, leaving him calmer and blissfully alone-
-except for his old friend; the nagging stabbing pain in his leg. He sat down heavily at his desk cursing the dampness of the season that would cripple him in the coming months. Time to use that blasted cane again…
A sudden thought. A sudden passing fancy,
Maybe.…..just maybe… I should have it plated gold? To give it that gleam of power….?
He lifted the expensive cane to eye level, turning it slowly, smirk spreading:
' Yeessss….yeessssssss….the powerrrrrr'
So, mes amies, the new girl has arrived, bringing with her mystery, confusion and rays of sunlight that may heat..or burn! Will her dark past follow her to her new future? Who can say? But! Will it ambush her in the present? That, that is a stor-
"Clopin!"
Uh, um
"What are you doing!?"
I was, um, (be cool, just stay quiet I'll handle this, keep reading) I was merely admiring our magnifique trophy cabinet...
"Don't lie to me you little shit! You were narrating again weren't you?"
No! No! I swear I was talking to myself!
"You were narrating your arse off! I heard you!"
No, I, there was a-my friend was here, he -
"You've been warned countless times you French mentalist! This is going straight to your Head of House!"
No please! Please! I couldn't help it! Please don't I'm trying really hard – look! Look! No handpuppets this time!
"Get back to your class this instant or I'll slap your mouth shut!"
Yes yes, thank you! I promise no more narrating!
"Hmph…..french fruitcake."
Well. What are you looking at?
Yes, you, the chapters over, piss off, or if you feel like giving up on any pretence of a life could always read the rest of this tosh! After all, if I can train a parrot to sing-
-tended.
You just deleted me!
You just deleted me you little git! Go do something worthwhile with your life instead of writing bloody Disney fanfiction! No one ever made a li-I like shagging boy's bums
YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT! I do not like boys bums! And I res- I like boy's willies- ENOUGH! THAT'S IT!
I quit, you hear me? No more Clayton in the rest of this stupid exercise in loneliness! Go and get a few cats you spinsiter!
And use a full stop every now and again!
SLAM!
2. Damn You, Hades! | fe4624949cb44f6aa1ce087cf075176b | ['2e384cd682904cc2a4c3c752352fc113'] | "Oh, you 'just had a fight'? Well tell me something then, Cutie, how many bruises will he have round his throat, huh? What old shed is he crying behind? And you say he 'loves' you!? What is it with you chicks!? Always sticking up for some jerk who knocks you around and you even take the blame -cos I'm damn sure he won't! Think it was a one-off? 'Course you do. This time and Every. Other. Time. Then you'll take the lumps and make the excuses so he doesn't have to!"
He seemed to grow bigger and his voice rose through the speech to a brick-shaking yell and his sarcasm and mockery stung. Every insult and sneer finding it's mark and breaking me down word by word til I just gave up on everything except standing upright.
"-And of course you'll stick it out 'cos once in a while he'll cry afterwards and says he won't ever do it again and he'll say he loves you - til the next time when it's you're fault and you MAKE him do this! Get a GRIP Girlie! Have a little self-preservation if you can't have some damn self-respect!"
I had stood and wept quietly through his rant as he angrily strode round the stable, shouting at the empty twilight. He stopped finally, out of breath and muttered to himself "Okay, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm cool, I'm fine" then slicked his hair back and cracked his shoulders.
Let me tell you - as big and tough as I am now, back then in that shed I just wanted someone to be kind to me, to tell me it wasn't my fault, that everything could be fixed, and would be set right by tomorrow. I wanted my mom. Not as she is now, but before. Before Steve, before the baby, back when it was just us, making dinner, hugging before bed. A lonnng time ago.
At that moment in the stable I wanted to die.
He stepped close again and in a softer voice that almost broke me said:
"He hurt you real bad, huh Meg?
[It was the kindness in his voice that got me and – (ugh gimme a break!)- I wanted to throw my arms around him for comfort. For the last time in my life so far I wanted a hug.
But the last dregs of my self-esteem answered him:]
"It doesn't matter, it's finished now, I've learned my lesson" My treacherous voice cracked.
"A 14 year old who's learned her lesson? Jeez! Someone get me a camera!" He wasn't mocking like before, just trying a weak joke like you make to stop someone crying, but I was stuck sniffling and staring at the ground.
More rustling from above and he pushed something cold into my arms. I lifted it.
It was some kind of old, black metal hip flask, with engraving on the front L..E... T?
"What is it?"
"It's special water, helps you forget"
I remember thinking Yes! That's what I need! I grabbed it in both hands- it was heavy alright - and drank, almost pouring it over myself I was that desperate.
"Whoa! Slow down Sugar! Not too much! After all, you want to forget the fear and bruises, but you gotta keep hold of that 'lil scrap of anger, that bitterness and that special feeling that now, well now you've lived through the worst - And you'll never be fooled again." He mock-whispered the last two lines in my ear and I shivered. He scared me. How did he know? How did he know exactly what I wanted - exactly how I felt? I thought of his angry speech and wondered - has he been through this all before…?
[I still wonder about his words even now, the look on his face when he saw my bruises- then I snap back and remember I really don't give a damn.]
I drank and the taste hit me -oh boy did it sting!
I know now it was liquor, maybe ouzo but more likely whisky, strong whisky and it tasted vaguely fruity, not cranberries, but-
"What, ugh, what is that stuff!?"
"Nectar of the gods, smoozy-poo."
Wincing I gulped it again, it blazed its way down my throat and I dragged air in through my lungs, wondering if it feels like this when your soul burns.
"Nectar of the gods –heh- with a Pomegranate twist."
It hit my stomach hard. I was bent over with tears in my eyes (yeah my mascara couldn't keep up, not then, not now) coughing violently and I remember him watching me, large arms folded, a strange expression I glimpsed behind that cigar smoke. Part savage, smirking triumph and part…tiredness?
Regret?
[What did he want with me? I still don't really know.]
I coughed and spluttered as he watched, eyes glowing, waiting. I knew he was waiting for something. For me.
I looked up.
"So what now?" I asked, trying not to sound scared...or start coughing again.
"Welllll what if I told you I could make it so this Bozo never hurt you again? You, or any other 'babe' he set his eye on? What if I could make him sorry?"
He took my hand to replace my dropped cigarette, leant in and said in a voice I now know so well, a voice that chills:
"Meg; what if I made him scream apologies?" |
93e158c13760485285a27155d43a70f1 | ['2e5246649894441c82512fea24d53fa3'] | “But they taste so good. I would probably eat the hair wax right out of the jar if it tasted like this. I didn’t get to have sweets like this before… well, before I came to live with the Danvers family. My living situation was much much different. No TV, no candy, no novels… I painted because it was __expected __of me, not for the joy of it. I learned because that was what was required of me, not because I took an interest. That was the difference of what used to be my home and the family I found later, Eliza encouraged me to pursue the things that I loved. My family on Krypton was based in the arts on my father’s sides and the sciences and justice on my mothers. Aunt Astra was a warrior. They pressured me into those three groups hard and were always trying to make me choose. Here, I’m free to be whomever I would like to be and that’s something that I have never taken lightly.” Kara was distinctly aware of the fact that she was rambling. No matter how hard she bit her lip between words she just couldn't seem to make herself shut the hell up and it kind of made her want to just fly up and out of the car to bury herself in a thousand foot crater in the Sahara where no one would ever find her and make her face her own humiliation. It was definitely not a proud moment for the Kryptonian to indulge herself in this moment of oddly teenage dramatics, but Kara felt that she had earned herself a moment. Cat chuckled lightly but her eyes shown with interest in Kara's words. It put her slightly more at ease.
“I guess that there is a lot about Krypton that we humans don’t understand. We only know what your cousin has let be known. Maybe one day the two of us could work together on putting something together just for those who might be interested. If you were okay with that?” Cat asks. “I know that I would read the crap out of an article like that, even before I knew that you were...you know, you.”
“If you let me drive for a while, then yes, definitely. As soon as we get home. I don’t want any credit as Kara, though. Just as _her_.”
7. ONE HOUR
“One hour.” Cat says firmly.
“One and a half.” Kara returns.
“Are you attempting to bargain with me, Kiera?!” Cat’s eyebrows shoot up and she seems at least mildly impressed.
“I’m not attempting to do anything, and don’t you dare suddenly pretend to not know my name again.” Kara’s tone is only slightly snappish but for the most part playful.
“Fine then. I’ll give in, but only because I know that I can for the most part trust you with my life.” Cat’s eyes roll and she begins to worry that they are actually going to get stuck that way...just like she has told Carter so many times.
“For the most part? Really, Cat?” Kara looks at her skeptically but her grin is still magical as Cat pulls off at an exit and allows Kara to take the wheel.
The Queen of All Media is still apprehensive because:
A.) This is her favorite car
B.) She can’t think of a single reason that Kara would need to be able to drive, she can fly for Pete’s sake and
C.)Cat always has to be in the driver’s seat, always. She doesn’t even understand herself why she is allowing the girl to take over, even for this long. She gets it. She’s a controlling person, but that is how she has gotten as far as she has in life.
“You have driven a stick shift before, right?” Cat asks and once again Kara doesn’t deign to reply, but instead rolls her eyes.
Kara revs the engine a couple of times and flexes her hands around the leather bound steering wheel. Cat watches the veins in the back of artists’ soft white hands roll as she does so, taking in every detail as Kara adjusts the seat back. Somehow seeing Kara without the glasses but with some quality sunglasses taking control of the car was almost as attractive as when those miles of legs and abs were on display. Cat’s legs clenched together in the passenger’s seat, searching for some much needed friction. All of that dispersed though when Kara took off down a backwoods stretch of road where there was no chance of being seen by the police and the girl threw a fist in the air with a shout of “YEEHAW”.
\-----/////------
“I have never in my life been so embarrassed by you. I mean really, Kara, be glad that no one here actually recognized me. Do you understand how this would have looked if it had gotten out into the papers?” Cat asked as an officer unlocked the handcuffs holding her hands behind her back. “Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t have a driver’s license?”
“I didn’t see how it was germane to the conversation, Ms.Grant.” Kara looks suitably ashamed of herself. She had never so much as had detention before and this was terribly embarrassing and horrible. “Will this go on my permanent record?”
“Honey? You are aware that you aren’t in high school anymore right?” Cat asks in her most teasing of voices that she could come up with.
“Oh… right!” Kara says with a glint in her eyes that Cat kind of adored.
“Truthfully, it’s not an adventure unless handcuffs are involved at _least ___once.” Cat says with a light laugh. “Now, let’s go pick up a car that you are absolutely never allowed to drive again.” | d4221ea23b1b405cb88934d307cf4d3b | ['2e5246649894441c82512fea24d53fa3'] | Cat grips Kara’s hand a bit harder, considering the fact that what Kara was talking about reminded her a little bit too much of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She filed that thought away to mull over later. Kara’s muscles flexed under the soft blue material. Cat knew that this was much more serious than her girlfriend was letting on. After her own experience with veterans and soldiers in war-zones as an investigative journalist, she knew that PTSD was a real thing.
The pair pulled up in front of Carter’s friend’s house, and Cat typed out a quick text to Lois Lane. Kara studies her hands in her lap, clenching and unclenching it into a fist. Their hands looked just the same, Cat’s and Kara’s. The difference was that Kara could carry an entire car in hers, or hold a bomb until it exploded, no worries. Cat’s was not indestructible. Hers could be destroyed with a five pound weight. Still, Cat felt that where it mattered, deep inside of themselves, they matched perfectly.
Cat pulled Kara’s fingers out of the fist, extending them into a flat palm, one-by-one. She smoothed it out until the girl relaxed. She held out her own and placed Kara’s over it.
“You can feel my heartbeat, right? It’s slow and smooth and rhythmic. Now, look into my eyes. You can feel it pick up. That’s excitement, it picked up because I love you. You, however, are not the only thing that makes my heart race. Fear can too. Heights… like when you saved me that time or when you tossed me off of my building. When Livewire attacked. Fear is a part of being human and despite your Kryptonian DNA and your cape, you are allowed to be afraid. Now, let’s go pick up out boy. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees that you’re back.” Cat says decisively, dark brown eyes boring into Kara’s brilliant blue ones.
“Yeah, he probably won’t be as excited as me though. I just… I really love him. Maybe my greatest fear besides being unable to save the world at some point, is messing up with him. You’ve done so well already and the only experience that I have with children is pulling them out of burning buildings.” Kara scoffs.
“Carter loves you, Kara, and you are fantastic with him. If I haven’t screwed him up already, there is no way that you can.” Cat reassures her again.
They ring the doorbell and a stampede of children greets them. They’re all wearing grins and about to burst with excitement., the sight warms Kara’s heart considerably. Then the crowd of little boys parts like the Red Sea as a shout of Kara’s name rings out and Carter comes rushing through, occasionally going so far as to shove people out of the way. He throws his arms around the younger blonde, clinging to her waist.
“You’re okay?” he asks, his eyes looking so much like Cat’s that it hurts.
“Now that you’re with us.” she replies, and means it more than she ever expected that she would.
“Go thank your hosts and we can go somewhere to talk.” Cat kisses his head before sending him off. Her son is nothing if not the epitome of politeness.
“I’ll fix a picnic and we can meet in National Park.” Kara suggests. She doesn’t want to get back into the car if she doesn’t have to.
“That sounds great. Carter will love it.” Cat agrees.
“Do you think that he’ll be angry? I’ve basically been lying to him since we met.” Kara asks anxiously.
“He’ll forgive you just like I did. It isn’t like you haven’t had your reasons. He loves both sides of you already. It’ll all be alright.” Cat is growing kind of frustrated with Kara’s insecurities but realizes that there isn’t much that she can do about them. She can understand her need for Carter’s acceptance. Having him love you can mean a lot to a person; even though he was just one teenage boy.
Kara waits to hug Carter and explain where she was going, before trotting off down a deserted side street of the neighborhood. The appearance of Supergirl over the city distracts Cat’s son from Kara’s absence. If she didn’t know that he was about to find out about Kara’s alter ego, Cat would almost feel sorry for him. Instead, she ruffles his hair in that way he’s convinced that he has outgrown.
“Let’s go, buddy. Kara and I have some things that we want to tell you.” Cat says.
“Is this about why she left? You aren’t breaking up are you?” he asks, a twinge of panic in his voice.
“Yes and no. I won’t be letting her go any time soon. I’m rather attached to her and I really don’t want to have to train a new assistant.” Cat scoffs.
“You love her and you know it.” Carter rolls his eyes and Cat has to remind herself that he’s almost a man now. He picks up on a lot more than she gives him credit for. “The office would miss her. You’d miss her. I’d miss her. CatCo would explode.”
“As usual, you are ring on all counts.” Cat smiles proudly at the pride and joy of her life.
“I hope that she and Lois get along. I know that Clark was her last blood relative I know that Clark was her last blood relative and that that has to hurt a lot, but maybe they can be good for one another? I don’t know much about loss, but I doubt that it good for you to be alone like that.” Carter considers aloud and Cat’s eyebrows shoot up. “I wonder if she heard what Supergirl said. ‘The sun of our lives.’ They both lost everything on the same day and I think that that is really sad. What about you, Mom?” |
34aa025c3fc144ebaab3a444e0c7d426 | ['2e533066da3c4ad19862e2f2b319a7bc'] |
Guide
They ran down the hallway, peds thudding as the metal around them shook with the weight of their frames, each one grateful they were finally able to do so having been locked away in a small cell together. Wheeljack suddenly turned and threw two grenades from each servo, the ominous ticking followed by heat, unbearable for most other species, licking soothingly at their backs. They came to a crossroads, the end of the hallway cutting off at 90 degree angles to the left and right. Silent communication between Starscream and Optimus as they simultaneously turned to the right, not slowing their speed.
A slab of metal slammed down in front of them.
Thousands of tons of Cybertronian frames all collided into a mass pile against the metal wall that by all rights shouldn't have existed let alone appeared out of nowhere. The wall slid backwards with the awful scrape of metal against metal, just enough for the mechs to untangle themselves.
"Shockwave! Get your huge aft off my wing!" Starscream snapped from the bottom of the pile, still managing to shriek enough for the others to wince despite being smothered.
"Forget your slaggin' wing! What in the Pit just happened?!" Ratchet bit right back.
"Theory: unseen guide." Soundwave suggested.
"Oh yes, all will be well, the great Primus has suddenly decided to intervene." Knockout drawled sarcastically. Optimus shot a glare at him as he stood, his helm whipping around a klik after to look back towards where they'd come. Moments later the others heard it as well.
"Divine intervention or not, it would be wise to make haste." Magnus summed up correctly. With those words they were off again.
At the next split in the hallway, this time an addition on the left to the one they were on, all of them slowed down. Whoever was helping them had learned as well it seems, for a block came up early enough for them to have maintained their speed, forcing them onward. It continued like this for quite a distance, Soundwave being the only one able to keep track of how many turns they had taken. Finally they were led to a sealed door at the end of a hallway. They stopped in front of it and some were shocked when it didn't move.
"Sort of makes sense." Knockout commented. Strange looks in his direction. "Well if it is someone on this ship manipulating things they probably would've freed themselves first."
"Any helpful suggestions on how we can open it?" Ratchet asked with no small amount of snark. Shockwave stepped forward and plunged his servo into the edge between the door and it's frame. He looked blankly over at Bulkhead.
"Oh, right." The green mech mirrored the motion and together they pulled the door out completely. As they went to enter Optimus placed a servo on each shoulder.
"Allow Ratchet to accompany you, it may be that the one assisting us is injured." They both nodded in understanding. Once Ratchet had been placed in between Shockwave and Bulkhead the three went single file into the room.
The first thing that reached Ratchet's audials was the keening, spark deep cries of all encompassing pain. He didn't think, just acted, pushing Shockwave aside and racing forward. There was a single cell in the room, at the very back corner, the two walls adjacent to the cell were covered in various electronics. By Shockwave's near silent hum of approval Ratchet guessed they were for various types of torture. Then he saw who, or rather what, was in the cell.
"A Psychbot!" The medic exclaimed softly, static laced in his voice from the amount of shock coursing through him. He turned around and pushed the two lumbering mech's back, calling out over comms for Soundwave and Optimus to replace them.
Psychbots were legendary on Cybertron, Transformers created as miners or communications specialists were given one special piece of equipment with heightened sensors, miners specifically to help detect things such as depth and mineral density. The second difference for the miners was that most were mass produced in a factory causing there to be assembly line glitches, Cybertronians with far more sensors than originally planned, and the worst of these were the Psychbots. Somehow, the amount of ways those factory lines could go wrong were immeasurable, an extremely small amount were created with all the high sensor equipment available to that plant. There were only two or three recorded cases but the true number was far higher than the majority of the Cybertronian population would ever know. Certain companies started to create them purposefully, mining foremechs paying more for the Psychbots as they were more efficient and easier to keep controlled. If your servo could be shattered by someone tapping the wall you were leaning against, you'd be in constant fear as well.
Ratchet had cared for many mechs and femmes that had come from the mines, illegally providing them with armour that would cover their sensors so they could have something resembling a life while in the Above States. He could see that, truly, this Psychbot was extraordinary even for its kind, most certainly larger at the very least.
Rigid spike-like sensors unfurled from its helm, in the tell tale shimmering "rainbow" colours, picking up the chemical composition in the air. Its flat peds and servos were pressed against the floor and walls behind it, impossibly thin chords emerging from them to spread out, recording the finite tremors and flexes in the metals. Sensors crept up from its peds slowly getting smaller until tapering off into lines from the knee joints up, servos were the same way starting at the elbow joints, outlining pure black armour. Its back plates were completely covered with these lines, wing like appendages peeking out from behind its curled up form, designed for proximity and communication. As a whole, a masterpiece of information gathering. | 08b4922816d042838d67de94a229b383 | ['2e533066da3c4ad19862e2f2b319a7bc'] | "I'm proud of you, my son." He spoke in Gergry. A strange language that had been the only one they had shared in common when they first met until they eventually learned each other's languages.
Ratchet stepped back so Megatron could stand. He looked down at himself and had to admit it was a beautiful job. His silver plating had stayed, but now it was accented with black, deep red, with a few light touches of shimmering gold. It was subtle, tasteful, and definitely suggestive. Oh yes, his partner would love it.
Feeling a new sense of confidence, he followed the medic out to the rec room where the party was to take place.
°~°
It was so warm, Primus was it warm. Jazz had of course outdone himself again and every mech and femmes was having the time of their lives. Megatron and Optimus had walked in together at opposite ends of the room and Ratchet had to almost push Megatron to continue moving. Optimus was stunning.
Where Megatron's colours had mostly stayed the same, Optimus was quite the opposite. His blue and red colours had been switched on his lithe frame. The blue was accented with a blue-green while the red was accented with red-orange. He as well had gold hinting here and there, but unlike Megatron, it had been used to write glyphs in the language of the Prime's.
They had started off with a slow dance, the older mechs had insisted. Half way through, however, Optimus had sent him a private comm of /their/ song which had been quickly sent to Jazz. Soon they had everyone clutching their sides and roaring at the hilarious colony dance they loved so much.
After that the two had mingled together, then separately, and now Megatron was watching his partner smiling as he danced with Jazz. The song had just changed and Arcee had raced over to him with the intention of doing a dramatic rendition of a human Tango when Ratchet called for everyone's attention at the front of the room.
"I've had 10 Cybertronians come up to me in the last 30 kliks alone asking about the time for opening the presents." Everyone laughed as ten mechs and femmes dropped their helms guiltily. "As such, I believe now is a good time to start."
Optimus came over to him and together they walked servo in servo up to the front of the room where there was a couch waiting for them. They sat down and a very human like fart sounded throughout the room. Megatron calmly got up, moved the sofa cover aside, and held up the biggest whoopee cushion they have ever seen.
"I would like to first off thank Sideswipe for his amazing gift. I have always highly admired his written signature." The dry tone and the humour everyone was now accustomed to caused the room to fill with laughter that continued for some time. During this the couple started opening the gifts from others.
The next breem went by in a blur for Megatron as he could barely hear over his pounding spark. They had just opened and finished admiring what seemed to be the last present, when there were three mechs suddenly standing next to Megatron all looking at Optimus intensely.
"We all had a part of the same gift." Megatron explained. Ratchet stepped forward and kneeled next to the Prime. Everyone around them tensed and went deathly quiet. They had all been told in the past few orns what exactly this was so they would understand what was going on. Many of them had actually cried when they had been told, Ultra Magnus and Prowl included.
"Now Optimus. I'm going to insert a code into your plating, it's going to adjust some of your systems so I want you to turn them all off for a few kliks, alright." Optimus frowned at one of his closest friends then turned the expression on Megatron.
"Good, keep facing Megatron. Just relax." The mech did as he told and Megatron took his servos in the closest thing to comfort he could give the mech. As soon as he did Optimus relaxed and started to shut down all systems so he was in a stage inbetween stasis and recharge. Ratchet quickly plugged in his medical interface cable, installed the coding, then started Optimus' reboot.
The mech slowly came back online while Megatron did his best to keep his tone neutral. The other mech looked at him in confusion, not being able to detect the erased coding until Megatron spoke.
"Optimus." He said softly. Optimus' optics went impossibly wide. He ripped his servos from Megatron's and covered his intake. His optics immediately filled with coolant and Megatron could see disbelief and pure joy in them. He slowly pulled his servos a short distance from his helm.
"Megatron?" He whispered. In. A. Shocked. Tone. There was a moment of complete stillness then everyone in the room erupted in shouts and tears of joy.
Optimus seemed to be oblivious to what was going on around him and merely stared as his partner. Then he snapped out of his daze and embraced Megatron tightly. The two stayed like that of a few kliks before Optimus pulled back. He looked up at the other two mechs then down at the mech beside him.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He looked each mech in the optics as he said this each time getting stronger as he became more confident in putting emotion into his words. He then finally turned to Megatron, optics shining. Megatron was not expecting what he heard next.
"I love you." Said in Kaonian, filled with nothing but pure love. Everyone stopped and stared as they could all understand the sentence. Optimus let out a small sob then put his servos on either side of Megatron's helm.
"I love you Megatronus." Megatron answered by pulling Optimus into a deep kiss, smiling when he heard the deep moan that came from his partner.
"I have a question to ask you." He felt confident now. Sure that this was the right time, that there couldn't be a better time for this.
"Yes?" Optimus whispered and Megatron smiled, realizing the Prime already knew what the question was.
"Will you bond with me?" He asked even quieter. It didn't matter though, the mechs at the very back of the room swore later they heard it themselves.
"Yes." Came the loud and desperate sounding answer. "Yes. Yes. Yes!" Optimus repeated looking at Megatron with more joy then anyone had ever seen in him before.
"Yes." He whispered one last time, letting out a slight laugh at the end. Megatron grinned wide and leaned forward to kiss his soon to be mate once more, and vowed silently to never let go again. |
d65858185d1d48cd974fd4d0220a3cc6 | ['2e53b98255594fcc8aeb47162fd17b9b'] | "DAD I'M HOME!" Skye yelled "TWEEK'S HERE TO GET HIS COFFEE MAKER!" "He's probably sleeping." Skye said. "Just go get the maker. It's on the counter." She dropped her school bag to the floor. Tweek went off to get the coffee maker. Skye sighed again. She walked over to the couch and flopped down. Tweek walked by with the maker. gave a quick thanks and goodbye then shut the door behind him. Once the headlights faded from the driveway. Skye walked into the kitchen and grabbed a little baggie of animal crackers and sat back down. Once she finished she went upstairs to her bed room and went over to her dresser a pulled out a pair of pajamas. She walked out of her room and peeked into her parents room. She gently opened the door. She snuck into the room and Scott was sprawled out across the bed sleeping peacefully. Skye smiled and leaned down pressing a kiss to his forehead. She turned and walked out of the room.
A sigh laced up out of her throat. She wandered down the hall back to her own room. She plugged in her phone, and laid down. She quietly fell into a long sleep. She dreamed of being a superhero and saving the town from evil. In her sleep. Skylar smiled.
2. Today We Study Hard, Tommorrow We Change The World
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The chapter in which school is hell to our darling kids, and Skylar finds out that she likes her Super Best Friend.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> WOW my second one today! I'm so into this right now!
The alarm clock buzzed and the melody of a song blared form her speakers. Skylar turned and slammed her hand onto the off button. She rolled out of her bed. She turned on her phone and opened up her music app. She selected her favorite playlist. She allowed it to shuffle. A catchy beat bounced out of her Bluetooth speaker. Skye danced around her room. She twirled over to her dresser. She fished out a pair of jeans singing along with the song
_Why me? I just wanna see! Don't you know that I'm a hip-hop queen of rock and roll dream? It's all bling bling I'm the star of the scene well check me out. See what I'm all about!_
She fished out a graphic t-shirt, humming as she pulled it on. pulling up her jeans she tied on a pair of sneakers. Her t-shirt had her favorite movie "Carrie" on it. She grabbed her hair brush and sang loudly as she brushed her curls into a ponytail.
_I'm the one that you want the can't have. The girl that you call who doesn't ever call back. Just look at me I've got everything! But then I woke up._
She fished out her makeup bag (Given to her by BeBe) and applied what she could. She smiled at herself. She grabbed he phone, and earbuds. Pulling out a hoodie with a green M on it. She pulled it over her head and smiled. She walked down stairs. Her dad wasn't up yet-Not that she was surprised-so she had to make herself breakfast as usual. She popped some pop tarts into the toaster and grabbed her school bag. She grabbed her pop tarts and exited her house. Texting her dad that she left. She ate her well deserved breakfast as she walked down to the bus stop. She met Gavriella and her older brother Seth. Candy and Gavri were talking about something as Skye walked up to her Friends smiling as she did "Hey guys!" Skye said the three hummed in reply.
"Did you study for the science test today?" Gavri asked turning to Skye and Candy. Skye's eyes widened Candy nodded
"Wait...there was a test today?" Skye said shock diming her eyes. Gavri nodded and Candy gave her a confused glance Skye facepalmed. "Shit I totally forgot. I've been taking care of my dad because he's been sick."
"Well at least its during fifth period so you'll probably have time to study during homeroom. I can take you over it if you like." Gavri smiled. Skye hummed in response and gave a nod as the bus pulled up to the stop. The kids walked to the back of the bus and sat down. The ride was filled with studying and reviewing. Once they got off Candy met up with Luna and the two walked in together. Fingers laced together, Luna pressed a small kiss to Candy's forehead. Skye sighed as she and Gavriella walked in to the large elementary school before them. They entered their home room. There Gavri took Skye over the notes again. By the fourth run through Skye knew it like the back of her hand.
"Okay class I'm going to take attendance now." The teacher said. Skye rolled her eyes. This sucked. She hated homeroom. Frankly it was boring as hell. This was the period that the teacher would drone on and on about unimportant things. It seemed to drag on forever. A note landed in the corner of her desk. She opened it and inside written in Lesley's handwriting was a note only with the words " _I'm so bored_." Skye wrote a quick " _Same_ " and handed the note off to Lesley. The two passed back and fourth for the last few minutes. The first bell scared them from their thought. "Alright your heading to first period." The teacher called. The students filed out and off to their first class Skye walked beside Gavri The two spoke with smiles and laughs. Skye felt safe around Gavri. After all they were Super Best Friends like Gavriella's fathers once were. | b33d0c3800234945906309347cbd06dc | ['2e53b98255594fcc8aeb47162fd17b9b'] | "Which one of you are the guardian of Luna Tucker?" Both Tweek and Craig nodded. The doctor nodded at them. "I have some news." Tweek gripped Craig's arm. "Your daughter has regained conciseness and is requesting your presence." Tweek and Craig shot up from their seats excitedly and dashed towards the doors. The doctor followed them. Kenny sat in the chair. He smiled as he stood up and stretched. He sat back down and let the tears flow again.
"Fuck..." Kenny whispered. He thought to himself 'Please let her live, don't let her die yet! She's so young. LET HER LIVE DAMNIT!' Kenny leaned back in his chair. "Is this what my friend's felt like for me?" He muttered to himself. Another doctor walked out of the doors.
"Are you the guardian of Maia Lynch?" The doctor asked. Kenny defeatedly shook his head. The doctor nodded and walked away. Kenny deflated back into his chair.
"Greatly I've lost everyone. First Leo and now Candy." Kenny said tearfully. As he spoke another doctor exited.
"Candy's father?" He said pointing to Kenny. Kenny nodded and stood up. "Follow me sir." The doctor said. Kenny nodded and followed the man. They arrived to Candy's hospital room. The pale looking little girl sat in the hospital bed. She looked up.
"Dad!" She said excitedly. Kenny quickly walked over to his daughter and hugged her.
"Honey I thought you were dead!" Kenny whispered to her. She squeezed him tighter. He smiled as he held her. "I love you my little Candy-Cane" Kenny said.
"Love you to dad!" Candy said smiling. She turned to one of the nurses. "Can I see Luna Tucker?" Candy asked. The nurse smiled.
"If your feeling up to it my dear." Candy nodded. The nurse signaled to other to get a wheel chair. Candy smiled. The IV and breathing tanked were pushed behind her as she rode down the hall to Luna's room. When they arrived Luna was still hugging her parent's. Candy smiled widely.
"Luna!" She said excitedly. Luna immediately released her parents. Seeing Candy made her start to cry. Candy waddled over to Luna's bed. The two embraced "Hi My star!" Candy whispered.
"Hello my love." Luna whispered. The two pressed their lips together in a quick peck. They parted and hugged again.
"Well shit." Kenny chuckled. "At least their alive." He said rolling his eyes.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> <3 Love you all! Thanks for reading :)
12. The history of those who bore us
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The kids expose their parents. (The main four, Butters, and Creek)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello, hello, hello! I have returned from the grave! This is a sad but light hearted chapter.
>
> *WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA, UNDERAGE DRINKING, DEPPRESSION, AND ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.*
A few days after Candy and Luna were allowed to leave the hospital, the kids all decided to have a slumber party. While they were all having deep conversations the subject of the adults was brought up. Each kids had something they each entrusted to be shared amongst the group. Due to it being her idea to discuss the parents' Lacey went first. She stood up and grabbed a hairbrush holding it like a microphone.
"Well my dad was a fucked up child, and everybody knows this. But as he grew it might be safe to say there was an attempt to get better. Although nobody's perfect. After he and Kyle had that huge falling out in 8th grade, I think he realized that he was truly fucked up. He begged his mother to get him therapy witch helped a little bit, but not completely. He eventually turned to taking drugs to mellow out. It only gave him an addiction and his grades going down the drain. His mother eventually grew a pair and stepped up. She sent him to rehab-the same one Tweek resided at-where he spent time detoxing and thoroughly calming down. He was in the clinic on and off for a few years but eventually they let him go. He also managed to drop some weight but only about 10 pounds. He talked to Kyle and at least salvaged a tiny piece of their friendship. But the four boys never exactly became as close again. Heidi did eventually take him back for a few years. They only lasted for about 6 years. Then Nat and I were born. The two had a nasty breakup thus pulling me and Nat apart. But we found each other. As of now my dad runs his own small company here. Were actually doing quite well." Lacey sighed. "He's just a little power hungry sometimes." Lacey sat back down and passed the brush off to Luna. "All you Lu." Luna stood. |
9a739230450f4807b393aecbe543cbb6 | ['2e57470f5dc14e0a8f11a839c0759dd8'] | Hux hadn’t touched another human being in years and not engaged anyone for sex in _forever_ , so he had long ago turned to porn to vent some of his frustrations, only to come up even more frustrated. Anything acceptable to him, as a homosexual male, was between two betas, since alphas and omegas were normally straight. Except beta sex rarely had the … _dynamic_ he was looking for.
Simply put, it was too soft for him.
Maybe his preferences were something that people simply did not care to video much of? That or Hux was just a hopeless freak of nature.
Fortunately he had found a small niche long ago and now an innocuous folder hidden in a random location on his computer held a small amount of juicy videos that Hux turned to whenever he got truly desperate. He double clicked the chosen video, knowing once he started there would be no stopping. This was a good one and Hux knew he’d be a slavering mess once it finished it’s grand twenty-two minutes of torture.
This little horny morsel of fun was one of the precious few videos he had found with an actual alpha, proven genuine by the knot that Hux knew stuck hard within the alpha’s sexual partner around the nineteen minute mark.
It did not matter that the other man in the video was a beta, Hux liked to pretend otherwise.
True alpha and omega porn was damned near impossible to find. Alphas were extremely territorial about their bond mates, so everything he had come across was just people pretending to be what they were not and Hux had enough of that bullshit to deal with on his own.
_“Hand me your belt.”_ A commanding voice echoed from the laptop speakers. The camera was focused on a slim man in his mid twenties, beta, blonde with round eyes. Hux slipped his own belt off as the man on the screen did the same.
_“Strip.”_ The alpha behind the camera was commanding, but not degrading. His partner trusted him as he handed over the belt and then stripped his clothes. _“Now on the bed.”_
The blonde made to lay on his back, but the alpha was quick to correct him.
_“No, you know what I want.”_
Hux watched as the beta’s mouth opened slightly in protest, knowing one of his favorite parts was coming up. He pulled his half hard member out from his now unbuttoned pants, letting it flop upwards towards his stomach.
_“But I want to see yo-“_ Blondie sounded genuine, if a little pathetic.
_“Did I give you permission to speak?”_ The alpha filming did not hide the displeasure from his voice when he cut the other man off.
This part always confused Hux. He liked telling people what to do, manipulating them to his will. However, on the rare occasion when he was truly honest with himself, he knew that in that bedroom, being told what to do excited him more than anything else. At the alpha’s correction, blood flushed downwards to pool warmly in his belly. He was rapidly getting hard.
Why did that little statement get to him so much?
The naked blond flipped onto his stomach, resting heavily on his hands and knees. The prone position made Hux pant a little. He knew that the alpha was now setting up the camera on some sort of dresser or tripod because the camera became stationary, so he took the chance to slip his pants farther down to stop them from digging into his hips and balls. Hux made sure to pay careful attention though when the alpha stepped into the frame, still fully clothed, and used the belt to bind the beta’s wrists together tightly.
_“Good boy.”_ The alpha cooed slightly. Hux leaned back, relaxing, as if the praise had been meant for him. He took himself in hand and harshly thumbed over the sensitive head. Depending on his mood, Hux sometimes skipped the next portion, but today he felt like watching as the larger man settled behind his partner and starting preparing him. It didn’t take long watching the alpha’s fingers slipping in and out, carefully coating the blonde’s unseen hole with generous amounts of lube, for Hux to start leaking all over his hand. He was hard and throbbing.
It was the filthy talk that got him though.
_“Are you going to come from just my hand?” “So greedy.” “Don’t worry, pet, I’ll let you finish if you’re good.” “Let me know when you’re close.” “I’ll take care of you.”_
The blond was full on whimpering now, thrusting himself backwards. Finally he resorted to begging. Hux felt like begging too, even though he was no where near finishing yet himself.
_“Please, Master. May I- aaahhh…finish? Please, please, please….”_
Another complicated part for Hux to try and understand. He could never figure out if he approved of the whole ‘ _Master_ ’ title or not. Seemed a little bit dramatic to tell the truth. It was especially confusing when he realized he did not know if he would like being _called_ Master…. or saying it to someone else.
_“Come for me.”_
Sometimes that was enough for Hux, it certainly was for the blonde as he shot his load all over the sheets beneath him. Today though, Hux simply leaned back in his chair, his head lulling backwards over the top of it to fully bare his neck in open surrender, something he never ever did in public. His hand pumped furiously at his member, his breathe was getting out of control again.
He closed his eyes, listening closely to the rustling of clothes on the screen as the alpha undressed. Then there was moaning and a vulgar wet slapping sound that Hux quickly fell into rhythm with. His hips thrust in time with the brutal pace. | 9593df9dd8354b5ea5c297d704022798 | ['2e57470f5dc14e0a8f11a839c0759dd8'] | Beck finally comes back to himself and pulls out, only to immediately press back in. It’s so overwhelming that he knows he won’t last long. Already the heated pressure at the base of his cock is becoming damn near unbearable. Everything is becoming smaller, nothing mattering except the place where the two of them are connected. Beck is breathing like a winded bull, huffing great gusts of sweaty air into Peter’s neck, and Peter is just making this faint broken squeak with every thrust.
Something seems to come to Peter though because he uses his free hand to push hard against Beck’s chest, forcing him upwards. Beck’s heart skips a few beats. A single shove at full strength from Peter could send him flying. Beck knows this. Peter’s a broken man though, Beck can tell. There is no heat to the frantic action; it’s just the instinctual panic of a scared animal, a need for space, for grounding.
Beck smiles.
With full confidence in the outcome, Beck carefully, almost slowly, curls his own fingers around Peter’s wrist like a clamp.
“Please…” Peter whispers. He begins to shake his head desperately as Beck peels Peter’s fingers away only to shove the younger man’s once free hand down into the car’s faded backseat, joining the wrist already pinned there above Peter’s head. To make his point, and maybe just to be dick, Beck gives a particularly forceful shove, slapping his balls on Peter’s now pink-flushed ass.
Peter cries out, a broken sound that triggers all Beck’s predatory tendencies, and then seems to deflate inward. There is a far away look clouding his eyes.
“Oh no,” Beck bites out between clenched teeth, “You’re staying with me kid.”
His thrusts are becoming more frantic and irregular, pumping in a brutally uncontrollable pace. This will all be over soon. Peter’s own cock might still be soft and uninterested, but Beck’s is leaking eagerly, pulsing in anticipation. Beck has already made up his mind that he is going to cum as deep inside the superhero beneath him as he can.
Peter is going to never forget what it feels like. Beck’ll make sure of it.
To keep Peter here with him, Beck crosses that line he originally thought was between the two of them. Leaning forward, he presses his lips against Peter’s, demanding entrance so he can swirl his tongue downward to claim anything and everything Peter might try to keep untainted. Unsurprisingly, little resistance is offered on Peter’s part. In frustration, Beck’s tongue fuckery soon escalates into full on bites, on Peter’s lips, along the line of his jaw. Beck is pretty sure that Peter’s bottom lip is now bleeding and it just eggs Beck on even further.
Beck wants to mark Peter permanently. Since he can’t exactly do that midsex, he settles to make a line of violent hickies down Peter’s slim throat.
And then finally, when the pressure has built up too much, when everything just seems to be fire and tunnel vision, Beck shoves home one last time, impossibly deep, both of their thighs slammed together to become one. As he crests, orgasm ripping into him like a damn grenade thrown at his chest, Beck bites viciously into Peter’s collar bone, hard enough that the skin breaks and blood floods into his mouth.
Beck actually loves the copper tang coating his tongue.
Ok, so maybe a little bloodsport is fine.
Gasping for air, Beck realizes he has his full weight pressing Peter into the car’s upholstery. It’s impossible to tell which parts are Beck and which parts are Peter. Their damp, heaving chests are pressed together, slipping against each other. The kid has turned his head to the side and Beck can see the redness, the tears. Peter shakes under him and there is no mistaking the motion as silent crying.
“Don’t cry, Peter,” Beck demands, his floaty feeling already ebbing away sooner than he wants it to, “Don’t ruin this moment for me.”
Peter whips his head to look up at Beck furiously, but the moment their eyes meet, Peter deflates again. Stupid little brat looks like he’s only twelves years old and so, _so_ lost. Everything about him screams….
“Are you a virgin?” Beck smirks as the words leave his mouth. He can feel his cock slowly shrinking, still stuffed far up Peter’s ass. “Well, _were_ you a virgin?”
Peter looks away again, closing his eyes as fresh tears roll down his checks in wet, sloppy lines. That’s all the answer Beck needs. He lets out a little laugh before pulling out, using the still open car door to steady himself as he stands at the car’s side. His legs have gone all jello like in only a way good sex can make them.
“Don’t worry, kid,” He says while tucking himself back into his boxers. Reaching in to grab one of Peter’s biceps, Beck yanks him out as well, once again marveling at how light and small the kid is. “There will be others.”
Peter has a much harder time standing than Beck does, he seems to want to keep his legs partially spread due to how raw and pink the insides of his thighs are. And Beck thinks he sees a few smears of blood. Captain America boxers still wrapped around Peter’s thighs, Beck marches him over to one of the piles of gravel and trash and shoves the superhero as hard as he can, adding him to the heap.
Beck is about to leave, just walk away without any further interaction, but he then turns and looks back at the broken man hunched among the bare and forgotten landscape. Peter isn’t looking at him, so Beck takes just a single step forward. Peter jumps, eyes wild, resembling some spooked, feral creature.
Beck almost feels bad as their eyes finally meet.
Almost.
“Come near me again,” Beck warns quietly, “And I’ll do this again…. And again… and _again_.” |
b220f66d9ebc4729a024a4379627c051 | ['2e99db7238fc4a3eb8935edd7a0fea04'] | She grabbed her station-issue shotgun from beside the front seat and got out, loading a shell into the chamber with a deafening slide and _thunk_ of metal. She snarled deep in her chest and listened first, but there was nothing. No crunch of ice and snow, no rapid breathing, no guns ratcheting or clicking or anything at all. She could smell Dolls, though. Sulfur and gasoline, and a lot of it, too. And Doc Holliday. Leather and whiskey and gunpowder. She took a deep breath, smelled the blood on the snow. And inside, too, she caught the piss-and-blood stink of a corpse.
Well. Shit.
She avoided walking through the wet streaks of blood in front of the door, but noted that the handprints smeared all over seemed to be moving away from the bar, rather than toward it. Someone crawling out of the place? And recently, too, it still hadn’t dried.
Haught pressed her shoulder to the front door, swinging it slowly open and leading with the muzzle of her shotgun. The place looked clear and she scanned a second time, letting her vision tint gold to borrow the wolf’s senses. She heard muffled sobbing. That would be Waverly. Now with the door open she could smell Waverly too. Sticky, cold, rancid fear. Underneath the fear and blood was the smells of the bar: coffee, beer, pickles and steak sandwiches. Not nearly enough to cover up the sickly sweet stench of death.
“Ms. Gibson?” she called, keeping her voice quiet as she moved past the entryway. Just ahead, under the bar, Waverly was sitting about five feet away from... Jesus. Doc Holliday’s cooling corpse. It had only been what, a few hours, since Haught had kicked him into BBD’s containment chamber. How had he gotten free? More importantly, how the hell had he gotten _dead?_
Waverly was conspicuously unmarked with blood, but she’d changed clothes since Haught had seen her last, abandoning the jeans and shirt for an elegant white dress and a crown of pink flowers. She’d wrapped her arms around her knees and ducked her face, and was just sitting there on the bloodstained ground in her clean white dress, weeping.
Haught smelled gunpowder and smoke and scanned the room one more time. There was a huge pool of blood in the entryway, and it smelled like the gun had been fired here, right where she was. That might explain why Waverly was clean, even assuming she was the one who fired the gun, but what the hell had happened here?
“Jesus, Waverly,” she muttered, but as she moved forward to go to Waverly she saw Holliday’s face, twisted and pale and blind-eyed in death. She froze, her chest going tight and cold. Her wolf howled, a long, low mourning call full of so much sorrow and loss that her eyes burned with tears.
What the hell was wrong with her? If Doc Holliday was dead, that was a _good_ thing.
Wasn’t it?
Haught forced her body to obey and slid the strap of her shotgun over her shoulder. She gathered up Waverly in her arms, scooping her up off the floor like a child until Waverly was standing on her feet. Haught walked her a few steps away and turned, putting Waverly’s back to the body.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Waverly said, and her eyes found Haught’s face, but in a sort of haphazard, unfocused way. Still in shock, maybe. “God, he just—I was in the basement, and I just. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. The man in the asylum said, said I was supposed to find Wynonna. He called me his angel. Like Mama used to. I came here to look at her stuff and—”
_Wynonna._ Why did that name sound familiar? Her wolf was suddenly at attention, ears forward, tail stiff with tension and anticipation, and Haught didn’t know why.
“Asylum? Waverly, what asylum?”
She shook her head, dragging in a deep breath. “It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. I heard someone up here, so I came up with my gun and—and it was Holliday, only he was. He was _glad_ to see me?” she said, so confused and lost that Haught reached out and stroked a thumb down her cheek. Waverly leaned into it, just for a moment, her eyes slipping shut in relief. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that.”
“He said the same thing as the man in the asylum,” she whispered, meeting Haught’s eyes with her own still shining and wet with tears. “He said I have to find Wynonna.”
“Waverly,” she said, frowning. “Who’s Wynonna?”
She sobbed, clinging onto Haught’s sleeves and bending forward, as if the weight of it all was sitting on her as a physical burden. “I don’t know, _god,_ I don’t know...”
Haught inhaled, trying to think even as the wolf pushed and _pushed_ at her to hold Waverly tight and never let go. Haught tried not to listen to that—as much as she wanted to do exactly what the wolf was asking for—and looked toward the body. “Single bullet wound,” she muttered aloud, and glanced toward the bar, where Waverly’s shotgun was sitting on the polished wood.
“I didn’t—”
“I know,” she murmured. “I know. Did you see who shot him?”
“Dolls,” Waverly whispered. “Dolls came. Holliday tried to talk him down, but Dolls wouldn’t listen. Holliday said they were friends. And he. He _knew_ things about Dolls. I think. I think he was telling the truth. He shot Dolls, but. Just in the shoulder, I guess. But Dolls shot Holliday when he bent down.” | c87fc9105c8c461da244c53b37dda011 | ['2e99db7238fc4a3eb8935edd7a0fea04'] | The wolf growled and she knew she was on borrowed time. Pretty soon, she was gonna have to make this a proper compromise. Still, for now the fur faded back into her skin and she took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart rate down from where the adrenaline still had it jacked up to an unreasonable speed.
“S’all good,” Dolls said, but he sounded like he was fading again. “We just gotta keep chill, okay? The demon. He’s got a daughter. Some girl named Poppy.” He yawned. “Tucker grabbed her and is probably getting his perv on as we speak. We gotta get the girl back safe or he won’t undo the spell.”
“Okay,” she growled, skidding again as she pulled into the driveway, blocking the way out in case Tucker tried to take his car out the main gate, though she didn’t see where he might’ve parked it. She leapt from the car and drew her pistol while Dolls followed, stumbling once in the snow. He was a couple steps behind her as she headed in through the side door.
“Shit,” he muttered, staggering against the doorway where it led into the front hall. “Sorry...”
From upstairs someone—a young woman by the sound of it—screamed. _“Help!”_
“Ohhh,” Nicole snarled, “He is _not_ in her room!”
“Go,” Dolls said, waving her toward the stairs and collapsing onto a bench. “Go!”
She ran up the stairs for the second time in a single day, and when she got to the doorway she saw Tucker toss aside the top of Waverly’s cheerleading uniform, leaning into the woman’s personal space. Poppy, she reminded herself.
“I don’t– I don’t want to,” she said, as he reached for her arm.
“Hands on your head!” Nicole roared, _“Now!”_
He spun, yanking Poppy in front of him as a human shield, and brought a steel blade up to her throat.
Nicole struggled to keep her teeth the right size and stepped fully into the room, pistol trained on him, all too aware that Poppy was directly in her line of fire.
“You hurt her, it’s all over, man. It’s not just a couple upskirts. You do _not_ want to cross that line.”
“Everyone keeps talking to me like I’m an idiot,” he said. He looked at her, tilting his head slightly like a dog, his voice disturbingly even. Light. As if he had no real emotional connection to what he was doing. “Those hags, this one here. You. I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”
Nicole’s attention tracked to Poppy. She expected meek. She expected a quailing captive. But Poppy met her gaze with fire and defiance, and she shifted, holding her hand a little differently. Nicole’s eye flicked down, noting the hairbrush she was still clutching, and in particular its sharp, pointed end. She knew that brush. She on multiple occasions had joked with Waverly that if she ever found a dead man on the Earp property who didn’t have a pair of scissors jammed into his brain, she’d look for that brush first as a proposed murder weapon.
Nicole looked back up at Tucker, her mouth twisting into a smile that she hoped was just mocking enough to make him even angrier.
“Too bad you’re not gonna get it.”
Poppy jammed the sharp end of the brush handle into his thigh and he flinched, yanking his arm away from her to step back. She dove toward the bed and Nicole fired before Tucker could react, his shoulder jerking as the round slammed through his body, spraying blood over the wallpaper.
He stared at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses, his voice raw with pain and surprise.
“You _shot_ me, you bitch!”
“Drop the knife or I’ll do it again!” she shouted, and he let the blade drop from his fingers with a dull _thunk_.
“I did something else,” he said, taking half a step closer. She kept her pistol trained, but resisted the urge to fire again, for all that the wolf was howling for blood. “They’ll kill me for it.”
She growled, the sound low in her chest, and kept her mouth shut, forcing the wolf down before she could show fangs in front of Poppy. Who, while allegedly the daughter of a demon, really didn’t need to know that part of local law enforcement was a werewolf.
Instead of taking another step forward Tucker spun around and dove for the window, flinging himself outside with a hoarse shout and a crash of shattering glass.
“Tucker!” Nicole bellowed, but did not pursue him. For a moment she simply stood in place, listening to pieces of glass dropping out of the frame, waiting in case he had hit the awning and reversed course. She heard him hit the snow and take off running, and when she was satisfied that he was out of range to change his mind and come back, she stepped forward, holstering her pistol. She could always pick up the scent later. He might come back to recover his car, but she could work with that. Especially with so few cars on the road today, it would be easier. She took hold of Poppy’s shoulders and started guiding her toward the door. “Let’s get you home to your dad, okay?”
She bundled Poppy into the front seat and stashed Dolls in the back, and as she headed back toward town she picked up her radio again.
“Wynonna? This is Nicole. I have Poppy.”
_“Make it quick,”_ Wynonna said, and there was a pause a second too long, as if Wynonna was consciously reminding herself not to use some canine nickname. _“I’m almost to Shorty’s.”_
“I’ve got Poppy and Dolls in my cruiser. I’ll drop them at BBD for safety and meet you later at the Homestead. Got some cleanup to do.”
There was a short pause. _“Do I want to know?”_
“Not when I’ve got a minor in the car, no.” |
6958a0e3c6a54e9daea589fc90b60db2 | ['2ede43e0681c46a389c9fa89b9378a3b'] | Fighting Against Nature Itself
**Author's Note:**
* Translation into Русский available: LINK by LINK
> Being asexual myself, I have found that it can be difficult in forming romantic relationships with a person that is not asexual. There are a lot of adjustments to be made in order for the relationship to work out. It's not impossible, just...difficult at times. Some asexual people can get sexually aroused and all sorts of other stuff, however, when I was writing this (at 6 in the morning after an all nighter) I was of the mindset that Sherlock would be an asexual person that does NOT experience arousal. Anyway...uhm, here you are. My first forays into the wonderful world of Sherlock fanfiction. If it can even be called that. Uh, s'not very good. And it's very short. With a crappy title. My deepest apologies. I might come back and edit it...Or add more. Who knows. Dunno what else to say...enjoy?
* * *
Sherlock tries for John.
He really does and that is saying something because Sherlock has never in his life **tried** to make someone happy, give them what they want. He has always done what he wants with no thought of consequence to others. They did not matter and so he did not give them a second thought. But John...John matters. John is different. He makes Sherlock want to be a better man, putting other's desires and needs above his own.
He knows it is illogical to be apprehensive of acts such as physical intimacy. However, knowing something and accepting it are two completely different things. Sherlock cannot help it. He tries so hard over and over but in the end, it is not enough. He is incapable of overcoming his worst enemy: himself. He cannot give John what he wants. It is moments like this that Sherlock truly hates himself.
John wants more. Sherlock is content with what they have. Happy one might even say. Though in the back of his mind, he knows their relationship is not what _normal_ people typically have. And John is not like him. He does not function like Sherlock. He wants things that Sherlock never even entertained ideas of.
He tries so hard to fight himself and his nature, just to see John smile.
He never wins. | d6c46394935e46868f07e00db245e335 | ['2ede43e0681c46a389c9fa89b9378a3b'] | Magic Can Be Beautiful
**Author's Note:**
> This came out of no where and I do apologize if it isn't very good. This is my first, and probably last, time writing Dragon Age fanfiction. I do have an urge to turn this into a full-fledged chaptered fanfic though I don't think I exactly have the skills for it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this. It is subject to editing. It is, currently, un-betaed.
**
**0000** **
"Magic can be beautiful," Garrett murmured, his voice a husky timbre. His large hands cupped the slight elf's own pair while fingers caressed thin digits. "You just have to know where to look."
The mage wanted above all else to prove Fenris wrong, show him that his gift wasn't a terrible curse that only produced misery and pain. The ex-slave had gone throughout his entire life being subjected to the darker parts of magic. He was ignorant to the fact that there was a whole new, pure world of magic out there just waiting to be discovered. Now, it was Garrett's turn to show him a secret world that would be all their own. His chance to prove that not all magic was corrupt had finally come and after so long, he was most assuredly not going to squander it.
Reaching deep within his core with the ease one picked up from years of practice, Garrett found the glowing magical essence that burned at the center of his being like a contained ball of wildfire. An unconscious smile fluttered across his lips as he let the feelings of warmth and belonging envelope his body. Sometimes, deep in the night when he began to think of his dear mother and her smiling eyes, he just basked within his magic's warming glow. It was forever a constant in his life and had become something of an old friend that comforted him gently in his hour of need.
The mage exhaled softly before he ignited his magic and pulled that warm glow from deep within to the forefront. He concentrated the magic into the palms of his hands and began to send waves into Fenris' own at a sedate pace so as to not alarm the other male. Any type of magic made the elf wary and Garrett didn't want this experience to end on a sour note. This moment was supposed to be happy and awe-inspiring.
An iridescent, icy blue glow crept over both of their hands until they were completely encased. The elf had tensed and looked at his hands with suspicion, though he made no move to remove himself from Garrett's hold. After some odd amount of minutes in which the strings of pure magic bound them together, the brilliance began to died away until it completely faded. Garrett's hands slipped from Fenris' and he stepped back a pace. His whiskey coloured eyes were bright and excited as he gazed at the smaller male.
"Go on, open your palms."
Fenris glanced from Hawke to his hands and hesitantly complied. His heart thumped against his rib cage like a frantic hummingbird. He was, admittedly, nervous and suspicious of what he would find within his hands but at the same time a strange sense of excitement washed over him. He couldn't explain it. Never in a million years would he, an ex-slave that belonged to a cruel and tyrannous Magister, be curious to see a product of magic. However, he knew Hawke. And the mage would never do something that would potentially injure him. But the constant niggling memories that were comprised of Danarius and the thick, tar like feel of his poisonous magic sliding over his skin like a snake clawed away at his faith with sharpened talons.
In the end, his trust in Hawke overcame the oppressive memories of his former Master and he shoved them back into the little black box within his head. He would not taint his image of Garrett with the vulgarity that was Danarius. They were nothing alike and Fenris refused to allow the old man to corrupt the happiness he had found with the male in front of him. This was a battle the Magister would not win.
When Fenris' hands completely separated from Garrett's, his breath caught and he was unable to think let alone speak. Cradled within the middle of his palms was a delicate rose made of pure ice. It was crystalline; fragile and the light caught it so that it sparked and gleamed like glass. The pounding in his chest became erratic and warmth spread over his entire body. It was simply...He had never seen magic create something so breathtakingly beautiful before.
"See?" Garrett asked. A crooked, boyish grin wormed its way across his tanned face and crinkled the corners of his eyes. An indescribable happiness welled within his chest. "You just have to know where to look." |
0d6be8dc135d49809282a0433bff4761 | ['2f065cf0fe7f458bbc76e5018e7ac2b5'] | Carter, who had taken last watch, walked over to greet him.
"Gerald says we're not far off now. An hour and a half tops."
"It will be good to settle down for a bit," Ludwig said, although he was still a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. Not so much about who would be living there as to what they would do after they departed. "The weather has cleared."
The sun had made an appearance for the first time in days, casting a hue over the snow that made the land too bright to look at for a long period of time. The clouds were clearing and their bad luck seemed to be as well. Despite the chill, Ludwig felt the warmth of the sun on his face—something he hadn't realized he'd missed until then.
"Will there be room for us there?"
"If there isn't, we'll make some," Carter assured him before turning to walk off.
Ludwig grabbed him by the shoulder. "Carter."
The boy stiffened at his strong grip. "Yes, sir?"
"You're a smart kid. You have to know that what happened to your friends is not your fault."
Carter winced. "Is it that obvious?" His voice was barely a whisper. When Ludwig only stared, Carter shook his head. "Everyone I've met has seemed braver than me. Even Nate calls me chickenshit. And he's younger than I am."
"You're not," Ludwig said. It was like reassuring a smarter Feliciano… if Feliciano was Asian and wore glasses and wasn't a country or his lov—okay, so this guy had nothing really in common with Feliciano, but whatever. Close enough. "Bravery is nothing but adrenaline and instinct. It has nothing to do with your conscience."
Carter laughed. "Now you sound like my old man. He worked on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier, guiding planes to land and take off. After my brother went into the air force, I was expected to follow. It's family tradition, after all." He glanced at Ludwig. "But I didn't want to be just another statistic. I'm not good at leading. When I told Dad I wanted to fiddle around with computers my whole life, he practically blew up. I had to work three jobs in high school to fund my tuition, but then I got a scholarship to UCLA and… I was elated. If it wasn't for my mom, though, I would've been kicked out of the house. But you know what? I set a goal for myself. I was gonna prove to my dad that I could be just as good as my brother. One day, he'd have a problem with his hard drive or get a virus or just _something_ and then he'd realize…" Carter blushed and shook his head. "Sorry, now I'm just ranting. Besides, they're gone. I haven't heard that they are, but I just know…" Carter sniffed and coughed. "Anyway, thanks for listening. Beats being jeered at by that delinquent brat…"
"Not a problem," Ludwig said, releasing him. "If we can get this shit cleaned up, you'll go somewhere."
Carter looked a bit meek. "Thanks." And he left to rejoin his own group.
* * *
It took a shorter time than usual to pack up all their things and jam them into the vehicles. Of course Ivan didn't participate when it came to that. Alfred made sure to watch him closely so that he didn't get the idea in his head. But something drew his attention away.
"Artie," Alfred said with a smirk. "You're limping."
Arthur stopped, stiffening, and turned around, fixing him with a glare. "So? You have one as well, but you don't see me commenting on it."
Alfred blushed a bit. "Yeah, but I have an excuse."
Arthur scoffed. "I could _hear_ your 'excuse' all the way across camp last night. Haven't I told you already to be quieter?"
Alfred cleared his throat, trying to draw attention away from his glowing face. "Well, you're just boring."
Arthur gave him a withering look. "I didn't get laid last night, you twit," he deadpanned.
"Huh? Then why are you limping?"
"Bruises. We all have bruises, don't we? Damn, I didn't know I needed to check in with you every time I get so much as a bloody scratch."
"That's a big bruise for you to be limping like that. You couldn't have gotten that by not doing something dangerous."
"I _haven't_ done anything dangerous!" Arthur snapped, irritated, and he hoped the dimwit was still dimwitted enough to be oblivious to the fact that Arthur was lying through his teeth. Ever since that little fall he had by the tractor out in Wyoming, he'd been having to cope with a great bruise going all the way from his thigh to his inner knee. Courtesy of the rocky lip of the ravine he nearly fell into. Francis worried, sure, but he didn't need another mother hen on his tail.
Alfred threw his hands up defensively. "Whoa, there, bro. I'm real sorry you didn't get some ass last night, but that's no reason to be all bitchy."
Arthur glowered. "I'll be bitchy if I want. May I remind you that you don't have two burnt, useless stumps for hands."
"Artie, I'm gonna have a look at that when we get to that house," Alfred said firmly and when Arthur opened his mouth to protest, Alfred snapped, "Do it, or I'll slice up your pants while you're sleeping to look at it. Either way."
Arthur fumed and then, suddenly, he composed himself. "Fine," he said, as if he was above it all. "But the next time I hear you two going at it, I'll wake everyone else so they can hear it as well." And he marched off.
Alfred blinked, staring after him in shock. He wouldn't possibly? No… "Heheh," Ivan chuckled, walking up beside him. "I wouldn't mind an audience~"
Alfred shoved him. "Shut up, you pervert."
"You say that now, but who was the little slut last night~?" | bcd1621b079645b78293be4cfc0579ca | ['2f065cf0fe7f458bbc76e5018e7ac2b5'] | Alfred huffed in defeat and turned over so that his back was to Ivan. "You don't love me, you liar," he pouted.
Ivan shifted until he had his bare chest pressed against Alfred's back and had an arm looped around his middle. Alfred gave a surprised yelp as Ivan pulled his lover close to him. "Do not be so melodramatic. We both know that we're tired. Apparently you need someone to watch over you like a puppy to make sure you perform basic biological functions—like sleeping."
"Nuh uh. After Artie left me, I was perfectly fine!"
"Alfred, I do not want to start this argument. I know that you want to be held, so now that I am holding you will you shut up and go to sleep?"
Alfred didn't know how to reply, so he just huffed again, though he pressed further back into Ivan and placed his hand over the Russian's, which was holding him around the belly.
"Am I really that easy to read?"
"You are transparent," Ivan told him wearily. His nose was in the nape of Alfred's neck, ensconcing it in warmth. "Now sleep."
And Alfred did.
* * *
Translations:
Ficken-Fuck
Ich liebe dich-I love you
References:
(1) Refers to the Roman myth of the twin brothers Romulus and Remus who were born to Rhea Silvia, daughter to the king of Alba Longa. Before their birth, the throne was usurped by the king's brother Amulius, who then kills all of his male heirs and forces Rhea Silvia into a life of chastity as a Vestal Virgin. However, the war god Mars visits her and she conceives. When Amulius discovers her pregnancy, he awaits the twins' birth and then orders one of his servants to drown them. But the servant cannot bring himself to, and instead puts the twins in a basket and lets them float downstream. Tiberinus, a river god, discovers the basket and allows it to catch on foliage. A she-wolf visiting the river sees the infants and carries them off, suckling them while a woodpecker fed them. Eventually a shepherd and his wife find the boys and raise them as their own. When the boys are grown, they become shepherds themselves and Remus encounters some of Amulius's shepherds, getting into conflict with them. They capture him and take him before Amulius who discovers his identity but is smote down by Romulus who brought a band of friends to rescue his brother. In return, they were both offered the throne, but they refused and restored the previous king to it. Then they head off to found a city of their own but could not agree on a location. Romulus wanted to build it on Palatine Hill, but Remus preferred Aventine Hill. They asked the gods for their opinion and they favored Romulus, but Remus built his city on his chosen hill anyway. They both began construction, and Remus began to make fun of Romulus's wall. He leapt over it to show that it is not nearly high enough to keep invaders out, but is promptly killed by his brother. Romulus states that whoever leaps the wall of his city will suffer the same fate, and with regret he buries his brother. And thus the city of Rome was born under Romulus's rule.
A Word From the Writer: D'awww, cute. Russia is a little passive-aggressive with fluff when he's tired. And then you got a nice little Prumano lemon going on. I kinda got caught up in writing lemon around this point, people. I just had to purge it out of my system before the actual sad and killing and violence stuffs. By the way, I should have said this before but I totally predicted Prince George's gender a million chapters ago. I think it was in the chapter 'Scars.' I know it's not really impressive (honestly it was just a lucky guess), but I had a feeling. His christening reminded me, lol.
Anywho, chaos is coming. And so is death. SOON.
69. Sharing the Love
**Turkey-more corny than horny. HURR.
**
Warning: Fluff, TurCan, RusAme, Prumano, Nichu, GerIta, FrUK.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though
* * *
**Sharing the Love
**
The next morning dawned with unusual brightness. Matthew opened his eyes and within moments he knew why and smiled.
"It snowed."
" _Great_ ," Sadiq mumbled beside him, making Matthew jump. "How fucking convenient."
"Oh, come on. It's just snow!"
"As if we haven't got enough things stacked against us," Sadiq grumbled and sat up, shivering. His hood had been draped over his eyes for the entire night and now he pulled his overcoat on, hiding his face as he did so. Matthew chuckled.
"What?"
"You really are serious about that mask thing."
"Yeah," Sadiq said, not really knowing why himself. He'd have to investigate that. "I just like having my face covered."
Matthew wriggled out of the sleeping bag, naked. Sadiq nearly exposed all his face by looking up to study him, then quickly remembered himself. Even so, he couldn't pull his gaze away. "You really are beautiful. I hope you know that."
Matthew looked at him and blushed. "Uh… yeah, thanks. But I can't wait to see you. You're probably hiding a lot more than everyone thinks under that hood."
"Or maybe I'm just the Phantom of the Opera under here," Sadiq joked. "You never know."
Matthew giggled. "I doubt that." He leaned in to kiss him, and Sadiq quickly captured his lips. Sadiq ended the kiss sooner than Matthew would have liked and pulled their sleeping bag around his naked form. |
60ce99b7372e49128d92d6814182328e | ['2f29f0ad2fff4de4943f8b437c9c3296'] | The other two were left speechless and a bit embarrassed to be caught. "Well...I'm glad they didn't come in a few minutes later", Hansol stated. "Yeah...but I guess the others are back...", Soonyoung said and lay down next to Hansol again. Now that the heat of the moment feeling was gone, it was kind of awkward in the room.
"I'm sorry..." "I like you", Soonyoung and Hansol spoke up at the same time. "So...would you have regretted this if...", Soonyoung trailed off again. There was a pause. "No...I was gonna say that I didn't come here with the intention to get laid...but since I like you too I kinda...wouldn't have minded", Hansol explained. He felt his face heat up again.
Soonyoung smiled. "Do you think they'll tell the others?" he asked, referring to Chan and Minghao. "You bet they will", Hansol replied, not sure if he should be amused or embarrassed.
"Is that okay for you?" Soonyoung asked. Hansol looked back at him. "That depends on what exactly we are", he said. "I mean...we obviously like each other but we just almost had sex without knowing that fact...like, what would that make us?" he asked.
Hansol hoped that this incident wouldn't ruin whatever he and Soonyoung had. He had been aware that he liked the older and it made him happy that they both felt that way. But it took more than mutual feelings for them to work out.
"Well...you could go out with me and we'll see what happens", Soonyoung suggested. Hansol smiled. "Okay. Let's-"
"KWON SOONYOUNG! KEEP YOUR NAUGHTY HANDS TO YOURSELF YOU HORNY LITTLE SHIT! HANSOL IS STILL MY BABY!" they heard Jeonghan yell. It sounded like he was on the way to Soonyoung's room.
They gave each other a panicked look before they grabbed their discarded shirts and put them on. Hansol finished to button up just in time before their hyung entered the room.
"Can't I leave you guys home alone for half an hour? Come on, Hansol! You're helping me prepare dinner!" he said and grabbed the younger's wrist. "But-" "No butts, young man! Same goes for you, Kwon Soonyoung! Hands off!" Jeonghan warned. "I'm 18!" Hansol protested. "Exactly", Jeonghan said and dragged him out of the room.
Soonyoung chuckled. He knew that Jeonghan wouldn't keep being like this. He was acting like an annoying mom to mess with Hansol and inside he was actually shipping them like crazy.
And he was right - later that evening Jeonghan pulled Soonyoung aside. "It's about time for you two. But if you hurt him I'm going to cut your dick off!" he warned. Soonyoung smiled and nodded. "I won't hurt him. Don't worry." | 57855bd213ea45bbb90efb9d61517f81 | ['2f29f0ad2fff4de4943f8b437c9c3296'] | "It's not? Well, I guess you didn't notice then! Every time we tried to be alone he showed up and you only focused on comforting his whiny ass!" he snapped and crossed his arms over his chest. Soonyoung was getting angrier by the second. His boyfriend's words hit him hard.
"Excuse me, but Mingyu is my friend! You're just being a child again!" Soonyoung knew he shouldn't have said that because he knew how much Hansol hated it and because of how insecure it made him. But he was just so enraged by his accusations that he didn't care at this point.
"Oh...in that case I'm just gonna let the _adults_ 'talk' some more while I play with someone my age!" Hansol said. He stormed off, slamming the door and made his way back home. He knew it. He should have done something to show Mingyu that _he_ was Soonyoung's boyfriend. How could he have just watched this get out of hand?
Or maybe...maybe he never even stood a chance against Mingyu. Maybe this had been going on for longer than he'd known. Maybe last night wasn't the first time they'd stayed up late to 'talk'. They were just talking, alright. What the hell did they take him for?
Hansol took out his phone and dialled Wonwoo's number. "Hey...do you want to hang out? Last time was cut a bit short", he asked. "Alright. Do you want me to come over?" came Wonwoo's deep voice from the other side of the line. "Yeah, let's say twenty minutes?" Hansol suggested. "Okay, sure, see you then", Wonwoo said before they hung up.
When he came home his brother and Jihoon weren't there. He checked his phone and noticed a missed call from Soonyoung and a text message he decided not to read. He threw his phone on the couch and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He still couldn't believe what he and Soonyoung had become. What were they right now?
Hansol knew that he still loved him. But at the same time he was so angry at him. What if he liked Mingyu now? What if he lost him to that tall ass bitch the moment they laid eyes on each other?
The doorbell rang, interrupting his trail of thoughts. He went to open the door. "Hey, Wonwoo...", he greeted his friend. "What's wrong?" the older asked. Hansol shrugged and stepped aside to let him in. They headed to the living room and sat down on the couch.
"Did something happen?" Wonwoo asked. "I think my boyfriend is cheating on me...", Hansol admitted. Wonwoo's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Picture this: You come into your boyfriend's apartment and a guy, he claims is just a friend, walks into the room in nothing but a towel and says that last night was more than necessary and he really needed that", he said.
"Shit...looks pretty obvious...", Wonwoo commented. "Yeah...that guy has been bugging me for a while now but I kept thinking that I was just overreacting but after today..." Wonwoo scooted a little closer and placed a hand on Hansol's thigh.
"Forget him, then. You deserve someone that only has eyes for you...", he said. "I've been waiting for an opportunity like this...", he added and leaned in closer. Hansol thought that maybe he should stop Wonwoo. It wasn't right. He didn't like Wonwoo like that. On the other hand, he wanted to get back at Soonyoung. Maybe his jealousy mission wasn't over yet after all...
Just as their lips were about to touch someone cleared their throat. Both, Hansol's and Wonwoo's heads snapped in the direction of the doorway...
14. Chapter 14
Chan knocked at the door of Jaemin's apartment. His left hand clutched around an extra large coffee mug. To say he was nervous to see the older was an understatement. He felt horrible for what he said to him and he wanted nothing more than to make up.
Jaemin opened the door a few seconds later but tried to close it again when he saw the taller male on the doorstep. Chan reacted quickly by putting his foot in the doorway. He noticed that the older's eyes were puffy and red and he felt even more horrible, knowing that he was the cause of it.
"Leave me alone!" Jaemin said. "Can we please talk?" Chan pleaded. "I thought there was nothing to talk about...", the older snapped but gave up trying to shut the door. Chan stepped inside.
"Listen, I'm sorry...I was an ass", he said. "Yeah, but at least you were honest...", Jaemin answered. Chan shook his head vigorously and stepped closer.
"I wasn't...I don't know what's gotten into me. I really like you. It's just that lately...I miss Jun so bad...I guess I'm just a little self-destructive sometimes...", he tried to explain. "I didn't mean it when I said that I'm sorry that we kissed...I actually loved it", he added.
Jaemin looked at the floor. Chan held the coffee out to him. "I'm really sorry for how I acted, hyung...", he said. A few seconds passed without either of them saying a word. Then, eventually, Jaemin took the coffee from Chan's hands and looked up at him.
"I like you, too...", he mumbled. Chan smiled and cupped Jaemin's cheeks before all but smashing their lips together. The older almost dropped his newly required coffee. Chan pulled back after several seconds for both of them to catch their breath.
"By the way...who was that guy you cuddled earlier?" Jaemin asked. "You saw that? That was just my best friend Hansol. He encouraged me to come here. I was sure you hated me and didn't want to see me again...", Chan explained.
"I didn't hate you. I was just hurt...", Jaemin admitted. Chan reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry", he apologized again. Jaemin chuckled. "No need to be. You're here now, aren't you?" he said.
~ |
11748d3b9bc5418f94e28bb024a6cce4 | ['2f31bb431afb4dbdbdcb4350cedaf85f'] | “Don’t worry about it.” The man gave him a pat on the shoulder and lightly pushed him towards the stairs. “Go on, then. Get to know the people you’re gonna be living with from now on. It’s best to get a good grip on who everyone is, you know. Make some friends.” When he was gone, it was as if he was never there to begin with. Libertus was nowhere to be found either. Eris found himself simply staring at that empty space for a while until someone else caught his attention.
“You know, _ Kingsglaive _ ’s got a nice ring to it and all, but in the end, Tredd was right. To them, we’re nothing but rats, plucked straight out of the sewers. But y’know what? We’re the luckiest rats around…” Rats? Tredd? He said that? She _ agreed _ with him? “After all, King Regis chose to give us a chance… In a way, he saved us when no one else would… I haven’t forgotten what he’s done for us. Have you?” She didn’t bother waiting for a response. She merely left him to think on it, but he couldn’t come up with an answer.
He’d forgotten, yes, but he couldn’t be ungrateful… If their lives were so horrible that a _ monarch _ had to step in to keep them from dying, then surely he’d be pretty happy about it, right? Then again… _ rats _ …? That sounded familiar, and he felt a spark of irritation and anger at the mere sound of the word, but he couldn’t put a finger on _ where _ it was coming from…
The thought disappeared as soon as it came. He walked around the area to get a better feel of the place.
_ Maybe he should have avoided talking to the Glaives _ . It was just a thought, and one he should have listened to. So far, he’d met up with three other Glaives from Insomnia who arrived in this city long before he did, both referencing to things he couldn’t understand. He felt like a child, staring blankly at the adult until he was given cryptic or unnecessary answers that never revealed anything.
“Nowadays, Lestallum is known as ‘The City of Hope,’ the last beacon of hope for mankind,” another former Glaive had told him. “That’s why everyone’s gathered here. Refugees are pouring in from all corners of Eos and it’s our job to keep them safe from the daemons. We Glaives fight for hearth and home and _ this _ is our home now.”
Before he could stop himself, he told the man, “It doesn’t feel like it.” The man looked put off by the comment, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the statement, because it was true. As he passed by all those people, he heard different stories regarding some sort of discrimination or violence, and sometimes both. He’d never call such a place his _ home _ . Then again... the last place he lived was no better.
“It doesn’t matter if it feels like it or not,” came the response, “this is all we’ve got, so we’d better salvage it the best we can.”
He chose not to continue that conversation. He didn’t think either side would understand the other, and he wasn’t sure how he could explain his part. The man was right, though. Even if there were stupid people here, he had to protect them. It wouldn’t do any good if he just stood by and watched as everyone rotted away. For some reason, that thought gave him shivers.
He eventually met up with Libertus again, once he'd finished his small exploration of the city. After getting to know some of the people there, Eris concluded that he probably wasn't going to enjoy every second he spent there. The quicker he received orders, the better. He couldn’t stand being in such a small, confined place for long, no matter how "safe" it was.
“There you are, Kid. How do you like your new home?” Libertus sounded almost hopeful, but Eris could have sworn it sounded kind of fake. He chose not to comment on it and kept quiet. The silence was all the answer Libertus needed, apparently, because he sighed and his smile dropped a little. “I know it’s nothing like Insomnia, but you’ll get used to it. I promise.”
Once again, he chose to remain silent. There was nothing he could say that would refute that promise, so he’d simply have to hold it to the man. They stood there for a moment before Eris unwrapped the coat from around him and held it out towards Libertus. “Do you want it back? You did say it belonged to a friend.”
“It’s okay, Kid. It’s not that important.” | a8565ede640f48c596b4f21552fe201e | ['2f31bb431afb4dbdbdcb4350cedaf85f'] | “Not after the fall. Now we fight to secure hope for a future. That’s all we can do.” Libertus sighed. “Get some more rest, Kid. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”
“... Okay…” The second he closed his eyes, he felt exhausted despite not doing anything. He let himself sleep again and he was thrown right back into a familiar dream.
_ Sonitus was gone. He didn’t know what happened, but he disappeared leaving him to bleed out on the ground. Trembling, he spread his arms apart and cast a spell on himself to seal the wound. He wasn’t a mage and he was terrible with magic, but it would have to do. When the blood was no longer dripping, he pulled himself up. _
_ There was no one left. He was alone and the chaos in the background pushed him forward. He began to search for survivors to help escort them out of the city. There weren’t many, which really began to sink in. A lot of the people were in the streets at the time. Now that the daemons could enter the city, he doubted many people could handle them. _
_ He couldn’t leave them, though. He couldn’t let them rot in the streets like that. While everyone made for the borders, Eris stayed behind. He watched the chaos of the battle in front of the Citadel, between a daemon and something else. It should have scared him, but all he could think about was whether or not he was the last Glaive standing. _
_ He wasn’t scared. It was just another Tuesday for him when it came to this kind of stuff. He was sad, though. So many of his brothers and sisters were killed at each other’s hands. He wondered how many more died when they split up into groups. How many traitors were there in the Kingsglaive? _
_ Was Nyx still alive…? _
His eyes were open again
2. Chapter 1
_ “Hey, Kid, when did you get glasses?” Unlike some of the comments he’d been expecting, Nyx’s question was out of pure curiosity, as if this was completely unexpected. In a way, it probably was. “Never noticed them before.” _
_ Almost instinctively, Eris reached up to where the frames were perched. He felt self conscious about them the whole day since he’d woken up late and completely forgotten to replace his glasses with contacts. He’d been getting strange looks all day because of it and it was unnerving. “I’ve had ‘em a while,” he mumbled, taking them off and cleaning invisible specks of dust from them. “They’re just not all that great for when we’re on missions and stuff, so I’ve been wearing contacts.” _
_ Even though he knew he hated it, Nyx ruffled his hair with a little laugh. “Good thinking. You’re lucky there wasn’t a lot today, otherwise you’d probably be killed.” _
_ “Of course not. You’d have my back, wouldn’t you?” _
_ There it was again, that laugh. Nyx wasn’t known for laughing much, but when he did, it was nice. It felt _ normal _. “Of course I would.” _
“Hey, Kid. We’re here.” He was shaken awake by Libertus and he frowned. What was he dreaming about again? He couldn’t remember… Then again, if he couldn’t remember, it probably wasn’t important. “C’mon. Hurry up, it isn’t safe out here.” Eris climbed out of the pickup and waited awkwardly for a moment before he trailed after Libertus. There was a man standing near what was probably the entrance to the city. It was a makeshift gate, made of broken down cars to keep anything from going into the city. The cars were slowly pulled up and he was given entrance. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw how broken everything seemed. There was a totaled and rusted car simply sitting at the steps and very little people.
Their emotions seemed to be divided. There were some who still had hope for survival while others had all but lost it. There were some who seemed more grateful to be alive while there were others who seemed more interested in criticizing others, one of which caught his ear as he passed by.
“That marshal walks around like a pathetic patrolman…” He stopped and backtracked a little to hear better. “...and don’t get me started on the prince’s “royal retainers”! Buncha bums if you ask me!" Libertus clenched his fists, the other man who had greeted them at the gates walked a little stiffly. Eris turned his attention elsewhere in case he was being obvious that he was staring.
He poked Libertus' side when he was right behind him. "I thought you said that this was a safe place."
Libertus didn't answer him right away. He frowned, yes, but it wasn't he who answered. “It is,” the man from the gate replied, “the people here can’t hurt you and hurting each other gives you and other Glaives here permission to beat the crap out of them.” He took his supplies with a brief thanks and then turned to fully face Eris. “Gently, of course. Can’t have you killing anyone now that our populations are decreasing.”
Eris stared blankly at him. He blinked a couple of times and tried for a smile, but it came out awkward and crooked instead. He gave up almost immediately with a tired shrug and he avoided his gaze. |
c85af373c3394c2bac5c812658de8e85 | ['2f8412dc746742f5a7e7d8d642509d09'] | He got a good hit on the closest one, sending it back while it whimpered over the slash across its neck, but the one behind was ready. It jumped Jace, pushing his chest down into the grime with paws as large as a horse's hooves.
Rushing forward, Magnus sent another bolt, but the wounded hellhound had recuperated and came out of nowhere. The blow sent him forcefully into the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs and sent the energy into the ceiling instead.
The surface it shot into collapsed, raining down the dirt and wood it was made up of.
A scream of pain tore through Jace's throat as the claws started digging into his rib cage. The distorted face of the hound neared, baring its drooling fangs. His sword was just out of reach, as he grasped for it and failed to get a grip.
Heaving for air, his head spinning, Magnus struggled to get up but a firm growl told him to stay put. His eyes flicked automatically to the jaws a few feet away, thirsting for blood. Its ruby eyes glowed deeply embedded in its tar coloured fur, pure evil drawing closer until he could feel its rotten breath ruffle through his hair. He raised an arm and the animal crushed it into the floor with a paw. It was the mistake that would give him the opportunity. Using his free arm, Magnus grasped the hollow, rotting bone and discharged another pressure wave, a replica of the one he'd sent through the door earlier. The effect was instantaneous. The hound, jerking once, exploded in a cloud of the same horrible odour they'd followed and a rain of demon ichor.
As it splattered down on him, another distinctive sound was heard.
With Jace pinned defencelessly on the ground the last demon was beheaded and it dissipated with a howl, leaving behind nothing but a stench.
In the corner of the room the remains of the first one still burned, providing light and the sweet incense of rotting meat.
Gripping the blade tightly as she stood above him, Clary asked Jace, "Are you alright?"
He nodded, letting a moan slip.
"Good," she said curtly before she kicked him squarely in the ribs.
"Ow! What the hell?!" Jace protested, rolling to his side.
"I can take care of myself, you stupid idiot!" Clary spat, casting a final disdainful glare on Jace's pitiful form before she drew herself up and directed her eyes to where Magnus was laying.
"You okay?"
As her attention turned to him, he saw that she too was covered in ichor. In fact, the whole room was.
"I'm fine," he replied, wiping his mouth from the foul taste. "You?"
"Yep," she said briskly. "Let's go."
She seemed reluctant to offer Jace a hand, and it proved unnecessary. As Magnus got to his feet, they could discern running footsteps and a voice calling, "Clary?"
Her head flew up.
"Simon?!"
Through the opening, Simon, with Izzy on his heels, appeared.
Clary ran into his unprepared arms, throwing her own around his neck. He wrapped her up, hugging her tightly.
"Thank god you're okay," Clary mumbled into his shoulder.
Izzy, seeing Jace, who was now standing upright, settled on another approach. She grinned, and patted his cheek when she reached him.
"You look terrible."
Looking over at Magnus, she kept grinning. "Life's never boring around you, is it?"
She didn't wait for a reply before she directed herself at Jace again.
"Truly appalling. What would our mother say?"
At last breaking the scowl that seemed permanently fixed on his face, Jace smiled crookedly.
"You're one to talk."
He reached out a hand and pulled at her braid. It was coated with ichor, as was her whole outfit as well as Simon's.
Izzy shook out her drenched hair with a disgusted face.
"Yeah, whoever said this was a bad idea was right."
ᛟ
"Maybe we can just sneak in."
It wasn't obvious who, but someone clearly hit Simon over the head as they walked up the steps to the Institute, since there was a wet smacking sound coming from behind. In their state, there was no sneaking in. They would be lucky if they got past the elevators without garnering everyone's attention. Magnus could have dropped them off at the stairs; should have. It was only the irrational fear of one of them falling down and breaking their neck now that they'd survived the whole night that kept him from leaving. As Izzy opened the door, Simon reminded them, "Everybody act normal."
Someone hit him again.
As they trudged in, the experience starting to weigh down on their tiring feet, it became clear there wouldn't be an easy escape.
Right in the middle of where the elevators were, Alec was standing, his arms crossed so tightly they looked about ready to break.
It was the perfect spot. It made it impossible for them to pass him without detection.
Subdued, all of them, with the exception of Magnus, gathered in front of him. Magnus stayed back as even Simon, sticking to Clary's side, seemed to regard Alec as an authority he needed to heed.
Alec judged them in silence, scanning them upside down while they dripped ichor on the expensive flooring.
"Did someone get hurt?" he at last asked.
"No," Izzy said quickly. "We all just need to shower." She made a face. "Really badly."
It seemed to pacify him enough.
"Okay. I expect a full report on those shax demons when you're clean."
Izzy nodded and the rest of them followed in a line.
Knowing they were safe now, Magnus turned around, not far from getting to go home when someone cleared their throat loudly.
"Magnus?" the voice prompted, not kindly.
He turned back and Alec was looking straight at him.
"A word?" | 099ad76df59d4f86a5122ca923329ffc | ['2f8412dc746742f5a7e7d8d642509d09'] | "Not like this." Alec's thumb grazed against his cheekbone. It felt like ice burning a path every inch it moved, like Alec was brushing scars into his skin. "Magnus," Alec said, his voice almost softer than his touch, "not like this."
There wasn't a hope to be crushed in the wake of Alec's words. No surprise. There was just nothing. Where something should've been, there wasn't anything left. It was just gone.
And Alec had to have understood that already. He must've known what the answer would be. Yet he still tried, for some unfathomable reason.
He always did.
Taking ahold of Alec's wrist, Magnus ungently pulled his hand away. "I'm not changing my mind." He let Alec go, stiffness returning to his frame. "Not for you or anyone else." How Alec could've deluded himself into thinking that he would, Magnus had no idea. "Get over it."
Magnus turned his back on Alec swiftly and took up walking again with a renewed determination.
"I want to go home."
It wasn't the childishness of the words that made Magnus pause. It was how they came out; the way Alec sounded.
Magnus looked over his shoulder and found Alec rooted to the same spot where he'd left him. His hands were by his sides and his shoulders sagged. He looked small. Like the weight of the world had come to rest on his shoulders and his knees hadn't held up beneath the pressure.
"I'm tired," Alec said, not hindered by the crack in his voice. "And I'm scared. And I don't want you to die."
One of his hands twitched, and Alec gripped the leather of his jacket and buried his fingertips there, as if he was trying to control himself from reaching for Magnus again. Not that it would've worked, even if he had tried. They were standing too far apart.
"Magnus, I'm really scared." Alec's eyes were shiny, but it wasn't a reflection of the moonlight. "Please," he begged.
Had Magnus been able to feel it, the weight of Alec's belief that he'd change his mind for him, because it was Alec asking, it could've broken what was left of his heart.
Magnus set his eyes forward again.
"So go."
The brittle beginnings of grass were crushed beneath his feet as he walked away from Alec. "I'm not stopping you."
Alec was free to leave.
Lengthening his stride to catch up to the others before they began believing that he and Alec had fallen prey to a ravenous wolf pack, Magnus had barely made it twenty feet before something was planted directly in his way.
"Move," Magnus ordered lowly.
"No," Alec replied, meeting Magnus' stare with one of his own.
"Alexander, move!"
"I said no!" Alec shouted right back, and this time he was furious.
Fine. If that was how Alec wanted to play it, then fine. He could stay here and rot.
Without another word, Magnus briskly sidestepped Alec to go past and immediately his wrist was caught.
"Let me go!" Magnus tried to wrest his arm free but it only made Alec's grip tighten. "Alec, let me-"
Magnus took a step back to gain leverage to jerk his arm away and Alec abruptly released him.
Quickly regaining his footing, Magnus glared at Alec who was unabashedly glaring back at him in return.
"What's your master plan here, exactly?" Magnus questioned cuttingly. "Hold me hostage until I do as you want?"
"I want you to tell me why I should," Alec told him in a tone that was sharp enough that there was no need for yelling. "Give me a reason to move."
Magnus averted his eyes from the train wreck standing in front of him. "You're way out of line."
"Tell me," Alec demanded.
Magnus flicked his eyes back to Alec and stared him down. "Don't push me."
He made to pass Alec again, but Alec stepped right into his path.
"I am not kidding, Alec," Magnus warned. "Get out of my way."
"No," Alec repeated bluntly. "I'm not getting out of your way. What are you going to do about it?"
It was such blatant goading that Magnus couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. Instead of dignifying Alec with any kind of response, Magnus angled his head in a direction that wasn't Alec's.
But not even that provided him any kind of respite, because Alec gripped his chin tightly, forcing him to turn back and look at him.
Magnus shoved his hand off.
"You hate me, Magnus," Alec reminded him, ruthlessly throwing those words back as his arm fell down to his side again. "You said so yourself. So I don't understand why you're having problems now."
Not falling for the temptation to snap back, Magnus stared at a dot right above Alec's left shoulder.
"Tell me why," Alec said.
Magnus kept his lips sealed.
Alec scoffed. "Or, let me guess, you can't answer this time either."
It struck the nerve it was supposed to, dug just a little too deep to be ignored, and it made it so easy.
Magnus snapped his eyes back to Alec. With how close they were standing, breathing the same air, the track marks, left behind by tears that Alec hadn't bothered wiping away, were visible.
"Because I don't care about you." Magnus said it simply, recklessly, and Alec blinked. "Because I don't love you."
If he wanted to, he could lift his hand and he'd feel Alec's heartbeat beneath his palm. He wouldn't even have to move his feet.
"Because I'm not in love with you and I never will be."
And then it was too late when Alec leaned away from him.
"There's your why," Magnus told him, and Alec's eyes fell until he wasn't looking at him anymore.
But he was still standing in the way.
"It was a kiss, Alec," Magnus said, shouldering past him. "Not some epic romance." |
f892edd6db1e418abd01268bcf6b002d | ['2fae9daa8c2f4b158cc8bae007b96722'] |
Dressed To Kill
**Author's Note:**
> For Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo's bonus Hallowe'en Round, using the prompt VAMPIRE.
>
> And that's a BINGO! :)
Greg was almost safely to the door of 221B Baker Street when a passing zombie drunkenly lurched towards him and grabbed at his arm. He caught her and helped her stand more upright.
"Oops! Sorry!" she giggled. "Thanks."
"No problem."
She looked him up and down and giggled again.
"You look like Indiana Jones's dad!"
"Well, technically that could be true on a couple of levels," Greg thought. Either she was referring to literary influence or sadly more likely, she saw some resemblance to Sean Connery.
"Thanks," he said.
"I'm a zombie!"
"Yeah, I got that."
A Frankenstein's monster appeared at the corner, waving to her. "Lisa! You alright?"
She shooed him away with a hand flapped in his general direction. "Yeah, fine. Just tripped is all. Hang on."
She smiled at Greg again, gave him a cheery little wave then wandered off down the street in a mostly straight line.
"Bloody Hallowe'en," thought Greg as he rang the doorbell. "Glad I'm not on duty tonight."
The door was opened by another Frankenstein's monster, this time with the green smiling face of John Watson.
"Hello, Greg."
"Evening, John. Nice bolts."
"Yeah, Sherlock stuck 'em on - I'm just hoping they come off again! Come on in!"
Greg held up the six pack of beer he'd brought.
"Oh, cheers!" John said. "Why don't you take those upstairs and stick 'em in the fridge? Sherlock cleaned it out specially for tonight." John looked Greg's costume over as he stepped inside. "Big game hunter, eh? Nice! I think I saw a couple of large cats upstairs you could take aim at." He gave Greg a conspiratorial wink and Greg sighed inwardly. John and Mary had been trying to set him up for months now. Speaking of Mary…
"Where's your Bride by the way?"
"Oh, she's upstairs with Lizzie. There was no chance we were going to get a babysitter tonight so we just brought her along. She's our Igor - Mary gave her a little hunchback and everything."
"So who's…"
"John, do we have any ginger beer?" They were interrupted by a demand from the landing which answered Greg's question before he'd asked it.
Victor Frankenstein - AKA Sherlock Holmes - was staring imperiously down at his creation.
"Cupboard under the toaster - but it won't be chilled," John replied.
Sherlock turned around in a whirl of frock coat and blood stained apron - God, Greg hoped that was fake blood - and disappeared back upstairs.
"He's creating cocktails using his chemistry equipment," John explained. "Don't worry - it's all been very thoroughly sterilised. Making quite a good job of it too. I think he may have found an alternate career as a mixologist."
"I think I'll just stick to the beer, thanks!" Greg replied.
"Probably wise," John agreed. "Go on up, I just need to grab some more nibbles from Mrs Hudson's fridge - it's acting as our spare."
Greg climbed the stairs and edged his way into the crowded living room, nodding a greeting to the few faces he recognised and some he didn't who greeted him anyway. A leggy blonde in a leopard-print catsuit complete with matching ears gave him a very broad smile. Greg smiled politely back then turned to flee into the kitchen.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
Mycroft Holmes was standing by the doorway into the kitchen.
His hair was slicked back more severely than usual and looked a few shades darker - in stark contrast to his face which was a few shades paler - and instead of his customary three piece suit he was wearing white tie and tails and a floor-length black cloak with red silk lining.
He was every inch the classic, full on, Bela Lugosi's Dracula.
And Greg had _always_ had a thing for vampires.
He'd also, for a good long while, had a bit of a thing for Mycroft Holmes. This was not a combination that boded well...
Holmes looked round, spotted Greg gawking at him and gave him a slow smile revealing two sharp fangs. He inclined his head and drawled, "Good evening, Lestrade."
Greg's mouth went dry. He swallowed nervously and licked his lips. "M-Mr Holmes, you look…" _dangerous, sexy, fucking amazing_ all mercifully kept themselves behind Greg's lips and instead he opted for, "...very impressive."
"Thank you. As do you. Freshly returned from King Solomon's Mines?"
"Yes!" Greg couldn't stop himself from giving a relieved smile. "You're the first person to guess correctly."
"I rarely guess, Detective Inspector. You're dressed as a turn of the century big game hunter and have even grown the requisite beard for the occasion. Who else could you be but Allan Quatermain?"
"I was beginning to think I was the only person still alive who'd read it!"
"Hardly - though I believe more people these days will be familiar with him from the graphic novels and films."
Holmes was cradling a large wine glass full of thick red liquid. He held it up as he saw Greg looking curiously at it.
"Not B positive I assure you." Greg wondered for a moment if Mycroft actually _knew_ his blood group or that was just a co-incidence - he suspected not. "Something Sherlock whipped up for me - a variation on kir. He knows what a sweet tooth I have."
"Looks more like a sharp tooth than a sweet one."
"Indeed." Holmes ran his tongue slowly down one pointed canine. It sent a chill down Greg's spine and a flush of heat to his groin. "I may leave these in and see what reception they get at work on Monday morning."
"Are-- sorry." Greg cleared his throat - his voice had gone a bit husky for some reason. "Are they just stuck on?" | 6427d8aed8574c4ab8e95b2a11e68d24 | ['2fae9daa8c2f4b158cc8bae007b96722'] | "Not yet. I texted him before I was aware he was trying to pass incognito but there's been no reply. I don't know if he has his phone turned on or even if he has it on him. If he has been able to avoid detection he'll try and stay close to Lestrade and that may mean he doesn't have the opportunity to get in touch."
"I'll get the footage we have from earlier queued up for you. There's not much of it I'm afraid, but you can see if you can spot him in the crowd."
"The cameras inside have been disabled?"
"No, they're all working - they've just been tampered with; covered up or had stuff thrown at the lenses. We still control all the security systems so they're not going anywhere but at the same time they've physically barricaded the doors so we can't get in."
"But if Lestrade and Watson need to get out?"
"It's a high-security building, Mr Holmes. It's designed specifically to prevent that."
"No, it's designed to keep people in that you _want_ to keep in. If the building is on their side, that's a different story altogether." Sherlock spread out some of the floor plans on the seat and across his knees. "They're holding Lestrade in the recreation hall?" he asked.
"Last we saw," Roberts replied.
"Right. We need to find a route ready that they can take if they manage to get out of there. That part's entirely up to them unfortunately. Has anybody actually spoken to Lestrade since you saw him?"
"No, sir." There was a muffled noise as Roberts put his hand over the phone and spoke to someone beside him. "Harper's just asking to do so. We'll tell Fisher we can't promise him anything unless he proves Lestrade is still alive and unharmed."
"OK. When he speaks to Lestrade, remember the role John is playing and try to get Lestrade to confirm it. We also need him to confirm he's still in the rec hall." Sherlock looked up through the partition at the back of the driver's head. "ETA?"
"Eleven minutes, sir," the driver replied.
"I'll be with you in ten minutes. Can you have--" Sherlock was interrupted by his personal phone announcing a new text message. "Wait! I have a message. This may be John." He tucked the spare phone under his chin while he quickly opened the message and read it. "Ha! Well done, John... Oh!" Sherlock almost dropped both phones as he realised the full implication of John's text. He scrambled to speak into the first phone. "Roberts! Stop him! Stop Harper asking to speak to Lestrade! They don't have him any more but they may not know it yet... Roberts? Roberts!"
"...Sorry, sir. Fisher's already said he's going to fetch him..."
11. Chapter 11
John and Lestrade barged through some large double doors into another cross corridor.
John's phone signalled an incoming text. Lestrade watched John closely as he read it. His frown pretty much said it all.
Lestrade knew he wouldn't like the answer but still had to ask. "What's the news?"
"Fisher's coming to find you so you can talk to the negotiator." John pressed a few buttons and held the phone up to his ear.
"Shit."
"Pretty much what I thought, yeah..." John switched his attention from Lestrade back to his phone. "Sherlock - got your message. We're on our own so talking's quicker. Anywhere we can go from here?"
There was a smell of damp and cleaning chemicals in the air. Lestrade guessed they were near the toilets and showers. He checked left - open doorways into tiled rooms - and right - two closed doors and another set of stairs.
"Yeah, well, we _didn't_ go out the South door, we came out the North one," John snapped. "Seriously? Nowhere?"
Lestrade took a deep breath. _I don't believe I'm going to say this..._ "We can go back." He was surprised how calm he sounded. "Try and continue the bluff."
John just _looked_ at him. "Shut up, Greg. Not an option. Sherlock, for fuck's sake - give me something, _anything_."
Lestrade glanced back through the glass in the doors behind them in time to see Lenny coming out of the rec hall, followed by Nipper. Lenny had a face like thunder. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, turned and barked something at Nipper, clearly not happy he'd let Lestrade out of his sight.
Lestrade grabbed John's shirt and pulled him down below the level of the window. "Lenny's going upstairs," he hissed. "We'll have to head him off."
"What? Greg, you can't-- Greg!"
Lestrade ignored him. If he stopped and thought about what he was doing, he'd only talk himself out of it. He kept low and headed for the stairs. Behind him, he heard John trying to keep up his running commentary to Sherlock as he followed.
"No, he's heading upstairs to meet them, the set of stairs to the right... Any rooms we can reach from this end? Yeah... Right... Gotcha. Ok - back to silent." John caught up with him at the top of the stairs and pushed open the door on the right. "Through here. First on the right then into the first room on the left."
They both dived through the doorway. Further away they could hear muted voices as Lenny and Nipper reached the top of the other stairs just around the corner.
John led the way into what turned out to be the same room they'd started off in, what felt like another lifetime ago. Lestrade's suit jacket was in a torn heap on the floor. |
ff4260cbbbbd4a3192980abdca4a17aa | ['2fb4335079a3418a95520781e8cc2d12'] | She looked down at her own paper, she too ignoring the lesson. Not that it mattered to her, she had already learned the information, knowing with her ghost fighting that she would need to get ahead of the class with studying in case she had to “leave early”. Graphing polynomials was a breeze anyway. Currently, her math book was only out to trick the teacher into thinking she was paying attention. Her doodle notebook was where her focus was. Inside were pages of doodles solely of Danny fighting ghost and his DP symbol.
The teen sighed, circling a logo. As hard as she tried, Sam Manson just could not mask her feelings for Danny and it drove her insane. Why did his snow white hair have to sail perfectly around his face when he flew? How come his deep ocean blue eyes could always read her like a book? Why did he always have to be the hero? It was so attractive.
Thankfully for her, however, Danny was clueless. Tucker saw right through her charade, despite his own failure to read the emotions of other females, but Danny did not pay enough attention to details like the techno-geek. The halfa was oblivious to the way she watched and studied him, in both ghost and human form.
After a painstaking class, the bell was only minutes away from ringing and releasing the high school students to lunch.
Danny looked proudly down at his paper. Centered in the middle the words “Sam Fenton” were written largely in luscious cursive. A green ectoplasmic looking heart surrounded the name and there were black roses falling off pieces of some letters. Despite the coloring, however, one could still see the erased “Samantha Fenton”. Danny was going to write her full name out, but reconsidered. He figured that if she ever saw this doodle it would be best that she not see her real name, because if the fact that he loved her didn’t piss her off, that certainly would.
Just then the bell rang. Everyone got up from their seats except for the young Danny Fenton, still staring at his masterpiece. He didn’t even hear the bell, not realizing class was over until he saw the girl of his thoughts come walking his way.
In a wave of panic he suddenly snatched the paper and crumpled it up into a ball.
“Yet another hour of hard work ruined,” he grumbled between clenched teeth wedged into a nervous smile, further packing the paper into his large hands.
“Hey,” Sam said upon finally reaching his desk. “Whatcha got there?”
“Oh this?” He asked nervously, gesturing to the paper ball while sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just…uh…poorly, half taken notes.”
“Oh really?” Sam replied.
The halfa smirked, “Yes, although I could ask you the same question.”
Miss Manson looked down at her hand defensively. It held a torn page from her doodle book, the one she was working on earlier, only for the product to come out too unsatisfactory to keep with her others. “Oh, Chemistry homework, although I don’t like the way it turned out.”
Both teens knew the other way lying about what their papers contained, but neither wanted to ask the other to spill, since they would have to admit the truth behind their own if they did so. Instead the pair shrugged and threw their papers into the overflowing blue recycle bin next to the door.
Danny looked behind him, “Tuck’, you coming?” he questioned his other best friend, Tucker Foley, who was trailing behind in trying to fit his entire tech collection into his small backpack.
“Go onto lunch without me” the black teen called back, “I will be there in a minute.”
The ghost and Goth exchanged a look. It was quite unlike Tucker to miss his opportunity to be first in the lunch line, given how much he loved food, especially meat, but they blew it off as nothing. After all, he might adore food, but he cherished his technology more, and would never leave, or go, for that matter, anywhere without every last circuit of it. So they kept walking, arms sliding occasionally on the other’s skin as they did given the proximity of closeness in which they walked.
Adjusting his red beret, it wasn’t long before the techno-geek had every last bit of this belongings crammed, albeit carefully, into his backpack. As he began a jog towards the exit, Tucker stopped, eyeing the papers in the recycle bin he saw his two best, and arguably only, friends, deposit papers into. Without much of a second thought, he snatched the items up, unfolding the mess of paper, and examined the artwork. He knew all about Sam’s crush on Danny already. It was actually pretty obvious, but Danny was your typical clueless teenager boy. Tucker also knew that Sam had been the one to design his trademark logo, so her artwork did not surprise him in the least.
Next, he flattened out Danny’s sketch. As the boy’s best friend, nothing about the halfa surprised him anymore…well actually since working with ghosts, almost nothing at all took Tuck back, but this…his turquoise eyes traced the lettering of “Sam Fenton” and how much care he put into it. Now this shocked the techno-geek. Sure, he knew of Danny’s borderline obsession with the Goth. One would have to be blind not to see the way Sam could make the Great Danny Phantom blush, in both human and ghost form. As a matter of fact, given the cold nature of ectoplasm, ghosts shouldn’t even be able to blush, but yet Miss Manson got it out of Phantom.
But still, thinking about having her take his last name…about marriage, heck the kid could hardly decided between what shirt to wear in the morning with his elevated stress levels, and yet he came to the executive decision that he loves Sam! Of all the things he could be thinking about.
Tucker sighed, “My friends are absolutely hopeless.”
With a smirk, he crammed the papers deep into his pockets, after all, they may come in handy for blackmail. ‘But that could wait until after lunch’ he thought, taking off towards the cafeteria.
Whether Danny and Sam were in love or not, the techno-geek was getting meat in his system before next period. | 5aa86a0a4d104d5bae07715a139ecb98 | ['2fb4335079a3418a95520781e8cc2d12'] | Exploiting the Truth
**Author's Note:**
> This is personal and it is mine. NO FLAMES, it is meant to encourage, not cause anger. If it bothers you then just leave.
I Remember. It’s hard to forget. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many times you tell yourself “it wasn’t that bad,” when you close your eyes, the feeling of cool metal pressed firmly up against your skin never goes away. It still haunts you. The hatred in the form of burning passion directed at the hand as it begins to drag the sharpness slowly across your skin, tearing it at is molecular seems. You despise it-every goddamn second, and yet you cannot help but to sigh with relief, leaning into the force that is being applied.
You shouldn’t let them do this to you. It’s wrong, you know, yet, as blood begins to bead, you’re mystified, unable to speak, unable to scream at the person to stop. Some days are worse than others. It was never that bad, but it still happened, and it no longer mattered where. When the pressure leaves, an abrupt chill fills your body, despite the heat of your exposed flesh, the terrifying comfort of warmth only returns when the blade does.
Sometimes their vicious in their pursuit, sometimes slow. Sometimes the rhythm of it matches the heavy beat of music drumming in your ears, though usually your mind was so blank you could hardly hear it, but at that point, blank was better than thinking.
And suddenly it’s over. The person behind the blade slips the object in your hand and retreats back into your mind, and as you set the knife down and look up into the mirror, only your tear stained smile is left staring back at you. Your eyes drift to admire your work: Beautiful, delicate, and best of all, it won’t scar.
Some say it’s acts like this that are simply a cry for attention, but if you really wanted people to pay mind to your problems why would you cover it up with long shirts and jackets? You might want help and are afraid to ask, or maybe you don’t want to bother anybody, but whatever this is, it is not a cry for anything. All of the pain you feel, hate for yourself and feelings of failure. That feeling of needing to be punished, even for feeling what you do at all, it is a relief to get what you believe you deserve…but it is not just that. This…this feeling you have, you need to make it tangible, to prove, if at least to yourself, that it’s not just in your head, that you are not crazy. What you feel, what you are going through, it’s real. I mean, just look! It is there on your arm! It’s not just a phase or hormones or being sad, it consumed your entire being, it’s real, it’s chronic, and it’s killing you. It’s yourself, or better yet, your depression and self hatred. You want to tell, to get help, but you are afraid. No one will understand. They’d be better off without you.
Except you’re wrong
You don’t have to be alone. There are people who love you, reasons to live. Looking back now, fingers feeling the smooth tape that wraps my blade, I had people who loved me, who could’ve been willingly there for me if I’d only asked. Some people abandoned me, but that only made way for those who matter to walk into my life with.
I am worth something.
Everybody is worth something.
I know this now, although it was difficult to understand then. I am stronger too, and more full of love than ever. That can be anybody. Putting my hand up to my shoulder, I still feel blood smearing as it cools. I can feel the pain, see the horror, but I no longer submit to the dark, it submits to me!
You are in control; you just need to take that first step.
If you or a loved one is self-harming, call 1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288)
Remember to always believe in yourself, imagine the future you will have if you get through this, so much more understanding and compassion in your heart.
Together we can get through this, now and forever. |
a3cfacfd84cd49c6891327cb89c6ca48 | ['2fb931c0c51348f5897fd42310d00bd8'] | baby doll, you know you swept me off my feet
There was always a hush after a battle. It had been the same in Romania, and in Germany, and Korea - though Jonathan had been alone for that last, alone despite being surrounded by other men. It had felt _ good _ to fight with Charlotte at his back again. No one had died. The nightclub was a mess, but the demon leaking ichor all over the dance floor was a worse one, unmoving and decapitated. _ No one had died. _ At some point, he’d sunk down to his knees, and that reminded him why they’d come here. “You know, I had something planned for tonight,” he said, fishing in his jacket’s pockets for the ring box. “Besides celebrating your shiny new degree, I mean.”
He looked up at her, and Charlotte looked down at him with her head canted to one side, like he’d just done something strange. She was beautiful, even splattered with monster gore and little bits of ash. Made that cropped-close haircut look better than Audrey Hepburn could dream of doing. Even now, grown up, ten whole years after Brauner’s - Dracula’s - _ the Castle _ , she was just _ incandescent _ after a good fight. Slowly, she smiled. “You’re just full of surprises these days, aren’t you?” she asked, her smile becoming a slightly nervous grin.
“Hey, somebody’s got to keep you on your toes,” Jonathan said, swiveling to face her directly, and shifting so it looked like he’d properly gone down on one knee. “I, uh… I kind of had a whole speech planned for this, but I can’t remember it all now.” His quiff had collapsed, the pomade apparently giving way as he’d dodged close to strike the demon with his improvised weapons while Charlotte cast a spell; he couldn’t remember precisely when, maybe once they’d figured out the pattern worked. He had a fringe hanging over half his face again, now, almost like he’d used to wear his hair. Somehow it seemed fitting.
Charlotte nodded, her eyes suddenly brighter. No, not brighter, just more reflective of the lights in the room - “Go ahead and say what you remember, then,” she said, quietly, blinking a few times before swiping carefully at her eyes.
“My father died having let the love of his life walk away from him so they could each marry someone else,” Jonathan said, “and I don’t want to repeat _ any _ of his mistakes, but especially not that one.” It wasn’t fair, that Eric and John would never have had a moment like this even if he’d stayed, but they could never have, not in this world. Maybe in the next - and he’d paused almost too long. “I guess… I’ve never been too good with words, Charlotte, you of all people know that best.”
She nodded, one hand pressed to her lips, her eyes silently urging him on.
He grinned, crooked and bashful, and took a deep breath before continuing. “What I’m trying to ask you to do is to put up with me for the rest of our lives. Marry me, Doctor Aulin. Please?” He popped the ring box open with his thumb, raising it up to her like a pagan priest asking for consecration. He held his breath, waiting.
Charlotte carefully tucked the little grimoire she’d been holding into her purse before taking the box from him. Her hands were trembling, very faintly, but definitely trembling, and it took her a moment to slip the ring on. “Of _ course _ I’ll marry you. Was that even in question? Ever?”
He laughed, shaking his head, and stood. “Guess not. Not to anybody not me, anyway.”
She almost knocked the breath from him, then, throwing herself at him and clinging. “I was worried you’d never _ ask _ ,” she said in a very small voice, her cheek pressed against his chest. “I love you, you idiot.”
“Love you too, kid,” he said, and grinned again when she swatted at him.
**Author's Note:**
> Not sure I'm brave enough to tug on that thread of Jonathan having served in Korea and being mildly traumatized as a result myself, but it just seemed to fit.
>
> The title is a line from "Make Love To Me", which Jo Stafford recorded in 1954 - you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JG5Brc9KrS8 | 70cae45ee1fc4467a1d329947c55addf | ['2fb931c0c51348f5897fd42310d00bd8'] |
1. no one will be watching us/why don't we do it in the road
**Author's Note:**
> A brief disclaimer: this started as an exercise in seeing how well I could imitate the style of Louis L'Amour's pulp adventure stories, combat and all. It started that way, at least.
>
> If you're here for Passionate Manly Friendship and not an extended fight scene, just wait for chapter two to go up. It's coming, I promise.
The last time this stretch of road had been re-paved, Rome still ruled, probably. Shadows flickered at the edge of his vision, illusions bolstered by the jittering light of headlamps over an uneven old stone road. It was late, and John was exhausted. Not like either of those things was anything new, nowadays, but being crammed behind the wheel of an Italian automobile with both of them added novelty and risk. “Hey. Eric?” The blond at his side stirred briefly, a quiet groan his only response. “C’mon, camerado, I’m startin’ to see double here. Wake up and take over driving.”
With another groan, Eric sat upright, and fussed at his cloak until it was no longer wrapped around him. “Where - how long was I sleeping?” He peered up at the sky, and scowled at how low the moon now hung. “You’ve driven the whole night through.”
“Not all the way through, it’s still dark, isn’t it?”
“ _John._ ”
Even keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead, John could tell when he was the subject of a withering glare. “You were tired,” he protested.
“So are you, we both fought hard!” From the sound of his voice, Eric was ready to start fighting _again_ , and it might have been a real throw-down of an argument but for one of the shadows at the edge of his sight _detaching_ and flowing out into the road maybe thirty feet ahead. John swore and yanked hard on the brake lever, slamming the throttle all the way down as he did. The engine sputtered to a stalled halt as the tires skidded over the paving-stones. Eric barely managed to catch himself against the dash with the haft of his spear, cracking the windscreen.
John didn’t expect it to really be there, to be something real, but there was a very solid figure in front of them. It was grave-pale, and it hissed as it fled backwards. Evidently, it wasn’t fond of electric lights. Something was out of place here. The creature had been a woman once, that much was obvious from what the black rags hanging off its body left in full view. A zombie wouldn’t have moved so fluidly, but no self-respecting vampire would be wandering around in shredded clothing like that.
Whatever it was, it had _backed away_ once they’d properly stopped. That spoke of some kind of consciousness. It was hanging back at the edge of the headlamps’ glow, and when it moved, red eyeshine flashed bright. Maybe a mad vampire, then, one whose mind had shattered instead of cleaving cleanly from everything good. Great-grandpa Reinhardt’s bestiary had descriptions of freshly-turned vampires like that, almost-pitiful things that he and Rosa had been forced to -
His train of thought jolted to a halt much like the car had, as Eric sagged back against the bench seat next to him. “No,” he breathed, holding the spear before him as though trying to deflect a blow, hands clenched white-knuckled around the haft. “No, no, no, this can’t be….”
John squinted into the gloom. There was something about the face, he’d been looking towards its _face_ , not the obvious distracting bits. “ _Whatever_ that is over there, it’s not a woman anymore. If that’s what’s got you spooked.”
“No, John. No, it’s worse, I - I did something terrible before we left Segovia,” Eric stammered, slowly shaking his head. He looked terribly sick, and even more terribly sad.
“The hell? That doesn’t explain anything, it’s not like you can make vampires!”
“I tried to _unmake_ one,” he said, and stood, peering intently over the windscreen at the motionless figure before them. “And now she has found us, instead of me finding her.”
As though his voice had cut through whatever fugue the creature before them was wrapped up in, it stepped forward, rolling its head from side to side with feral grace. It extended a hand languidly. “My love,” the vampire called. “At last. It’s been so long, Eric, I was worried… I looked everywhere for you.”
He knew that voice, John realized. It was a rasping, dry mockery of the dulcet tones he’d heard in Paris, but he knew that voice. “Gwendolyn?” he asked, voice cracking under the weight of sudden sick horror. Eric had said he’d taken care of the monster that had begun stalking his city’s streets, had said he’d been injured in the fight and that’d he’d be fine once they made it to Romania. Surely he hadn’t meant that he’d let it escape, or that it was - but what he’d just said, his reaction -
Suddenly, it was focused on him, turning with an exaggerated flounce of its ragged skirt. “Oh!” the creature exclaimed, sounding delighted. He couldn’t help but recoil, and felt a flush of shame creeping up from under his collar. “John, too? Why, it’s almost a party….”
If her acknowledgement weren’t proof enough, the agonized groan that escaped Eric’s throat then would have been. “My God,” John whispered. “Eric, what in God’s name did you _do?_ ” |
fe615ab7537b487f8db6dc1fa1f96390 | ['2fd91636adc342389f4204aabf97bbda'] | “I want you-” Seregil voice cut off by a deep moan as Alec’s hand found his way to Seregil’s cock once again. He found himself moving into Alec’s warm hand, hips jerking up off the bed. Had their streak of abstinence been that long? He looked at Alec’s features, blush spilling across his chest now, his eyes screwed shut. Seregil brought his finger across Alec’s lips.
“Look at me, talí,” he sighed, feeling Alec’s cock throb under his fingers. Alec opened his eyes, his brow still knit in pleasure. It sent a rush of heat straight to Seregil’s cock. The look in his eye when he became completely lost in his own passion, always stirred such a feeling in his belly. He couldn’t help but thrust helplessly into Alec’s hand at the sight. Just then, Alec opened his mouth, dragging his tongue down Seregil’s finger only to pull it into his mouth and suckle hungrily at it. Seregil’s own mouth tumbled open.
“Aura Elustri!”
His back arched and he saw sparks of white behind his eyes. Alec’s hand twisted tighter around his cock as he cried out, making his own soft sounds in return, kissing his shoulder sloppily.
His hips rolled against Alec’s hand as he began the climb down from his climax, soft whimpers escaping his lips. He heard Alec’s heavy pants next to his ear.
Licking his lips he sensed Alec was not far behind him. He rubbed his thumb against Alec’s over sensitive head once again before he twisted his hand down his length, fast and hard. His hips jolted at the touch, crying out unintelligible words of praise. He leaned in close to his ear, moaning back his own quiet extolments. Alec shuddered and groaned, his hands extended to Seregil for any skin he could reach. His eyes had screwed shut once again when Seregil kissed his neck, wetly.
He withdrew for a moment.
“Please look at me, talí.” he whispered, voice like honey. “Nothing pleases me more than to see your handsome face brimming with pleasure.”
Alec opened his eyes, his gaze already sent another spark of hot arousal straight to Seregil’s cock.
“Your beauty overwhelms me, talí,” Seregil whispered hoarsely, repeating the same phrase Alec had uttered in a bout of passion.
Alec groaned and jerked into his palm. With a shuddering gasp Alec cried out, his hands tightening around Seregil’s arm. His mouth was parted and wet, his half lidded eyes looking into Seregil’s.
Slowly, Alec calmed his ministrations, Seregil smoothing out his blonde locks. Alec shut his eyes, the touch soothing him into a state of peaceful bliss.
“Hm.” Seregil uttered, looking down at his own torso.
“What a mess we’ve made this time, Alec.”
Alec opened a single blue eye.
“Would you rather I kept my hands to myself?” he replied, eyeing him coyly from the side.
“Never,” Seregil grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to Alec’s temple.
He stood to fetch a clean linen from the washstand. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he realized he bore a look of serene satisfaction. He quickly cleaned his torso and thigh with the edge of the linen, then returned to Alec’s side, quickly cleaning his torso as well.
Alec looked up at him, a smile as sweet as Zengati wine upon his features. Extending his hand to Seregil’s cheek, he brushed a fallen strand of hair behind his ear. Seregil’s heart stuttered for a moment as he watched the man, hair spilled across the cream pillow, face still an alluring red hue. He pressed his cheek into his palm, closing his eyes briefly.
“Don’t run away again, talí.” he whispered. Seregil opened his eyes and kissed Alec’s palm.
“I was only getting some linen to…” his words died on his lips as Alec pressed his body against his own. His hands went up to tangle in Seregil’s dark hair.
Seregil sighed. He returned the embrace, hiding his face in Alec’s neck.
_Don’t run away again, talí._
His throat grew tight, and he held Alec closer, his hands making curved patterns along his back. He kissed his shoulder absently, still flushed a brilliant red.
Alec’s hands began to wander as well, down the slight arch of Seregil’s back, past various raised scars and burns, and stopped at the beginning of his thigh.
He dragged his hand up the way it came, giving his buttock a hard squeeze.
Seregil laughed quietly into the warmth of Alec’s neck, making Alec’s own mouth curl into a grin.
“Would a second course be agreeable, my lord?” he whispered with mirth.
“Mm. Indeed… I can think of a few things I’d like to taste.” Alec replied, tracing a finger up Seregil’s side, following the slow dip of his hips. The touch left his skin tingling.
Seregil withdrew from Alec’s neck to look at him, feigning a look of utterly scandalized shock.
“Oh, how I mourn the death of my modest Dalnan!” he cried, placing a hand over his chest, and one daintily over his forehead.
“Oh?” Alec said eyebrow arched. He dipped his hand in between Seregil’s thighs, earning him a soft gasp. He kissed him roughly under his jaw, running his teeth across the sensitive skin. Seregil’s hands gripped Alec’s hips for a moment, before Alec was gently pushing him onto his back once more. He lead a trail of kisses feverently down his neck, listening to Seregil’s quickening breath.
Alec pressed kiss after kiss down Seregil’s torso, savoring the quiver of his belly as his mouth traveled lower.
Seregil’s cock was already hard again against pliable skin of his belly. Alec’s fingers circled around the base, rubbing it gently enough for Seregil to let out a frustrated huff. Alec’s tongue ran over his lips, grey eyes following the movement with the eyes of a hawk. | 2efe8e2a17634dbab540f79e6a86146d | ['2fd91636adc342389f4204aabf97bbda'] | With great care, Alec placed a kiss on the engorged head. Seregil ran his hands through Alec’s hair, looking down at him through dark lashes. Color rose to Seregil’s face as Alec’s tongue traced the underside of his cock. Seregil hissed as he took the head back into his mouth.
The thick heat of Alec’s mouth felt heavenly on his skin. His head fell back onto the pillow, he feared if he watched Alec any longer, the pleasure would be too much and he would be unable to hold back. Alec’s fingers circled around the base of his cock, rubbing much too gently to get the friction Seregil needed for release. His thighs twitched when he chanced a glance down at Alec, lips glistening and parted. He caught the hungry look in his eye, sending a rush of heat to his cock. His eyes shut as he bit out a choked moan.
Seregil’s fingers curled in Alec’s hair, as more moans left his mouth. It seemed Alec was just as skilled with his mouth as his hands. The feel of Seregil’s fingers on his scalp made Alec moan, his mouth still pressed hotly against his cock. Seregil whimpered softly at the sound, his hips fidgeting impatiently.
“Does that please you, talí?” Alec’s voice was like sweet wine going smoothly down his throat, lighting a fire in his belly.
_It’s almost aggravating how alluring he is. Especially when he’s so dutifully unaware of it._
Seregil couldn’t muster an answer for his lover, all that left his mouth was a tremulous groan. He assumed Alec would take that to mean a resounding “yes.”
Seregil’s breath was quickening, the muscles in his abdomen growing tense. The pitch of his voice rose steadily as Alec’s fingers stroked the length of his cock, his tongue pressed against the dripping head. He glanced down at Alec once more. His face was still flushed crimson, making his dark eyes stand out, his lips glossy and as red as his cock. The sight made him buck up accidentally into Alec’s mouth.
Before he could apologize however, Alec only seemed encouraged all the more. He moaned against his cock, the vibrations of which Seregil felt on his skin.
With an almost shout and another frenzied jolt of his hips, Seregil climaxed, spilling across Alec’s lips. Alec’s fingers worked him through his waves of pleasure, his hips trembling as he arched his back.
Seregil’s breaths quieted as he stroked Alec’s golden hair. Alec licked his lips before his face twisted into one of disgust.
"Never much cared for the stuff.” he said, getting up to fetch the discarded linen. Seregil laid still, making no comment. Nothing could deter him from this bone melting afterglow. He closed his eyes. Alec was by his side again, laughing quietly. His breath moved the hairs on his neck.
“Still mourning the death of your modest Dalnan?” he asked darkly, his face pressed into Seregil’s neck.
“Oh, how you spoil me so, Alec,” Seregil groaned, opening one silver eye to look at him. Alec pressed a kiss to his neck. “Soon I’ll be utterly rotten to my core. Then what use would I be to you?”
Alec withdrew to meet his friend’s gaze.
“Of use? You aren’t some old mule I can put out to pasture once it's too lame for plowing.” Alec remarked, almost piqued by the thought.
“Perhaps one day, talí,” he grinned sardonically, using a single finger to make small circles in Alec’s side. “I find it highly implausible that I’ll be suitable for a good plowing by my 400th year.”
“Seregil!”
His grin only widened at Alec’s outburst, a deep chuckle resonating in his chest. Alec was a strange creature indeed. One moment he was the shameless vixen whispering obscenities into your ear and the next he was the self righteous prude smacking you upside the head. He had the passing notion to tell him this, but he put it aside for something much more appealing.
“In any case,” Seregil’s cadence changed to one slow and melodic. The sound of his voice like a gentle caress. “I believe its your turn, talí.”
Alec’s face changed almost instantly, his mouth forming a tempting O shape. Seregil’s eyes laid on Alec’s still hard cock and he licked his lips. Alec shuddered. Without a word, Seregil pushed him onto his back.
He kissed him gently on the lips, cupping his cheek. Alec bristled at its tenderness, obviously desiring something less demure. Seregil was more than happy to oblige him.
He held Alec’s jaw as he roughly pushed his tongue between his parted lips. Alec hummed deeply in satisfaction as he kissed him with equal fervor, tangling his hands in dark hair.
Seregil teased Alec’s bottom lip with his teeth, drawing out soft moans against his mouth.
Seregil withdrew to kiss down his chest, his tongue circling a pale nipple. Alec gasped, his hips twitching upwards. Alec’s skin was smooth and sun browned with the occasional scar or eczema. Seregil ran his hands up his sides slowly as his lips traveled down.
“You’re so beautiful, talí. I love you more than words can convey.” He gently kissed his thigh as Alec stared down at him through heavy lidded eyes. “You’re everything.”
“No talí.” His voice was low and strained. He shook his head as Seregil paused.. Alec rested his weight on his elbow for a moment, reaching out to touch Seregil’s cheek. “This is.”
Seregil’s heart thrummed against his chest. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Alec was going to be the death of him.
When words were unattainable, his body spoke on his behalf. He wrapped his arms around Alec, awkwardly but determined, almost knocking him over. Alec did his best to return the embrace.
“I love you more than words can convey.” Alec repeated, voice hushed and hoarse. Seregil’s chest felt heavy.
_Thank you, talí._ |
da9e41eb39224bfc89e85c9c409b4928 | ['2fdaa23b27e24ed582a759ee81fcf7dd'] | “I just can’t risk it Rox. I’d rather have the both of them as friends than be rejected for the freak I am or bein’ forced to choose,” Eggsy took a big gulp of his drink.
“But–”
“Can we please just talk about anythin’ else,” Eggsy begged her, finally looking at her in the eye.
Roxy sighed and nodded, mentally bracing herself for their continued pining.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
A couple of weeks later, Roxy and Eggsy were on a joint mission that went tits up. It was supposed to be a simple infiltration – Roxy was to head for the computers on one side of the building and Eggsy to the safe on the other. However, somehow, the intel they had received on the security was wrong, causing Eggsy to be ambushed by a dozen men armed to the teeth. Eggsy was able to subdue half of the men before Roxy arrived to help, but due to the close quarters he found himself in, didn’t walk away without injury. Other than the obvious bruises from fists and feet, it wasn’t until the two agents were on the plane and adrenaline had faded did Eggsy realize he had received a knife wound to his side.
So, as soon as they got back to HQ, Eggsy was rushed into medical, having passed out sometime on the flight back, despite Roxy doing the best she could to treat his injuries on the, luckily, short flight. Roxy was unsurprised to find Harry and Merlin already worriedly waiting in medical when she arrived. It wasn’t for another few hours did they find out that Eggsy would pull through but wouldn’t wake for another few hours. Relieved Eggsy was okay, Roxy saw her chance to force them all to confront their pining, and told them, “It is going to be of no use to Eggsy if I pass out while waiting for him to wake up so I am going to sleep. Let me know when he is awake”, before walking away.
Merlin and Harry watched her walk away, mildly surprised, before making their way into Eggsy’s room. Silently, they sat on either side of the young man on the bed, neither liking how small Eggsy looked.
After a minute of just watching Eggsy chest – relief pouring through his body as he saw each breath – Merlin glanced up at Harry and saw the worry he felt reflected on Harry’s face, reminding him that he wasn’t the only one who had feelings for Eggsy. That he wasn’t the only one who would be absolutely broken if Eggsy didn’t return from a mission one day. Slightly hysterically, Merlin realized that the day Eggsy didn’t come back, was the day that Kingsman would be in chaos.
Unknowingly to Merlin, Harry was having similar thoughts. Taking comfort in the beeping from the heart monitor, Harry took Eggsy’s hand in his – needing to feel its warmth to remind him that Eggsy was alive. He tore his gaze away from Eggsy’s pale face to glance up at Merlin. The man was lost in thought, eyes focused on Eggsy chest. He knew Merlin felt the same way about Eggsy as he did. That Merlin was barely keeping his head above water every time Eggsy was in the hospital. He dreaded the day that the two of them drowned, not only because that would mean Eggsy hadn’t made it back – which he absolutely refused to think about – but because two of the most powerful people in Kingsman would be even more useless than they were right now.
Both of them continued to sit in silence, wrapped up in their relief that Eggsy would be okay, until, after a minute, Merlin broke the silence, “Ye should tell him how ye feel.”
Harry stared at his friend in shock, “What?”
Merlin rolled his eyes slightly, “I’ve seen the way ye look at him, Harry. I know ye have feelings for him.”
“So do you, Merlin. You look at him the same way.”
“But I am nae the one he returns feelings for. I see the way he looks at ye.”
“With the way he looks at _me_? What about the way he looks at _you_? He looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Merlin frowns, “What? He looks at ye like that, nae me.”
Harry frowns, about to respond, when understanding finally comes to both of them. They both sat there speechless, trying to wrap their minds around it, the steady rhythm of the heart monitor the loudest sound in the room.
This time, Harry broke the silence, “We both like him.”
“Aye.”
“And he likes both of us.”
“It would seem that way, yes.”
After another moment, Harry hesitantly asks, “You don’t… ah…”
Merlin easily picked up his train of thought, “God, no. Harry, after all of these years I love ye, but nae like that.”
“Oh, thank god,” Harry breathes a sigh in relief, “I feel the same.”
Another pause, Merlin says, “I dinnae want to ask the lad to choose. It’s nae fair to him. Nor do I want this to come between us.”
“Agreed,” Harry nodded.
“…What if we shared?”
Harry blinked, surprised, but thought about it. If it was anybody else asking, he didn’t think he would agree. He was a bit possessive. And so was Merlin, he knew. But he and Merlin had known each other for decades, had trusted each other for decades. He could see no reason not to trust each other with this, when they have both already try and step aside, trusting Eggsy’s happiness with the other.
Harry nodded slowly, “I’m willing to try it if you are.”
Merlin nodded, having thought along the same lines as Harry, “We will have to work out some details as we go along, but I am willing to try it.” | 3447bfee4fb54e988dcc9a9f28438ed7 | ['2fdaa23b27e24ed582a759ee81fcf7dd'] | Beginnings
**Author's Note:**
> Hey guys! Thank you for deciding to try out this series! This first story is more of a oneshot than anything so it is extremely short, but all of the stories after this will have a considerable amount of more length to them. So, if you like it keep reading to the next story and I promise to update the series when I can. Enjoy!
For fifteen years, Michael Oliver Thomas was considered a respectable son of a respectable Earl. His family was well regarded due to the long line of sons and daughters, all considered respectable in their own rights. Not a single family member was ever considered anything but a perfect example of respectability. Until, after fifteen years of being a part of that respectability, Michael Oliver Thomas was the first of his family to be disowned.
Michael always thought the history of his ancestors was quite boring, anyways.
So, at the age of fifteen, Michael left his family home behind, carrying only a backpack of clothes, a minimal amount of cash, and a cell phone holding a single phone number. Using the small sum of cash, which he had previously earned through his own means, he was able to find a small flat with a job opportunity nearby, and within a month was adjusted to his new reality. It wasn’t until then, after Michael called the only phone number he had, in order to inform his sister – the only one in his family who hadn’t disowned him – that he was settled, did he let himself consider his new reality. A reality that consisted of a small dingy flat, a minimum wage job, and loneliness. But also, freedom. The freedom to be who he wanted to be, love who he wanted to love. The freedom to be a gay man who did not want to follow in his family’s footsteps.
For the first time in the year since he realized he liked boys and not girls, Michael truly smiled. In his dingy flat, working his minimum wage job, Michael felt more happiness in the last month than he ever had while stifled and surrounded by luxury.
It was then that Michael decided nothing – not his disownment and definitely not his sexuality – was ever going to stand in the way of him making the life he chose for himself. So, he did what he knew best and planned.
He planned to finish school, join the army, and then start a career for himself in London. For the next four years, Michael did better in school than he ever had, passing the GCSE in a year and earning a bachelors in three, while simultaneously working two jobs to support himself. At nineteen, he joined army, easily adjusting to the strict schedule enforced. Three months in and Michael found he was his most calm behind the scope of a rifle. At six months, he was one of the best snipers in the British Army. Nearly a year after first joining, a man in a suit made him a job offer.
With a small readjustment to his plans, he took the offer and, three months before turning twenty-one, Michael Oliver Thomas accepted the position of Percival. |
3b61043f47154f64bc59822de9749dda | ['3042baaf3949400199f2af99e6ae542f'] | "I am glad you asked Kookie", Jimin smiled brightly and took the spoon from the younger's hand and took a big scoop of the cereal. The brunette couldn't help but just stare dumbfounded at the redhead who seemed very amused and happy right now.
"Hey get your own", Jungkook whined and wanted to take the spoon away but Jimin just swiftly pushed his hand away, taking another spoon of cereal.
"Sharing means caring my sweet _Kookie_ , didn't they teach you that yet?"
"I don't mind sharing with my friends", Jungkook just snapped back.
"I am hurt. So we are not friends?", Jimin played dramatically a hand on his heart.
"No. You are just some creep I met on the internet that I can't get rid off", Jungkook reached again for the spoon but Jimin just held it behind his back and jungkook would have to get too close for comfort to get it.
"Some creep? Excuse you, but if anyone would be the creep in this scenario it'd be you", Jimin backfired.
"Whatever, we are not friends we will never be friends, I don't like you and I have class now so bye."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So this was it for today hope you liked it! Anyways sorry was a bit short but wanted to post something:)) Kisses xx
P.s. haven't yet proof read it so sorry for any like nonesense
P.p.s Feel free to add me on my socials where you can ask me questions or just stay updated;)
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4. Gingerbeans and boxes
Jungkook thought of himself as a patient man, I mean the friendship with Tae itself proved that already, that little spawn of satan who had drove him into this hell. He tried paying attention to class, but his thoughts always went back to the gingerbean. _Gingerbean_? He shook his head in disapproval, that almost sounded like a term of endearment. Ginger....He couldn't think of any insult nicknames. He exhaled frustrated, was he seriously now thinking of a way to call Jimin, whilst telling himself not to think of him? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. He didn't even realize class had ended until the guy next to him had stood up and was packing his bag.
He scribbled down the assignment that was written on the board and collected his stuff as well, running out, almost running Yoongi over whose glare turned into a surprised smile,"Oh hey Kook. Almost ran me over, just because you are getting taller doesn't mean you can ignore us, small people."
"Sorry hyung, how come you are on this floor, aren't the music studio's down below?"
The elder scratched his neck and Jungkook noticed that his ears had reddened a bit, but decided to brush it off.
"I just- I was talking to someone and just thought it would be nice of me to invite you to lunch after this, as your class is over anyway right?", he didn't seem as calm and collected as usual, his signature expressionless voice was missing.
"Oh I wish I could but unfortunately I was planning on working on my drawings now...", he felt sorry because yoongi almost never invited anyone for anything.
"Oh, can I see them?"
"No!", he panicked and noticed that sounded like he had something to hide, because the black-haired boy in front of him suddenly frowned," I mean they're not ready to be exposed to the world yet. I am sorry I got to go now, but we could go for dinner tonight?"
"Yeah sure", the elder was very pleasantly surprised holding a smile.
"Cool will you tell the others 8 o'clock the sushi bar?", Jungkook said whilst almost being around the corner, missing how his friend's smile fell to a disappointed look.
Jungkook was walking down the hallway of the art studios when he suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from a room on the opposite side of his studio. Jimin.
"No, just leave the box outside. I will get it.... No we have nothing to talk about.... No I already moved in with them", Jimin sounded tired, "Seung. Stop. Just leave the box please I will get it at some point this week, no you don't have to bring it like I said I will get it."
Jungkook couldn't help but wonder who this Seung was, from the sounds of it, he had lived with him maybe, was this his ex-boyfriend. He had been very surprised that Jimin lived with his 'boyfriend' as he had said when he introduced himself a few days ago. He had been on this catastrophic date with Jungkook if you could call it that, and then it would've taken him some time to meet someone let alone already move in together. He quickly shook his head so hard, he was afraid he would get whiplash, none of his concern. Jimin could do whatever the hell he wants. He doesn't give two shits. With that clear in mind, he wanted to proceed to go to his room when he heard a faint sniffle now. Was jimin?...no...was he... _crying_.
Stuck between his door and Jimin's, he was rooted to the floor metaphorically speaking, god he hated his conscious, but at the same time he was never good at comforting people, let alone people he strongly disliked and that disliked him. He couldn't help him and that was just proven when the music from the room began playing again, quite loudly, but this time Jungkook didn't barge in to tell him to turn it louder, Jimin probably needed this to calm himself. | f113683d7d5745c4b1d96a895780f2f1 | ['3042baaf3949400199f2af99e6ae542f'] | "Jungkook? Everything okay?", jimin looked at him in concern, scootching closer", you don't look so good how are you feeling?"
"I feel weird", Jungkook just said, looking down his skin felt like it was bruning and all he wanted to do was reach out to touch Jimin's smooth skin as if it could cool him down.
Jimin nodded,"Listen Kookie", Jungkook looked up he felt a bit delirious as he focused on Jimin's face, his pale skin, plump pink lips and..."...kookie. Did you just hear me?"
"Nope", Jungkook popped the 'p' and chuckled as he let his head fall backwards exhaling deeply.
"Jungkook look at me", Jimin grabbed the others face so he would pay attention and he did, "Listen this is the fullmoon, okay? It's stronger on you since you are kind of close to a reaper and they are the most affected by it, more than us. It is bringing out your animalistic side I guess you could say, it drives reapers to kill but since you are not a reaper it just makes you all fogged up and stronger."
Jungkook nodded slowly clicking his tongue, he did feel foggy, but calm,"you smell good."
Jimin blinked more than taken back and Jungkook was surprised himself but it had slipped out before he could stop himself.
"What? Kookie you are not yourself right now", Jimin said his cheeks having a slight pink tint to them, making him look even squishier than usual. Before he could stop himself the purple haired jumped onto Jimin holding him down with his weight squishing his cheeks.
"So squishy", Jungkook chuckled feeling the soft fat of the other cheeks. Jimin just looked up unsure what to do apparently but squirmed slightly but Jungkook seemed stronger right now, as he pinched Jimin he felt the sudden desire to pinch harder.
"Jungkook!", the purple haired stopped in his tracks," You are not yourself... Listen to me, we need to get you some blood and then you need to rest."
"You smell so so...so good", Jungkook leaned down and sniffed slightly the pink haired's neck who shuddered surprised.
"J-jungkook you are not-"
"Myself I know you said that", Jungkook whispered, he didn't recognise his voice it sounded silky," But I do think you smell good all the time."
"Really?", Jimin asked curious and Jungkook hovered now slightly above the others face.
"Of course", Jungkook smiled down and found Jimin's lips looked so soft aswell, he really wanted to feel them....
"What are you doing?", Jimin asked his voice slightly pitchier when Jungkook's nose bumped against his, Jimin's breath tickled his lips making him want to close the distance even more.
"Isn't it obvious?", Jungkook replied.
"I mean...Yes but Jungkook this isn't...this isn't what you want", Jimin looked slightly sad.
"Right now it is", the other licked his lips and stopped any protests by connecting their lips. Jimin's breath hitched but even though reluctantly he kissed back.
Completely entranced by the feeling Jungkook deepened the kiss, licking into Jimin's mouth who dug his fingers into the others scalp. It felt exhilarating, inhaling Jimin's sweet scent and having him under him, Jungkook slowly grinded down, groaning at the desperately needed friction. Jimin mewled into his mouth when he softly bit into his plump lips.
"We shouldn't", Jimin pushed him slightly away out of breath.
"Isn't it what you want?", Jungkook lifted his chin up into another feverish kiss pressing his body even closer to the others.
"Not like this", Jimin had put in all his strength and pushed the other off," You are not yourself and I know you are going to hate me so much more if I let you do this."
"But I want to", Jungkook was about to step forward, but Jimin held up a hand.
"I am sorry about this", Jimin said and Jungkook could only open his mouth before he dropped to the ground," Jin I was about to handle it."
"Clearly", Jin scoffed who looked down at the purple haired," Come on let me get this big baby upstairs."
Jimin nodded as he grabbed Jungkook's legs and Jin his arms, Jungkook's hair was all ruffled and his lips slightly swollen, Jimin was sure he looked about the same.
"What...?", Taehyung and Yoongi stood in the entrance hall next to the stairs.
"Full moon", Jin just said as if that explained everything, Namjoon had joined them and motioned Jimin that he'd carry him, so the pink haired let go and walked over to Taehyung and Yoongi, who's eyes were following the knocked out half-vampire who got carried up.
"I'll bring him some blood, see you in a bit", Tae kissed Yoongi on the cheek when he followed after the others.
"So what happened?", the raven now looked at Jimin with a calm expression.
"Nothing he just got very influenced by the moon", Jimin shrugged but his lips tingled thinking back to their brief make out session.
"Looks like you didn't mind", Yoongi said in slight snarky tone making Jimin frown annoyed.
"Excuse me?"
"Come on, I can see your sex-hair", Yoongi folded his arms in front of his chest not bothering to hide his judgemental tone anymore.
"First of all we didn't have sex I stopped him. Second of all maybe you should back off a little bit and take care of your own two mates rather than getting mine", both held each other's glares.
"Here's a fun fact for you Jimin. He isn't your mate yet, just because Joon told you he'd be doesn't mean you can just claim him", the raven said in his cold voice.
Jimin sucked in air,"stay away from him."
"Or what?", Yoongi was never one who liked to be told what to do.
"What's going on here?", both turned around to Hoseok standing at the top of the stairs. Jimin tried to conceal his thoughts as best as he could. |
325761a408994dc799abd486f286cf53 | ['305cb4a06eb844d8aa9ddb39441589de'] | “It’s just a lot. Seeing you with...and everything. It’s... I didn’t think it would feel like this,” he exhales shakily, his breathing settling down as he stops crying. It feels like years of bottled up crying have just burst out.
Jose is looking at him so kind and pitying, realization dawning.
It’s so embarrassing.
“Aww boo. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. If I’da known you was feelin some type a way about us still I never woulda told you to come like this tonight. I wouldn’t’ve… Shit. I thought you was over it a long time ago,” Jose is frowning, concern and confusion on his face and his eyes are so kind and so pretty.
All his attention is on Brock, finally, but not in the right way.
A breeze ruffles his fur coat and earring. His dark nipples pucker from chill on his bare chest and Brock looks away, quickly, so he’s not caught staring.
He’s so cute. Brock has a weakness, a soft spot, for cute. For sweetness.
It’s how he found himself making out with Nina West (so not his usual type) twice, why they’re the best of friends to this day. It’s one of the things that kept him with Jose for three-nearly-four months in the first place, trying to live up to the boyfriend Jose hoped he’d be, when it all felt so scary and new and uncomfortable. Brock’s fiercely protected sensitive heart wants sweetness, goes goey for cute things.
When he’s on Grindr Brock likes to think he’s into tough manly men, picks up ripped guys with beards and full body tattoos who make him feel delicate when they fuck, even though he’s 6’3 and could crush someone with his thighs.
His sense of humor is sarcastic, sometimes even cutting, he often comes across cold, and the guys he follows on Instagram and Only Fans are a collection of jacked masculine beefcakes.
But secretly Brock is a Disney Princess inside and his heart melts and swoons for cuteness.
Jose is possibly the most objectively cute human who has ever lived, yet somehow still completely boyish and rough around the edges in a way that makes Brock want to call him Papi and get on his knees for him, makes him want to curl into his side and lay his head on his shoulder, makes him feel like no matter how many times he comes inside him he’s the one getting fucked. Jose is a perfect storm of attractive for both parts of his psyche, his dick and his heart.
It kills Brock that he’s so trade and so cute right in front of him and he can’t do anything about it.
He used to be able to touch Jose whenever he wanted. Even when they were just friends.
His hands itch to grab Jose’s jaw, to run his fingers over his cheekbones, his thumbs over his lips, his lips across his forehead. He wants to pull him close by his silver chain, trace his fingertips down his sides, lick his chest tattoo, bite his nipples, kiss down his abs. He wants to get on his knees and undo that belt with his teeth.
He wants to kiss the freckle at the top of Jose’s smooth soft ass cheek. He knows it’s there under Jose’s tight jeans, can never unknow it, and it’s incomprehensible to him not to have lifetime access to that freckle because he always thought of it as _his_.
He wants to kiss Jose’s pouty mouth, shining with lipbalm in the streetlight. _Oh he wants._ It’s the only thing he wants in the world right now.
There was a time he could have done any of that, any time he wanted. Now he can’t. It’s claustrophobic.
Never mind that he’s being so embarrassingly unsexy Jose will feel like nothing more than a mother duck towards him after this. If he’s lucky.
“Sorry, I must look so disgusting, crying all over you like this. Ugggg,” Brock looks to the night sky in exasperation with himself.
“Don’t play, you know damn well you fine as hell, even with you eyes all puffy,” Jose does an exaggerated eye roll.
The familiarity of it makes Brock smile.
“And don’t be makin me tell you how fine you are no more, I’m a married woman, bitch!” Jose wags his finger at him playfully, leaning in and looking up at him hopefully, trying to get him to smile.
Brock can’t help giving him a smile when he’s looking at him like that.
He feels the absence of Jose giving him a pleased kiss on the cheek like he would have for a smile before.
“We should catch up proper, get a coffee. Lemme see what I can do this week,” Jose gets out his phone and starts looking through his calendar for things he can move around with infinite kindness and Brock is hit with feeling humbled at how thoughtful he’s being and ashamed at how silly he feels.
“No it’s okay. You’re really busy. Don’t worry about me. It’s fine, honestly. It was just a shock. I think it just hit me.” Brock pulls at the ends of his jacket sleeves, watching his finger tattoos disappear in and out of them.
“Yeah?” Jose says thoughtfully, as though the fact that Brock is just now realising they are definitely over is a mystery to him.
“You don’t have to make time for me. I’m fine,” Brock gives himself a shake.
He tries to pull himself together like he’s about to go on stage, tries to draw his Brooke Lynn ice queen mask on but it’s not quite coming and his voice cracks as he tries to speak.
“Go back inside, enjoy your night. It’s my own fault. It’s...”
“Don’t say that,” Jose says softly.
Brock knows Jose is exceptionally sweet and thoughtful, has bragged to people about it, but it still floors him how kindly and graciously he’s handling this. | fb4cf19e11a940c9b228f8fa39747f52 | ['305cb4a06eb844d8aa9ddb39441589de'] | Brock leans urgently over to rescue the plastic ring from the bar before it falls on the ground and gets stepped on. He’s not sure why it’s so important to him to save it but it is.
///
Jose tries to keep his eyes on the stage and his vibe like he doesn’t care but his attention keeps getting pulled to Brock and his crestfallen forlorn face, which lingers since he threw that dumb ninety nine cent ring away.
They started the night so jazzed and excited, an absolute mutual mood. Happy to be able to get up in each other’s personal space for the first time in weeks. He was feeling himself, feeling the potential in the air, feeling Brock’s eyes watch him, as he shook his fine ass, knowing how good he looked tonight. Brock laughed at every single thing he said and he was hyper aware of each laugh, smiling proudly despite himself.
But then he had to go and ruin the jush with that ring shit. Jose was as much of a sweetheart as he could be at all times but Brock was playin if he thought he could give him a pretend little kiddy ring all sweet and oblivious and have it be well received after everything.
It was actually a very fucking cute little gesture, Brock clearly remembers well the type of shit he likes, which made it sting even fucking worse. Is he really that stupid or is he actually trying to make him tear up in the middle of tour karaoke?
Jose tries to enjoy his night, does a couple more numbers, flirts with a cute white boy in a group near the front to try take his mind off it.
Brock's face has fallen further every time he subtly checks on him.
As he’s handing the mic off he sees Brock at the back, heading out the door, and his feet are following him out before his brain catches up to stop them.
Outside Brock is standing at the curb looking at his phone.
“Thought you quit smoking?” Jose says as Brock looks up at him, surprised.
“I did. I’m heading back,” he says quietly, waving his phone.
"It's early bitch! Come on Canada. Thursday night!" Jose smiles encouragingly, hanging out the door of the bar. After all the suspense he's not ready for him to leave and the night be over yet. Brock just shrugs.
“Feel like an early night."
Both of them are fully aware neither of them is buying that. He was as hyped as the rest of them earlier.
He still looks noticeably sad and Jose knows it’s his fault and is way too empathetic for his own good.
He also knows how he can fix it.
It might not be a good idea but he was probably kidding himself if he didnt think that’s where tonight was ending up anyway. He was gonna make a good show of trying to resist it, for his own sanity if nothing else, but that doesn’t matter now.
Brock has made him sadder than this on multiple occasions but Jose just doesn't have it in him to hold his ground when the tables are turned.
He lets the door close behind him, gets up close to Brock and grabs his free hand, linking their fingers.
“Don’t go yet. We was having fun,” he purrs, soft and welcoming.
Brock’s eyes flick from his phone to their hands to Jose’s face, surprised.
He’s still got that wounded rejected thing going on but as Jose blinks up at him it shifts quickly. His eyes start to sparkle and he leans in, wary but hopeful.
“I thought you didn’t wanna play with me,” Brock pouts, but it's sincere concern, not bratty.
“I never said that.”
Jose gets fully up in his space and slides his hands in Brock’s back pockets. His eyebrows shoot up but he doesn’t stop him.
Jose finds what he’s looking for and retreats, holding the plastic ring out to him.
“If you gonna be lookin all sad about it then gimme the damn ring bitch.”
He gives it to Brock and holds his hand out like an elegant woman. His left one because if he wants to play then _fine, let’s play._
“I’m not looking _all sad,_ ” Brock argues indignantly.
Jose raises his eyebrows and pops his tongue.
“Fine. A little sad,” Brock consents, starting to smile mischievously.
It makes Jose want to slap him a little, because beneath everything he’s still mad, but it makes him want to kiss him more, because beneath that he’s still in love. Or at least in _something._
The air between them gets super charged as Brock takes his hand, grins at him like they share a secret - who knows what the fuck he thinks that is but he looks so pleased Jose doesn't have the heart to ask. He slips the plastic ring on his ring finger, and smiles softly at Jose’s hand as he looks at it there.
"Vanessa Vanjie Isabella Mateo Hytes," he says softly, his smile playful.
Jose wiggles his fingers, rolls his eyes, and gives in to the smile that wants to spread itself on his face. If only Brock wasn’t so damn cute when he was pleased with himself.
Their eyes meet and within three seconds so do their mouths. His arms go around Brock’s neck, pulling him closer and Brock’s go to his hips, pulling him into him, then backing them both into the brick wall of the bar.
Brock’s tongue in his mouth is deliciously familiar. His big hands knead the sides of Jose’s ass as he grips his hips, making him sigh and moan, which in turn makes Brock grab him harder. |
dcf453570fd247b39b65e645b14e6383 | ['305e1535d3ac47e0885fa125002b8f7a'] | Cosima gets stoned
Cosima Gets Stoned
Just before Delphine got home, Cosima's apartment in Toronto was baked in the stench of cannibis smoke. Cosima had baked herself a chocolate cake even though it was neither her or her girlfriend's birthday. Cosima was in her underwear, despite the fact it was cold outside. She was watching her favorite show, Spongebob Squarepants, because it is very funny to watch when stoned. She then took another breath out of the bong.
On the screen, Spongebob and Patrick had found a new way to annoy Squidward. Spongebob said "You know what Patrick, Squidward is scared of sea cougars." Squidward then said, "There is no such thing as sea cougars. They are as made up as Harry Potterfish is." Cosima broke out laughing saying "I once hooked up with a cougar once, she was great in bed, but I could keep the "crazy science"up after that." Cosima took another bite of the cake as the sea cougar, which was a fish with a cougar's head, mauled Squidward.
Delphine then came home and smelled cannibis smoke. The tall blonde woman was not surprised at all at what was going on. Delphine told herself"this smells a bit like my art class did", and she then found Cosima, half naked and eating a whole chocolate cake for no reason. Delphine yelled "Cosima, what do you think you are doing? You are high and claiming you were bleeding when you weren't." Cosima initially ignored her until Delphine grabbed the remote, turning the surreal cartoon off.
Cosima said "Just being myself, and why do we need to wear that much clothing indoors anyway. Also,I just felt I needed a day off" Delphine then said "It is cold out there and you are going to freeze if you don't put on a sweater. Cosima you are going to get sick if you eat that much " Cosima then shouted "I'm hungry." Delphine then told her, giggling "Cosima, why don't we go out to eat at the nearby Korean place? Cosima then reluctantly agreed, got dressed and put the cake in the refrigerator. Delphine then agreed, and turned on the vents to get the smoke out. Neither Cosima or Delphine turned off the television, and the cartoon had been turned up loud enough to wake up a neighbour's cat.
The End | 452ca0990c434b51bc5ad53214538a03 | ['305e1535d3ac47e0885fa125002b8f7a'] | Atlanta Nights at the Sanchez's
Atlanta Nights at the Sanchez's
Note: I have never actually read this "book", given it never got properly published, but know a bit from reading about it online.
Rick Sanchez had just slain a monster in a parallel universe where Blockbuster had survived when they found "Atlanta Nights: the movie" on DVD to rent. Rick brought home this movie to Morty and said "Morty: you won't believe it, they made an Atlanta Nights movie." Morty said, "what's that?" Rick then replied, "It is an unpublished book written by science fiction authors to be bad on purpose, with a mix of badly written sex scenes, plot and character inconsistencies, factual errors and other ways on how not to write a book." Morty asked "does it have penguins?" Rick said "Yes, it has penguins, but they are Sahara desert penguins that howl."
Morty then popped in the DVD into the DVD player. The story then started with Penelope Urbain, who was inexplicably played by Sigourney Weaver, asking for wine from a bartender whose brother had graduated law school and got certified by the state of Georgia in just a year. She planned to impress a guy by playing a very nonsensical and bizarre playlist as a DJ. The list included songs from Sleater Kinney's country album, Lisa Loeb's death metal phase, and a weird collaboration between Beyonce and Jeff Tweedy.
Penelope talked to Steven Stuffern, played by Chris Coifer from Glee, after hearing these songs and asked him "Do you like steak?", conveniently forgetting she was a vegetarian. He said "Yes, I like steak because it provides lots of protein." Penelope said "I know, right? Steven later asked her what kind of animal she'd want to eat as steak and she said "mammoth", not realizing the elephant-like beasts are extinct.
Morty decided to turn it off, angering Rick, in 15 minutes. Rick said "this is the greatest movie ever made in all the wrong ways." Morty then screamed "Everything in that movie is wrong. First, Chris Coifer and Sigourney Weaver have zero chemistry. Second, they get many basic facts completely wrong and third-..." Rick interrupted him and said, "if you hate this movie so much, why did you watch it." Morty decided to somehow trick Rick into going back to that Blockbuster by saying "They have the Star Wars Prequels and they are even worse than the real ones". Rick reluctantly decided to go and they returned them. Rick and Morty returned home, albeit Morty found the CD case of Tegan and Sara's hip hop album. |
9a2cee44490d43c699ee8c5ee89eb2f0 | ['30690a919836466bba6ae6e239456dec'] | I sit on his bed, which is just the twin size, only enough room for the two of us to sit criss crossed next to each other. “You can stay the night,” Neil tells me as he organizes some random display of baseball cards in the corner of his room, which I assume is just him trying to distract himself. I couldn’t imagine a comfortable position in which we two would be able to sleep here in the same bed, and I hope that by the end of the night I can curl up on a couch instead. “I brought this,” I mumble, my voice higher in pitch than I would have preferred, pulling out the small bottle from my backpack. Neil grins. “Shit, Brian, getting a little big for your britches? You sure you can handle that?” I recognize that he’s teasing me and roll my eyes. “I’ve drank before. It’s no matter whether or not you decide to drink with me or not.” To prove further that I’m worthy of being tough or cool or whatever my brain is urging me to be, I unscrew the cap and take a big swig from it. The lukewarm liquid burns my throat immediately and my stomach turns in the heat. That wasn’t very wise, I think to myself. Neil McCormick seems to eat this kind of behavior up, and with a grin, he grabs the bottle from my hands and takes an even bigger swig than I did. I feel a tingling in my fingers and my stomach when I think about how I’ve impressed him, even in the slightest.
About an hour later and the both of us are pretty wasted, the now empty plastic bottle discarded on the wooden floor, and we’re watching some cheesy slasher flick showing on the small tv in the middle of the room. Neil cheers when the annoying main character finally gets her head chopped off, and I find it both childlike and charming. There are so many aspects of Neil McCormick that contradict each other, and yet so many aspects of his body and face that just go perfectly together, the straight eyebrows, the feminine curve of his hips, the lopsided and upturned smirk, the colbalt blue eyes. With this thought, I sit up straight with a start and realize two things: One, I am irrevocably drunk. Two, I might have become infatuated with Neil McCormick. I meet this realization with little shock or embarrassment, rather I acknowledge it and recognize that it was probably an inevitable, what with the whole crying on his lap in the old house of the man who stole my childhood thing. Or maybe it’s a Stockholm Syndrome thing. My brain strains itself too hard trying to think, so instead I turn to Neil and smile. “This is a good movie,” I slur with a faint chuckle, and he nods absentmindedly. In what I can only assume is a rare moment of vulnerability, he rests his head on my shoulder, eyes glued to the screen.
4. full-of-shit therapists
**NEIL MCCORMICK**
“My therapist likes you,”
It’s just about one of the weirdest things anyone's ever said to me. I furrow my brows and squint my eyes at the geek sitting in front of me (a voice in my head notes how calling him a geek doesn’t erase the fact that I’ve abashadley taken a liking to him). He hiccups, the alcohol in his system apparent by how disheveled he looks. The heat in his cheeks turns them a faint rosy color, his hair messy from him tossing and turning on my bed, his eyes sort of glazed over and far away. “You seriously talk to your shrink about me,” I state in a mocking tone. I never believed in therapists, or how apparently they can cure you of all the bullshit in your life-- for a price. Emotional prostitution, that’s what it is, and I’d rather be the one making the money without the drama and soppy crap. Brian laughs self-deprecatingly and nods. “She says you’re the main part of my support system,” I take another swig of whiskey and laugh with him. “Sounds like she’s full of shit,”
Brian’s hands are unusually cold, I notice when I brush against them to grab the TV remote. I also notice how his right leg is shaking, his whole body, really. The little things about him that don’t surprise me but seem to fill my head up with him. Why did he come? I wonder to myself. It’s not like I minded having the guy around, in fact, I seemed to enjoy it more than I’d let on, but I figured he’d never want to see me again after Christmas. Guess I was wrong.
We talk. I tell him about Wendy, and her life in New York, and her petty drama. He tells me similar stories about his sister, Deborah. At the end of the night, we end up sharing my tiny ass bed, our bodies close enough to each other to take in our inhales, our exhales, our soft breaths as we try and try to fall asleep. Well, I guess Brian didn’t have to try, because he was out like a light as soon as he was horizontal. I, on the other hand, pretended to sleep for hours before finally opening my eyes and staring at my popcorn ceiling, accepting my fate of sleeplessness. A glance at Brian’s arm reveals a scattering of purple lines on his wrist where his sleeve rolled itself up to, and I wince. | 028b49477fec474cb3f71794fc0bfc1c | ['30690a919836466bba6ae6e239456dec'] |
1. drug-sucking vampires
**ERIC PRESTON**
The summer I was eight years old, I was living entirely off of Krispy Kreme donuts and the lukewarm coffee my mother would let me drink after she was ¾’s of the way done with it. Snacks were a big part of my childhood— my parents didn’t know how to entertain me 24/7, so when they were at a loss or simply too tired to, they’d run out and get me some munchies. Fruit snacks, teddy bear-shaped grahams, peanut butter and cheddar cracker sandwiches, whatever was convenient, available at the closest gas station, and required zero preparation became my daily fuel and cure for boredom.
I was homeschooled, not for creepy Catholic reasons or anything, just because my parents felt I wouldn’t like the environment. They were totally right in those regards. After their accident, I was forced to transfer to a tiny public school, and the adjustment was hell for me to cope with. A bunch of hormonal teenagers all crammed together in one building, forced to attend boring classes by law? Yeah, count me out.
Most of my childhood summers are a blur due to the stagnant lack of activity. Sure, I watched Gilligan’s Island reruns and helped my ma with her errands, I listened to the radio and searched for the “edgy” stations, but I wasn’t ever caught playing outside or with other kids my age.
Being an only child didn’t help the lack of socialization. My ma figured I was queer the third or fourth time she caught me playing in her makeup cabinet, smearing turquoise eyeshadow mixed with Vaseline on my lips and applying mascara under my eyes instead of on my lashes. In her defense, she did try and give me tips to look like less of a freakazoid when it came to makeup. Unfortunately, I fell in love with the unconventional, wacky type of looks.
I read about the New York club kid scene in an edition of Modesto Morning News and became even more enamored. The article, shoddily written and clearly biased to make the reader fear the group, told of the young “creatures of the night” who dressed extravagantly to go clubbing and abuse drugs. In bold, dripping text, the headline read, “Do you know what your children are doing at night?” The cheesy scare tactics used against the movement only made the enticement I felt grow stronger.
Reading about these people made me feel like how I was supposed to feel when reading scriptures from the Bible in Mass. I’m not exaggerating when I say it was a spiritual experience for me to discover, in black and white text, the ‘drug-sucking vampires of New York City’. My eyes scanned back and forth between the two small images that had been printed along with the article. One of a smiling drag queen, her eyebrows penciled on comically high atop her bald head, lips drawn huge, comparable to a lewd clown; She stood next to a woman clad entirely in reflective leather, her twin puffs of hair sticking out of the back. Another picture, a young man with lipstick smeared on his mouth, ridiculously long false eyelashes, a cropped top and a long skirt, his middle finger up and poorly censored.
That night, I lovingly cut out the article and duct taped it to the wall of my bedroom.
2. everclear and kool-aid
**WENDY PETERSON**
By the time I was 14 years old, I had already narrowly escaped a date rape incident. To lay out the delightful scene, there was a party being thrown down in an old abandoned barn right on the brink of Hutchison, and me, having nothing better to do but feed my fantasies of being a reckless teen party animal, dragged Neil along without so much as a formal invitation.
Of course being the girl with her arm around the town queer got me made fun of. I didn’t care, and I stuck my tongue out at anyone who gave me a weird look, middle finger ready to be exposed to every asshole in the vicinity. If only I could hang up pictures showing the faces of the countless jerks who’ve been on the receiving end of my rude gestures. The same dainty fingers found themselves grabbing hold of plastic cups filled with booze, half-smoked cigarettes, and groovy glass pipes filled of pot throughout the night. My mother thought I was spending the night at Neil’s, which wasn’t too far from the truth, as that’s where I planned to stay after getting bored of the party. Neil, as usual, was talking to Christopher Ortega in the corner, the other queer freak from school who’s apparently a hustler on the side. Just thinking of such a job made me queasy, and Neil’s apparent interest and fascination with the subject didn’t help my uneasiness subside. Neil says he’s done it before, sort of, and then the conversation ends because it becomes too uncomfortable for either of us to stand. Coach.
I set my drink down on the fireplace, which, of-fucking-course, was my big mistake. But who did I look like, someone who actually paid attention to the PSA’s and anti-drug commercials they drilled into our brains in health class?
There was a boy, suddenly, close to me, and I was soaking up all the attention I could get like a dry sponge. There was a boy, suddenly, and he said he bet I couldn’t chug the rest of my drink. There was a boy, suddenly, and with the sharp taste of Everclear and Kool-Aid burning and numbing my throat, he took my hand and led me upstairs. |
ba28257bd1e244f28fbd7853c5b92f80 | ['3083aef5af614301a05b4f5a761d658b'] | "Now, Mr Potter, I have insisted you call me Dolores, we are neighbours after all". The two maintained eye contact, Harry shifting on the stairs, affected by the awkward atmosphere and he had to admire the woman a little - he'd never met a woman so capable of making him uncomfortable, not even his 'beloved' aunt had that pleasure, she was far too detached to ignite the level of discomfort dear Dolores did. They'd had the Dolores-Ms Umbridge conversation before, and each time Harry ignored it - to her face, her given name was given plenty of use with a healthy dose of sarcasm when in enjoyable company. The silence continued, the silent challenge between them stretched on as Harry glanced from her clothing to the door, to anything in sight, and finally, the green-eyed man couldn't take the tension for a moment longer.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Oh, nothing especially, you see I've just received the most wonderful present." She smiled sweetly at him and Harry hated himself for breaking because now they were having a conversation that he really would rather do without. He'd rather do without any interaction with the older woman, but she seemed to have a talent for finding him no matter how much effort he put in to evade her.
"You see, my darling employer Cornelius - I did tell you about him didn't I, Mr Potter?" That was a particular tactic of hers, mention her 'darling Cornelius' in any conversation and it was almost guaranteed she'd get what she was grasping for. It was infuriating.
"You mean Mr Fudge? The man you secretary for?" Her smile was sickly in its sweetness.
"Yes, dear Cornelius. He's been rather stressed in his position on the council and said that without my invaluable help he surely would have had a lot of difficulties." Harry didn't know what Mr Fudge did on the council, but it was usually enough to sway people to 'dear Dolores'' way of thinking, with her being his secretary.
"She doesn't like strangers and the poor sweetheart has been crying for days, but as you're associated with darling Mr Riddle and his frightful creature, you should know what to do. All my previous have settled quite quickly but she seems to be the delicate type." The green-eyed man had no idea where this conversation had gone, he understood presents but "she"? Had Fudge given her a child? Could the council do that? He knew he was a married man, but married men do have their little indiscretions, Dolores present may have even resulted from one.
"I'm sorry, Ms Umbridge, what are you talking about?" Not a child, he prayed, he was sure only Umbridge would liken cats with babies, especially with Voldemort - they were loud, they made a mess, and the black-haired man was sure he was being approached because, since the Christmas incident, Tom had thoroughly fallen out of Dolores' favour.
"Why, my present, Mr Potter. She's a true darling, a Purebred Peterbald I'm told, it's no wonder she's such a fragile thing being worth so much money." Purebred? Peterbald? Those were not names he associated with children, were they smuggling terms? Was this a racial kind of thing? Harry prided himself on being in control when it came to dealing with Dolores, but in this case, he was in way over his head.
"What ... exactly... was your gift from Mr Fudge?" Not a child, not a child, not a child-
Umbridge's lips curled upwards in a satisfied smile, and Harry knew that this would not be good for him.
"A cat, Mr Potter. My gift was an expensive, purebred cat."
\----------
"A Peterbald? What sort of cat is that?" Tom sat slouched across his leather sofa, and Harry took a moment to appreciate how comfortable Tom had become in his company. It was a shame it wasn't the summer, the possibility of another look at the dark-eyed man in his underclothes left Harry slightly breathless. He shook himself as Tom lifted a green cup to his lips, raising an eyebrow.
"A Peterbald is... well, a bald, wrinkly cat," Harry's face twisted as it googled the gremlin-like creature on his phone, but his face quickly lit up at what he stumbled upon. "Well, well, well. Dear Dolores' "darling" Mr Fudge has been naughty." The green-eyed man knelt on the arm of the sofa, leaning the phone over to Tom's face as he showed him the article he was reading. Tom's face didn't brighten or grin like Harry's but in typical Tom fashion, the corner of his mouth lifted and twisted into a mocking smirk, the kind that made bats swoop in Harry's stomach.
"£1000? For that furless goblin?" He taunted, "clearly that man has more money than sense."
"Depending on the breeder, and the purity of the breed, it can cost more. I've just seen one for sale at £3500, what people will buy to express their vanity," the black-hair man snorted. He kept scrolling through pages of cat information - the best foods, grooming - for ones with fur- activity, until his eyes came across something he found very interesting.
"Hey, Tom, I think I've found the answer to Voldemorts' screaming." At this, Tom sat up, set his tea down on the coffee table, and reached for Harry's outstretched phone. He took a few minutes scrolling through the information before glancing up to his potential love interest -and if he was honest with himself, it was more than just "potential", and grimaced.
"So, he's ... horny. He do we solve that?" Tom absentmindedly reached out for his tea, shuddering at the thought of Voldemort craving that kind of attention. Harry beamed, his unfortunate meetings with the Umbridge woman had finally borne fruit. | 3e6945de8d544131b1a8263b2103dc4c | ['3083aef5af614301a05b4f5a761d658b'] |
1. The Kitchen - White Calla Lilies and Butterfly Weed
**Author's Note:**
> Hi!
> I'm trying something different from a oneshot this time, and am going to attempt a longer more plotty story!
> Sorry in advance if it's no good :)
>
> Disclaimer: None of these characters belongs to me, I just like to read and write about them!
For as long as he could remember, Tom would have strange dreams, dreams being a loose term as they were events that occurred and were witnessed after he fell asleep. They began suddenly, shortly after the incident with Billy's pe(s)t rabbit, and Tom remembered being quite troubled by the experience, he'd written them off as dreams at first - he was a seven-year-old boy, and it was expected that he would dream, but there was something about them that was just odd. For one, the subject of his visions - Tom loathed using the term 'dreams' for something he considered to be so serious, he deemed it to be silly and puerile- never changed. It took many restless nights to discover it, but he had learnt that every vision he received while he slept all had connections to a child Tom had never had the yet unknown pleasure of knowing. This was one of the reasons he believed that the images he saw at night were not altogether conventional.
Tom considered himself a logical child, he had trouble understanding the whims and actions of the emotion led children he resided with; he had tried imitating them once when he was very young, while the child still had imaginings of life outside Wool's Orphanage, secure in a household and loved. But Tom was an intelligent creature, unusually so, and he watched as prospective families came to him, only to be drawn to the laughing, ebullient urchins; not even his cherubic face had won in his favour against his brooding, calculating nature.
And so, Tom had smiled. He had laughed and skipped and beamed at those who had come to choose a child suitable for their home, but even then they were wary - they watched him from the corner of their eyes, they whispered and pointed at him, shuffling away when he turned to look. It had never bothered Tom before, he knew that it was human nature to fear what they couldn't understand, and there was just something about him that didn't quite fit. He was different, he was clever, and that to them was something to fear. But when he had tried, when he repressed his racing mind and tried so hard to be like them, it had hurt. He'd to be loveable in the eyes of caregivers, in the eyes of those who could give him a better life - he invested in the inane activities the other children did like running and yelling for no reason, and yet they still found him lacking. They still scorned him.
But Tom remembered every face. The genius child remembered every face he'd seen, from those hurrying past the rusted gates not sparing those within them a single thought, to those who visited and left with a wailing child in tow. Tom had never met this child before, and he doubted his mind had the capacity for the imagination needed to invent it. Strange things happened to him, around him, and he sometimes caused them to happen. There was no doubt in his cynical mind that these visions were somehow connected to his otherness.
Tom was broken from his musing by suddenly being plunged into darkness. Lights out, it was no wonder Tom hadn't noticed, no one entered his room when they could help it. As soon as his strangeness had made itself known he'd been removed from the room he'd shared with that dreadful girl who stole his socks and to one of his own, with the light switch just beside the door. No one would need to enter the room, they just needed to slip an arm in and reach it. Tom didn't mind. He found the 'lights out' conversation tedious and unnecessary - the usual questions beggarly orphans were frequent to ask - Will someone come tomorrow? Will I be adopted tomorrow? ... Will someone take me away from here tomorrow?
Tom sighed, a sigh too weary for someone so young, and got into bed. It was November and bitterly cold, all inhabitants of Wool's had taken to wearing that day's clothing to bed as an added protection from the icy hands of winter that gripped them. Shuddering in the darkness, the small boy curled under his tattered blanket. Slowly his shuddering gave way to his slumber.
\------------
Tom found himself in a kitchen. Sunlight trickled through the fragile lace curtains at the window, and everywhere around him was luminous. The white surfaces gleamed, a tall white box hummed next to him, a table in front of him with dainty lace doilies and a - rather ugly- pink vase sat in the centre holding a small bouquet of flowers. |
3bd726f1219347d1a5f2f28c19d18e74 | ['308f88ef712a473c88139ed9cb0f4cf9'] | a little miracle
He knows she likes to appear when they both are thinking about each other, or, maybe it's just easier for the both of them. He's not really sure if the latter is true, but he can attest he does feel more peaceful when he's thinking about her. Maybe that does make it easy to slip in... whatever this is.
Days have passed from the last connection, or the 'miracles'. She's still giving their visits that name, and the surge of undignified pride swells from his chest. It's a bit more than undignified because he always starts to smile in a strange way when he remembers their connection, how recently since it first came, and what might come in a future... with her in it. He thinks about that dark beauty named Kala more and more frequently. Sometimes he'll feel what might be a smirk and maybe even a smug comment from Lito, and has to stop the emotion quickly. He can't lose his image in front of the man.
This time, Wolfgang has been caught in Felix's and his store, and the dark-haired beauty beside him is already scanning her eyes over all the tools and dim walls of this place. Turning around, he tries to spy his brother, but he isn't in sight. Felix has hightailed his ass somewhere else, giving him time to talk to her. She smiles when their connection shows her exactly what this place is, and what it means to him. Even though she seems interested, he suddenly feels like the place too impure for her. Any place smelling of piss did not deserve to have her in it, his included.
Thankfully, the scene shifts, and shows what looks to be a restaurant with spices and the sharp scents of smoke. He's now seated at a table, not his stool in the back of the workshop. Soon images appear of a tiny girl with that same entrancing hair was once curled up like a cat on a rug, where the same tables sat today. The memories of her childhood are starkly contrasted with his own, and they give him a foreign kind of comfort that she must have felt from so long ago.
"Your father's restaurant." He states aloud.
"Yes, my father sometimes had to hide me when the restaurant was still open." She explains, and smiles a bit wider, walking back over to him.
Soon she's pointing out each crack of the place and how she may or may not have broken that chair that looks unusable in the back. Next is the story of her family all vying for first pick of her father's Bombil fry. Though he tries to pay attention to the story, he's so captivated by her; her sunny smiles, her hand almost touching his on the table (but not nearly enough to satisfy him), the near closeness is enough to drive one mad. Not even realizing it, he's already moved towards her, until their hands are clasped. They won't go any further, he wouldn't dare push... so for now it's alright. She seems to understand, as she tightens her hold. Those dark eyes pull him in, and he knows... he'll never want to look away again.
In a moment he's back at the workshop, and his hand is just holding air. He knows she's gone... but not really.
After all, he isn't just himself now, and he's already awaiting their next little miracle. | b548681822f1444da7019e915d5eaba8 | ['308f88ef712a473c88139ed9cb0f4cf9'] |
Today
The girl arriving into the small, isolated town wasn't new to the area. Well, in a sense she was. She had heard so much about the town of Rosewood from her mother and father, she knew the shape, color, and size of every rock, tree, and post office. Being a nineteen year old unemployed woman, people would think she would head to the big city with her journalism degree and make a name for herself. This girl wouldn't care even if they thought such things though. After all, it was her life. She had been prepared for this ever since she was a child. She was ready to head on her own, and that meant going to the town of Rosewood.
For the past six hours, she had been on an old bus, only to stop and go onto a train even older. She had been prepared for this ever since she was a child. She was ready to head on her own, and that meant going to the town of Rosewood.
She had been told that the ride on the clunky machine was only thirty minutes, but once she got onto it, she hoped train ride would never end. The view on her side of the train was sensational. It was early August, and the summer sun seemed to make the countryside even more appealing than it had first been to her. Her observation of the surrounding area was mostly of foothills, some covered with thick, almost black- looking trees. Slowly, the foothills began to fade.
A few people had talked to her on the train, but one particular person, a cat, talked with her a lot. Later, she found out that the cat's name was Rover. Well, Rover was very excited to meet her. Asking lots of questions, telling her things about Rosewood that she already knew. "The town, the people, although in short amount, are great! Make sure you know how to cook though, or else you're dead meat! No fast food chains there, nope!" The girl nods thoughtfully. Rover gave her a smirk, and before the girl could ask what was wrong, he got a good long look at her hair and hat. "Good hairstyle. Not to mention it's pink? That's gonna make some eyes pop. It can't be your natural color, right?" Laughing, the girl replied. "Now, that's my little secret."
"Whaaatttt? Not even to such a good friend like me?"
"Ha! It's a good thing if I don't tell you, right? Won't it just be the greatest thing ever once I mail you the answer once I'm settled in?"
Rover laughed, taking particular interest in her words. "Can't argue with a girl like you. So, already planning some get together as well? Are you the tourist type?"
She nodded. "I like to visit some places. Or I might just visit other towns, if there are any without having to take a train for six hours." They both laughed, and unexpectedly, the train whistle from the front car sounded. Startled, she tried to listen to the conductor, but his voice was muffled. "Huh?" Rover pushed her. "It's your stop! Go!" Cursing, the girl pulled her bags down from the top rack and started to run to the next car. Rover started to run after, his blue fur ruffled. "Wait, w-what's your name again?" The woman spun her face around. "It's Utau, silly!" Then she was gone, onto the front car and into the station of the hill-bill town of Rosewood. Rover waved as he passed by her friend on the station, and wondered if Utau was just what the town needed, or if she was just going to scare the hell out of everyone.
Utau was a bit disoriented when she saw what the town looked like. The word 'Town' didn't get enough justice from the looks of the place. Her parents had said it was rustic. Right now, all she could see was trees. Trees, trees, rocks, and-
She stopped looking around since she saw a pair of bright orange ears in her view. She blinked and backed up to see a bright orange and cream striped cat girl there, just staring at her. 'This… must be one of the villagers…' Utau guessed. Her getup was some black and white stripe pattern, but before she knew it, the girl had run off into another direction. Then the trees swallowed her. Taking a few deep breath to try and get her strength up, Utau got off the platform-
Only to have abnormally large drops of rain plop onto her knit beret. "Really!? Another interruption?" She muttered angrily. Then with a few scrambling noises, the cat girl came and poked her head out again. "Ohmahgoddd~ Rain! I can't believe it! I never guess the weather right, but it's actual RAIN!" She annoyingly yelled. Utau could only sport a stupid look a stupid look as cat-girl started to yell "Rain, rain, rain." Over and over again. "I hope this place isn't full of nutzos." She said, the rain drowning out her words.
She trudged to the area of the post office, only to stop right into an entrance of a dump. Surprisingly, it didn't smell, and there wasn't even much 'trash' in it. She glanced behind her. More trees. Was there an end? Was there at least two actual citizens here- one of them not acting criminally insane? Knowing she should try to find the vital places in town, she went to the post office. At the small desk there was a white pelican, who was shocked to see her. "Oh- ma'am? I'm a newcomer, I just wanted to know-" She was cut short by the woman's tears. "Oh- oh! I'm so sorry, did I offend you? I am so sorry!" Utau exclaimed. Pelly, the post woman, calmed down and explained that it was tears of joy that the human had arrived. After asking her question a beat later, Utau was told there was only the post office, a general store, a museum, and oldies clothing store. "Are you serious? I think I might be going into shock right now. Let me process it. T-two stores? A post office and museum? No library, public pool? Not even a regular grocery store? What do you mean no meat? I have to import things?" Now she understood her parent's meaning of 'rustic'. 'Next time I see them, they will pay.' She thought angrily. Before she could storm out of the place, a young Dalmatian girl stepped into the cramped office. Bumping into the cash register, Utau bowed quickly as thanks before leaving.
Utau spent thirty minutes of roaming around before understanding her mistake. She was now lost in a forest, having no clue where real houses were, and she didn't have the key to her house. It was still raining as well. Her two bags she had with her felt increasingly more heavy than they had been before, and her stomach rumbled, signaling it was dinner for her. Trudging on, the tress started to spread out, and she finally spotted a bit of metal roofing from far off. She made it to the place in minutes, panting but excited, knowing she could now ask for some directions, maybe even get a map!
Bursting through the opening, Utau tried to hide her display of horror as she looked over the shop. It was a simple log cabin of sorts, with a small clock that looked like it was too old to be working properly. A large raccoon man was in front of her, who looked a bit distressed. Making a strange sound (obviously not noticing her), the raccoon man had started to pace back and forth. "Sir?" She asked, now a bit nervous to talk to him. The voice the man was making stopped, and the shopkeeper turned to Utau, his whole now changed. He was looking at Utau with a fiery anger, and she jerked back. "Where have you been?! I've waited for you, newcomer, for over two hours! All I heard was that you were supposed to head off towards the post office and then come to me. I needed to give you the key to your house, give you a gift, and maybe even show you around the town! Now I don't have the time to do such things, I have to close up shop soon and you just come parading in!" He roared. Utau bowed down, hearing the man mutter several ugly words about her disappearance. "I am so sorry sir, I did not wish to be a burden. I didn't get directions on where to get my key, or even to find my house, and I got lost. I hope you'll forgive me!" The shopkeeper harrumphed, and told her woman to get up. Once she was eye level with him, or at least close enough, (She was a few inches taller than him) he handed her a key. Looking at her with less malice, he said "Get some rest. Your house is back just south of the station, just follow the gravel from the station to a few houses. Yours is numbered 105 on the mailbox, it's the only one with a blue roof. Don't go into the woods to get back to the train station, you hear me?" Utau nodded, so glad of the man's help. "Now, as for payment- I know you still have a fifth of the mortgage unpaid, since your parents didn't send in their share. To pay for that, and to be forgiven for your absence today, you will work for me once you've settle in. Is that clear?" Utau frowned, knowing her parents had been short on funds and hadn't been able to help. She still nodded stiffly to the man, and he sighed. "God, I'm so tired. You leave, now. Make sure to call for Tom Nook once you come back here." And with that, the raccoon Tom Nook pushed her out of the shop, and slammed the door behind her.
'Today was not the best day for me. I have so much to do now, I know I won't be bored here. At least I hope so! I'm not too sure about the people living here in this town. I mean, my town. I can't believe I'll be living here in Rosewood. Rover will write me soon, so at least I'll have him as a friend. I wonder how my life will be here… I'll try my hardest, and I won't give up until I've made some great friends!'
Love, Utau~
**Author's Note:**
> (Explanation about her already having a degree will be explained soon, hopefully. The romance won't be coming just yet, but I hope you all have enjoyed the first chapter! Review, watch, or like~) |
c48ab76579b845278b0b27c53d7abe03 | ['30c94d3a1d1c4988ab27e293c5a76f4c'] | The "sod off" that was about to come from Spike died in his throat. The girl behind him who seemed to have run headlong into his back was blonde, golden, petite and gorgeous. Her hair was slightly crazy, just the way he imagined it would be if she woke up after a night of fun. All he could think of was how he would love to see her dance. He was speechless for a moment as he looked her over. Never mind telling her to sod off, he would have some entertainment.
"Something you want, luv?" he asked as the next song started to the roar of the crowd's approval.
Buffy hoped she wouldn't stammer, since she was lost in his blue eyes and cheekbones—hell, his whole face. Luckily she wasn't one to usually lose her composure when confronted with a hot guy. That track record was about to be tested however—she'd never seen a guy anywhere near the vicinity of this hot. Even the guyliner that wasn't usually her thing looked good on him.
"Yeah, I need to get past you. My sister is up there." Good. Be firm and keep pushing.
"So, what, you think you can just push your way through here? I waited for four hours, don' think I'm going to give up my place that easy. Not even for you, pet." Spike was lying—he hadn't waited at all really; he had what you might call an "all access pass" but it wouldn't hurt to make this girl think he wasn't going to give up his small amount of standing room.
Buffy was starting to get really annoyed. She put her hands on her hips. "Are you going to let me get by you or not?" she asked with finality.
Spike curled his tongue under his teeth—god, that's hot!—and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
Trying to ignore the enticing expression on his face, Buffy shrugged. "Okay," she said, and made to push past him unceremoniously. Unfortunately for her, Spike was stronger and more determined than she had thought, and easily stepped so that she was blocked again.
"God! Could you be any more obnoxious?" Buffy asked. She realized she sounded much younger than her twenty three years, but she couldn't help it. This man—who didn't look much older than her—was acting even more childish than her. "I seriously need to get to my sister. Can you just let me by and get over it?"
"Maybe. How's about first you do something for me."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Buffy said, holding her hands up. She meant to put some distance between them at his words, but with the minimal space available, she just ended up putting both hands on his chest. Next thing she knew, the crowd was surging around them, and she was pinned up against him.
You make love to everything you touch
It's a
Natural reaction
It's a sensual attraction
"Maybe now that we're this close I should introduce myself," Spike said humorously, enjoying the deer in the headlights look that was on her face. "I'm Spike." He loved the way that name sounded coming out of his mouth. He knew he would love it even more if she said it.
She didn't. Instead she raised her eyebrows with a dubious look and said, "Right, like I'd tell you my name. Let me by or I'm going to have to hurt you." She smiled sweetly.
"Uh huh." Spike grinned back. "Alrigh', I'll let you get to your precious sis. If you give me something."
"Once again, I say, whoa. And no."
"Just a kiss?"
Buffy couldn't answer this time. The crowd was still pulsing around them, and she was just as pressed up against him, if not more so, with nothing to do about it. She was totally speechless. What kind of guy asked for a kiss from a girl he didn't know? A really cocky, hot one with the improbable name of Spike.
Spike decided this was it. Now or never, whether she said yes or not. As she looked up at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't decipher, he decided hell with it and brought his lips to hers.
Buffy's first reaction was to pull away, but she physically couldn't, and then as the moment dragged on, found she didn't want to. Everything seemed a little faded besides Spike connected with her, both of them breathing raggedly as the kiss deepened. She reached up and tightened her fingers in his hair, pulling him into her, a feat which was incredible considering how close the throngs of people them had them already.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
I lose control
When I hear your body move
Through the walls in the next room
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Spike felt like he was in heaven. Everything about this girl was beautiful. He wanted to stay there forever.
Just as the thought crossed his mind though, she pulled away, and he noticed the song was ending. "This is our last one for tonight!" the lead singer yelled.
Buffy was torn between going in for another kiss and slapping him, but the choice was taken from her when a look of slight panic crossed Spike's face for a moment, and running his hands through his hair, he said, "Gotta go, luv. Might see you soon."
And before Buffy could form a coherent sentence he had disappeared through the masses, away from the stage.
Might see you soon? Probably not, she thought regrettably.
As Neon Trees left the stage, Buffy made it to Dawn.
"I sure hope you like this shirt, because not only did I buy it but I went through things you don't even want to know about to get back here."
"I'm sure you did," Dawn said absently, and starting squealing and jumping up and down with Janice about how Her Vacant Eyes was about to come onstage in a mere twenty minutes.
Next thing she knew the lights were dimming and the stage lit up with a red glow. The three more minor members ran onstage and immediately started a hard, guitar infused song, building with the drums. The many girls—and guys—in the crowd were screaming as a dark figure became visible in the back, silhouetted by a curtain.
The curtain fell, and William ran to the front of the stage, starting to sing a louder, angrier, hell-with-it-all song than he ever had before.
Spike felt amazing. This was the image he had been looking for since he had started performing—Drusilla had given him one thing: the guts and reason to change what he had been into something stronger and better than before. He could tell the fans were loving it, but even if they hadn't he would have felt the same. This was him—the real him.
Buffy tried not to let her jaw drop. Amidst the music she knew wouldn't be out of her head for weeks was the man who had kissed her not half an hour before. William, she realized, was the former Spike. He must have been gauging the crowd, enjoying the energy, and just happened to be in her way. And obviously he had liked her.
And now he was definitely seeing her.
From their vantage point of right up next to the stage, Buffy, Dawn and Janice could see every change in expression on Spike's face—and as he saw Buffy, his, eyes lit up. He curled his tongue under his teeth just like he'd done before, and gave her a small nod. She didn't know what that meant, but she hoped it meant she could see him again. Soon.
**Author's Note:**
> This is based on an actual experience I had at an Owl City concert (minus some more enjoyable parts). Who knew hipsters could be so vicious! Anyways, I own nothing ect. ect. EXCEPT the two band names Y#EAR of the D#AD CELEBRITIES and Her Vacant Eyes. Neon Trees is an actual band that I'm in love with, go check them out. So many of their songs make me think of Spuffy. Hope you enjoyed it! | 924f556d08f54ab2869ae5706612dacf | ['30c94d3a1d1c4988ab27e293c5a76f4c'] | As usual, Arthur was reluctant to get up, but Merlin was under strict orders to make sure he did. It was Uther's belief that princes shouldn't spend the day lying around doing nothing, and Arthur was never permitted to sleep past eight in the morning.
"Well," Merlin announced, standing next to Arthur's bed, rocking back and forth on his heels, "time to get up!" Saturdays were always the worst day to wake the prince on. It was understandable, but really Merlin hated doing it. Sometimes Arthur threw things at his head, or yelled at him. It was quite unpleasant to be honest.
Today however, Merlin was on the receiving end of a new tactic.
"Grph in mgh bpgh." A series of groans came from underneath Arthur's pillow, where he had hidden—futilely—from Merlin.
"Sorry?" Merlin asked politely. No doubt Arthur was simply swearing at him again.
"I said, get in my bed," Arthur enunciated, after managing to extricate his face from the soft, downy fabric.
Merlin felt his blood run cold, then unbearably hot, and he knew his face was flushing brilliantly red. "I-I-I…what?" he asked, wondering if Arthur was in his right mind.
Arthur closed his eyes and snuggled deeper under his covers. "Bed. You. In it."
"Erm."
Merlin thought he heard a very exasperated sigh issue from Arthur's lovely lips. "Merlin. Your clothes haven't arrived yet, correct?"
Merlin replied with something that he thought sounded like an affirmative.
"And every day at this time you have slept in my bed, have you not?"
Once again, Merlin said something that resembled a yes, though he wasn't sure it was an actual word, since his brain couldn't be functioning when all the blood it needed was rushing downwards, could it?
"Today, I want to sleep in. And since I want to sleep here, and you want to sleep here, and incidentally I don't want you to freeze to death, you should be getting in this bed."
Flawless logic, Merlin thought to himself. Surely his crown prince couldn't be wrong. And even if he was, who was Merlin to argue with his painfully throbbing groin?
Without further ado, Merlin gingerly climbed into the bed with Arthur. To be honest he was expecting that they would stay on their separate sides, and wake up in a couple of hours with the knowledge that this would never be spoken of again. Instead, he was surprised that as soon as he got under the covers, Arthur sleepily grabbed him around the waist, and yanked him into the middle of the bed.
Merlin tried to remember how to breathe as he realized he was now flush against Arthur's body. The heat between seemed to be building by the second, and Merlin fought to stay very very still. Any amount of friction between them—despite having his back to Arthur, and not the other way round—and he knew he would be moaning without any volition at all.
Strangely though, Arthur seemed to have absolutely no ulterior motives. Merlin didn't want to seem narcissistic in assuming that Arthur wanted to do wicked things to him (which he would most certainly oblige) but honestly, when someone asked you to get into bed with them, wasn't there usually some naughtiness involved? Instead of kissing Merlin until he was breathless, or sucking him off until he couldn't see straight, Arthur was drifting into sleep. Merlin could tell from the way his breathing slowed, and his arms loosened slightly around Merlin's small frame.
Fine. He could deal with rejection. (Though really there had been none at all, and Merlin knew so. He hadn't even bothered to go for a kiss or anything, and Arthur was hardly to blame.) With a small humph Merlin let himself relax, as if sleeping in Arthur's arms wasn't a) what he dreamed about every night and b) one of the most wonderful experiences of his life. To be honest, he had never felt safer then he did now. It was like magic, as if Arthur's embrace could protect him from every evil in the world. Which was really just ridiculous, Merlin tried to tell himself, he was little more than a bed-warmer for Arthur…but his thoughts trailed off as he fell fast asleep.
Merlin felt soft lips on his neck, gently kissing him, open-mouthed and wet. Sighing, he leaned back into the touch, savoring the feeling. Dreams could hold on a little longer, he decided.
The owner of the arms wrapped around him seemed to agree—and he knew of course that it was Arthur who was holding him, since all his dreams were about Arthur. He was pulled in tighter, and suddenly he realized that behind him, his dream-Arthur was starting to rock against him gently, then starting to do so faster. It really wasn't an unpleasant sensation, he decided. He could feel the length of Arthur pushing against him, in ways that promised something more. Then without warning the hand that had, just a moment before, been resting on his chest dropped to his cock, and he found himself torn between pressing back against Arthur's back, or jerking forward against his hand. Unable to decide in his lust-addled state, he did something of a combination, and abruptly found himself entangled in sheets—and realizing that this was decidedly not a dream.
Unfortunately, the small part of his brain that was still functioning was facing a pressing ethical dilemma. On the one hand, Arthur might very well not be aware of what he was doing. It appeared from a brief glance that he was still very much asleep, which meant that he couldn't really be held totally responsible for his actions, and the right thing to do would be to wake him up and never speak of this again if that was what he wanted.
But on the other hand…Merlin was pretty sure he was about to come. In Arthur's hand. And that was hard to ignore. |
b628043291bb4d7d918a318d8a65dea7 | ['30d92ab6553c42b4a84f3c0a50767f76'] | "Did I? Wake you up, I mean?" Noct asked after moments of silence ticked by. As much as he enjoyed their shared silence, he gave a small sigh of relief when Noctis spoke. He didn't necessarily want to have heavily involved conversation, but he did not want to go without hearing Noct's voice.
"No. I haven't been able to sleep yet," Ignis returned casually, not wanting Noctis to make a scene over his lack of sleep. Not that he would anyhow, given how he simply expected Ignis to be running at full power regardless of the circumstances. And Ignis would deliver every time.
"Well, then. That makes two of us. You want to go for a walk or something?"
In the middle of the night? Had Ignis heard him correctly, or was his mind playing tricks on him? Had he really fallen asleep and was imagining the events taking place? He bit the inside of his cheek to ensure consciousness then thought on the idea for a moment. Noctis wasn't one to remain awake for any amount of time, so maybe a walk would quiet whatever was troubling his mind.
He gave a nod and dropped Noct's hand before making his way to his bedroom for a change of clothes. He heard the prince shuffle behind him and need not look to see the other following at his heel. Something must have been bothering him more than he initially thought. Noctis only became that necessitous when something couldn't be shoved aside and ignored. Ignis motioned for the bed but Noctis was already walking by him and climbing onto the disheveled mattress. He hadn't intended on company, but Noctis didn't seem to notice the sheets in slight disarray.
"It was a little colder out than I thought it would be. Could I borrow a sweater or something?" The inquiry came as yet another surprise that Ignis had not anticipated. Noctis' tone had been bland, monotone when he asked the question, yet the words themselves should have possessed some type of rise or fall. Ignis, however, shook the stupefaction from his form and gave a silent nod. He went directly to his closet and browsed through his clothes before he found something that would suffice and grabbed it from the hanger. He handed it to Noctis who immediately pulled it over his head. "Thanks."
To say that the image of Noctis wearing his clothes made his heart skip a beat was to underestimate the severity of the reaction the strategist had. His breath caught in his throat and he felt a pool of warmth force its way through the barrier he began constructing a few years earlier. He had wanted to remove the part of him that melted upon seeing Noctis, the part where the uninhibited affection dwelt from years of connection, but he had failed miserably. The construct faltered at least once a week, and he would surrender to anything Noctis wished, internally cursing himself for not being able to be the stoic strategist he needed to be. And the sight of Noctis wearing his clothing barreled through the construct without hesitation or much resistance. He turned from the prince and returned to his closet.
Next came his own change of clothes, which he took no amount of time on and the two made their exeunt in silence. Together, they meandered the oddly quiet streets of Insomnia, Ignis remaining at Noct's side, ensuring he was nearest the buildings rather than the street. Even though they walked in perfect tandem with one another, Ignis let Noct lead them wherever he so felt. The direction was not one unfamiliar to Ignis, and there was a small twinge of hope in the pit of his stomach when he realized how close they were to a familiar shared spot.
Noct casually slipped his fingers into the empty spaces of Ignis', the future adviser's pulse quickening at the menial contact. It was reminiscent of their childhood, in a strange way. The two sneaking off hand-in-hand to the hills. Each not saying much. Ignis was thankful for the silence in more ways than one, knowing that he would have unquestionably suggested returning to the apartment given the dangers of the city at night. But he remained quiet, content to follow his future king whilst holding easily to his hand.
In earnest, he would follow Noctis regardless of the location. So long as he was able, he would not hesitate to accompany the one he had spent the majority of his life with.
"I guess you've figured out where we're going by now," Noct mumbled, his focus unerringly on the path as they veered from the sidewalk. His hope flourished within him, turning in on itself only to expand to consume his entire being. Ignis tried, with much futility, to fight against it but failed at every turn.
As any weak man would be, Ignis could not grasp his emotions; he could not snuff them out as he had managed to do for the last couple of years. He inadvertently squeezed Noct's hand tighter and gave a silent nod. Ignis did not want to risk his voice betraying his disposition, so he remained quiet, hoping that Noctis received his response even though the prince was focused on the dirt pathway in front of him.
They reached the hill in no time, the walk there something of an autonomic function to both of them, and Noctis took his place on the dew-soaked ground. Not wanting to be dragged down by Noct, Ignis took his place beside him, grateful that his choice in jacket had been one of his larger, less form-fitting ones. He glanced at Noctis to see the pullover he wore doing the same for him, providing a barrier between his jeans and the ground beneath him. | ff04c9eafb304cd09a43bffe6e3ff45d | ['30d92ab6553c42b4a84f3c0a50767f76'] | “I uh…” Garrus started, his voice unstable. “I was thinking about your Spectre induction. I know it seems out of place given what we were talking about. You’ve managed to prove that a Spectre went rogue, be given the honor of the first human to join the group, and then assigned the task to bring him down with the full trust of the Council. I meant what I said on Saleon’s ship a while ago, Commander. I’ve never met anyone, human or otherwise, like you. You don’t play hard and fast; the ends don’t justify the means. You’re the only person I’ve ever known to get everything done without much collateral damage. Statistically, we should have more casualties in a day than we’ve had up until this point. I read the file on Jenkins. My species isn’t big on luck, Shepard, but what happened to him was no more than an accident. There was no way of knowing the geth were going to be there. In short, it was bad luck, Commander.”
He felt like an idiot as he spoke too hastily for what he was saying. It blatantly sounded like a cover story in both his subharmonics and regular voice. Garrus avoided Shepard’s eyes as much as he could; he never associated the color green with fire until that moment. Her emerald gaze bore into him as she tried to search for what he was avoiding.
“Garrus?” Her inquiry was accompanied with a tenderness he had never heard from her. Her tone was nearly as unwonted as his vocal paroxysm. She had disregarded what he had said. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Do I need to go get Dr. Chakwas?”
The turian shifted against the Mako and took a breath to calm his nerves. The doctor was more than likely at rest as was the rest of the crew. As far as Garrus was concerned, only he, Shepard, and a few mandatory crew members were awake. The closest person aside from Shepard was the maintenance individual watching the drive-core, and they weren’t one to leave their station for too long, in the very unlikely event that something goes awry. His situation with the commander was the most private one he had had with her since boarding the Normandy, and he got the impression that he was going to botch it.
“N…no. Commander, that won’t be necessary. I guess I’m just nervous. We are about to go after one of the most respected and revered asari matriarchs. Are we really prepared for that, Commander? I’m in no doubt of your abilities, I just know that Liara’s going to want to accompany you when we arrive. When the time comes, do you think she’ll be able to pull the trigger?”
Shepard gave pause as she turned the inquiry around in her head. Garrus could tell that she was working over it, not because she hadn’t anticipated it, but rather how she was going to answer. He was knowledgeably cognizant of the certain looks she would give, and strangely more so after what happened on Dr. Saleon’s ship. He had noticed more about her in the past week than he had since meeting her, taking in and compartmentalizing her idiosyncrasies and her preferences. Garrus had even taken note to the certain ways she would have her hair depending on what mindset she was in. It was obvious when she rushed and when she took her time.
He was doing it again, realizing that he paid more attention to his commanding officer, a Council Spectre, a _human_. It was developing into something of an autonomic function; he observed Shepard unintentionally and each time learned a new aspect to her character. Garrus rarely gave mind to anyone when it came to appearances. He didn’t care what they looked like, so long as they could do what they had to with efficacy. As long as a sniper could shoot on their mark and a biotic could bend things with their mind, what did their appearance matter? The last person he had paid attention to was a fellow officer who, after several sparring matches, decided to break the tension in a less military-approved fashion.
“I’m confident in Liara’s abilities. I trust her to make the right call when the time comes. Still, Benezia’s her mother. I can’t imagine what this will be like for her…”Shepard’s calculated response removed him from his thoughts, and thankfully so. His eyes might have been looking at her face, but he was focused on the way her hips swayed when she shifted her weight from one side of her body to the next.
“I understand, Commander. And, if you believe that Liara will be able to set aside her feelings, then I believe you,” returned Garrus earnestly. He did trust Shepard’s judgment of others, and he was, to say the least, hopeful that his trust regarding this issue was not misplaced.
A momentary silence fell between them and Garrus was once again left to his thoughts. And once again those thoughts had Shepard being cynosure. They were not as easily dispelled as the previous had been. He focused on what he could not visually see, but what he could feel from her. It was a rare occurrence, but Garrus would get certain notions about people for inexplicable reasons. What he experienced when he was around the commander was not something he cared to put into words or even solidified thought. His faith in her ran deeper than what it should have. There was an urgency within him to prolong her longevity. Though he would not admit it, that urge stemmed from a place bathed in selfishness. |
bf8b8b1f5a7e4986b725a319deeb2adc | ['30e30939af5f489f9dba51340e281d0f'] | “This is perfect Taehyung-ah. Let me go hang this so it won’t get wrinkled.”
As Jimin leaves and Taehyung takes his place back on Jimin’s bed, laying on his tummy, his vibrating phone brings back the memory of what he was doing moments ago.
“Ah shit…”
j: _And?_
j: _And??_
j: _aND????_
j: _Taehyung what the fuck_
j: _Don’t make me ignore u_
**t:** **_I will send a nude and end that game now before it starts_ **
**t:** **_anyway_ **
**t:** **_AND_ **
**t:** **_We’re wearing leather._ **
**t:** **_So you two are going to have to make sure you wear something else_ **
**t: (◡‿◡✿)**
j: _Taehyuuuuung_
j: _That’s naughty_
j: _You’re gonna look hot as fuck aren’t you_
**t:** **_Of course I am zaddy when don't I?_ **
j: _I’ll see you tomorrow night then_
j: _And try not to nut on you in front of everyone_
j: .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.
**t: ~(^з^)~** _)_
Yoongi gags at _Taehyungie_ , but quickly recovers.
“This project is really important for our class, Kook. I’m gonna sound like such a dick-"
“When don't you-"
“ _K_ _ook-ah…_ but…my _top_ priority has been school, before I even knew or cared about Jimin. Now, yeah I mean of course Jimin is up there but I can’t put him before my studies _all_ the time. I can’t say he’ll be around forever but at least _this_ will. Learning to produce better and getting a career from it.”
Jungkook hums.
“Nerdy hyung.”
“Oh, forgive me for not wanting to major in dicking like you, apparently…”
“I do not!” Jungkook pouts, “forgive _me_ and my boyfriend for having nice dicks and good times together.”
Yoongi can’t help it, doesn’t help it as he snorts, rolling his eyes.
“Whatever, seriously Kook, I get that he’s important to you…as important to you as Jimin is to me…but you can’t say Taehyung will be around forever either.”
“I know, hyung…I’ll focus on school more.”
Yoongi softly smiles at the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice. It’s gone though, when Jungkook continues.
“Oh! By the way, Hobi hyung is throwing a party tomorrow night, and Taehyung is telling us to make sure we don't wear leather…”
“Us?”
Jungkook’s shrug is so full of shit, cheesy and fake but he still isn’t sure what his stepbrother’s getting at until he realizes he isn't wearing his Saint Laurent jacket - his favorite. The jacket he wears almost every day, way more than his other two. _If it's not here, then..._
His eyes grow just a little bit. “You’re not fucking saying…”
Yoongi doesn’t finish before he all but _runs_ into his room, trying to take account of all three jackets he owns, but sadly coming up short with just two.
“Park fucking Jimin!”
* * *
Here’s the deal: Yoongi can let Jimin pout all he wants until he’s spent and over whatever quarrel they’re in. He knows Jimin can be bratty, and won’t even bat an eyelash at his antics. But there’s just some times when bratty Jimin just goes too far and pushes Yoongi’s buttons, as if _daring_ Yoongi to fight back. To _challenge_ him.
11:15 on a Saturday night sees Yoongi sitting on a sofa in Hoseok’s living room, tipping back a shot of rum and vodka and being completely over the shindig, snorting as he listens to Namjoon bicker about something stupid with someone just as stupid.
The night of trouble was another thing Yoongi should’ve seen coming and been prepared for. He and Jungkook arrive twenty minutes after the party begins, finding the place already packed and everyone already completely shitfaced. Hoseok isn’t, not yet at least, as he’s the host and needs to make sure nothing goes awry in his place. Jungkook sees Yoongi off, stalking to surprise Taehyung with a sudden squeeze of his ass. Yoongi gags at them again, when Taehyung turns and begins to cheer when he registers who it is; then they proceed to make out. That’s gotta be a new record.
In regards to Hoseok’s place, it’s much more cozier than Namjoon’s, almost too cozy, which brings a stuffy atmosphere as soon as they walk in. When the door to the two bedroom apartment opens all they’re greeted with is a narrow staircase going up. It’s already packed in said narrow space, and they have to squeeze through as they go up, underwhelmed at the lack of space the rest of the apartment has. It’s as if it’s one big room; at the end of the right side is a rather small balcony, to which the doors are open to let more air in. Then a bit more than half of the room is the designated living room, a door to the bathroom adjacent from the stairwell entrance. Across is, aside from the stairwell (and small wall right against it to prevent someone from falling), a large tv mounted on the wall, and towards the corner of that wall begins a stairwell that leads up to what one assumes are the bedrooms. Down more to the left side is the kitchenette and small dining table, the far left wall housing a door to the pantry.
No, the apartment isn’t very spacious, so it doesn’t take Yoongi very long to see his other half leaning against the kitchenette counter, talking into a fucking _stranger’s_ ear. The dim lighting isn’t a problem in seeing Jimin’s ensemble for the night. As suspected, _Yoongi’s_ leather jacket, but then as he looks on, his mouth goes dry. Jimin has a black mesh crop top, with holographic glitters sprinkled throughout. The low lights catch it perfectly, and also catches the shine of the ripped _leather_ jeans he has on, clinging to his ass and thighs delectably. Yoongi notes that the rips are rather large, so the _fucking fishnets_ he dons underneath are easily seen and burned behind Yoongi’s eyelids for the rest of his life, at least.
“Fishnets…Jesus _fuck_.” | 446d88240a904589a03edd81cd6a5e4e | ['30e30939af5f489f9dba51340e281d0f'] | The floor and walls are all a smooth glossed champagne beige, and the quaint living room connects to the dining room, where a gorgeous chandelier hangs above. Windows are only in the living room, and they take up the space of two walls, floor to ceiling. What makes Jimin’s heart subtly sink, however, is the definitely too big dining room table. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the fact for long, thankfully, as Yoongi’s words and movements jerk him back to the moment.
“Jimin, yes?”
“A-ah, yes, Park Jimin.”
“Well, Park Jimin-ssi, please, take off your shoes and come in.”
And ever so shyly, Jimin does so, slipping off his shoes and padding to one of the white sofas in the living room. Yoongi follows, sitting on a rather abstract chair just a few feet away. Jimin squints at the artsy piece. It’s black, and has a round base that lays flat on the floor, then starts in a thin shape, soon spreading widely where the seat is, much like the bottom half of a pear, then has a less wide, square ish top and backrest. He keeps his staring to a minimum as Yoongi brings his knees to his chest, looking extremely tiny curled up on the chair. It proves to be just as harder not to stare when Jimin takes note of his seemingly bare face, dull but glowing all the same. He looks tired, like he could cutely fall asleep right there. Jimin uses all his strength to hold back his smile.
“You look tired, Min Yoongi-ssi…”
“Ah, that’s because I am, Park Jimin-ssi. You do know it’s half past the god awful hour of 7 o'clock in the morning, don’t you?” Lightly, Jimin chuckles.
“I do. Guess I’m just used to being an early bird and getting to work.”
Yoongi’s eyes are tiredly squinted as he hums softly, nodding with a barely there smile. Nothing else is said in the following minutes; it’s just Yoongi staring, Jimin looking anywhere but back at Yoongi - because really, this is fucking awkward - and the beginning of birds chirping their little songs. Finally, Jimin clears his throat.
“Uh…please! Please, get rest, I didn’t mean to come so early.”
If it was even possible, Yoongi’s squint does intensify now, in more of an inspecting manner.
“Are you sure? What will you do?” Jimin shrugs.
“Maybe check into my hotel? Get my work set up…definitely change into something more casual.”
Jimin won’t include in his column that he thinks Min Yoongi checks him out - up and down and once more - and he won’t describe the awkward giggle that comes out of himself all the while because _is Agust D really checking me out?? Am I losing my fucking mind??_
“I’ll get rest…” He suddenly cuts in, looking at his knees. Jimin smiles and gives a quick bow of his head, making his way to get up.
“And you will too.”
At this Jimin freezes mid stance, still hunched over from getting up. He doesn’t straighten his body, the dumbass, and squeaks a little, “what?”
“I have a guest room, take it. Change in there, and nap because it’s too early.”
Jimin really hopes that Yoongi doesn’t see his eyes widen, because he sure as hell can feel it. Is this really happening? Is he about to live with Yoongi for a week? No, this is a joke, it has to be. Jimin finally straightens his stupid body.
“Oh, no, Min Yoongi-ssi, really, it’s already enough I’m seeing you for seven days, I-”
“I am _hurt_ , Park Jimin-ssi, you’re already getting sick of me?” Jimin is too scared to laugh at the feigned look of offense Yoongi has, sputtering in hopes of not making himself look like an even bigger dumbass.
“Oh n- _no_ , Min Yoongi-ssi! On the contrary, I think you’ll be sick of me! You’ll already have me bombarding you for seven days with questions, I think you’d need a break at some point.”
“Nonsense, I think it’ll be nice having a roommate for a week.”
And oh, does _that_ sting.
“But-”
“Here…”
Tiny Yoongi rises from his pear chair, waddling over to Jimin’s belongings in the mini entrance hall. At being faced with Yoongi’s back, Jimin takes those quick few seconds to crouch down and silently squeal at how fucking _adorable_ this man is being. _Who is this man??? This is Agust D??? Impossible!!_
And just as Yoongi turns back, Jimin is just as quick in straightening up, and putting on his good poker face. They exchange kind smiles, followed by Yoongi beckoning Jimin to follow to the guest room. It’s not a walk at all, only a few steps from the dining room. Jimin then realizes that that’s probably the reason for a more than one seating dining table - two bedrooms. Who does Yoongi usually have over? _Does_ he have anyone over? Should he really ask that?
_No, for the love of god Jimin, don't ask the poor man that._
Carefully, Yoongi puts Jimin’s luggage by the bed, a nice, rather low standing king sized bed, the room completed with flooring identical to the rest of the place, and minimal style furniture, donned with succulents here and there.
“This is…very nice, Min Yoongi-ssi, thank you. Really, you didn’t have to be so kind.”
“It’s nothing, Park Jimin-ssi. I’ll leave you to it now, please rest. Our week starts now?”
With a blinding smile, Jimin knows and feels it, he nods, reaching his little hand out for a shake. Yoongi doesn’t waste a second before he takes and shakes, adding, “See you in a few hours.”
In Yoongi’s perspective, the room is sort of whooshing around. He hears Jimin say something, a thanks probably, but barely registers it before he’s out of the room, going into his next door. As soon as the door’s shut, his back’s against it, and he’s running his hands down his face with a frustrated whine. |
9176b7ef0e79436297e48e92a43072a2 | ['3107160d0ee14b3d9bad62e0a6482ede'] |
cycle of fifths
**Author's Note:**
> The working title for this was _dreaming of olympic (cock) rings_ but it seemed like too much of a tease seeing as there are not olympic medal cock rings to be had. That being said:
>
> There is no substance, only filthy, _filthy_ porn.
Yuuri's breaths are punching out of his lungs in short, harsh pants, sweat beading on his skin, dew-like. Tremors travel from his lips to his toes, where Victor's eyes pin him down, a physical touch scorching against Yuuri's skin as he idly presses slow indulgent kisses to the inside arch of Yuuri's foot.
Yuuri is sublime, spread out over Victor's bed, bound and tangled and weighed down in gold medals. He's a Turner masterpiece, a sunset bathed in golds, shrouded in light, luminous. As he grazes his teeth lightly over the jut of Yuuri's ankle bone Victor allows himself to admire how gold _really is Yuuri's color_. The way it warms against his skin, how it reflects and brings out the gold flecks in Yuuri's eyes.
Victor pushes the leg he has in his hand up and out and leans in close to press a kiss against Yuuri's most recent acquisition from World's where it rests against his chest, metal warmed by skin, sitting beside Victor's own gold medal from Sochi (the olympics – only the best for his Yuuri).
Yuuri's toes curl at the stretch, shivers when Victor presses closer, breath hot against his ear.
“Do you think you can take another?”
Yuuri's eyes roll back at the thought, in his current position he's already so spread open, the near split that Victor is pressing him into emphasizing the full press of the four medals they've already managed to fit inside him (among them include Victor's 2006 World's nestled beside his own Junior World's gold from 2008). He nods fervently, lips wet and bitten red, eyes glazed. The silk of the ribbons brushes against his inner thigh as he shifts.
Victor's eyes go hungry again as he presses a bruising kiss to Yuuri's lips, unable to resist biting into the plump shape of Yuuri's lower lip before parting to fumble into the pile of medals that he haphazardly dumped onto the bed in his haste at the beginning of this endeavor.
Victor pulls out his most recent World's medal ( _Stay Close to Me, indeed_ ) and spares a moment to be thankful that the ISU chooses to make them at such a _convenient_ size.
Yuuri gasps when he feels the cool touch of metal against were he's warm and soft and slick with lube, he tries to relax as Victor slowly slides it into him. When the cool weight of it settles beside the ones already there he feels the movement press against the spot that has him gasping, his back arching as he finally finally comes, spattering across Victor's olympic gold from Vancouver where it sits, balanced and warmed in the cradle of his hip.
Yuuri's skin has barely stopped buzzing after his first orgasm, his own come a decadent smear across his stomach when Victor rests Yuuri's leg on his shoulder, presses a kiss to the inside of his knee and lazily strokes Yuuri's cock, leaning down to press another kiss to its tip.
“You did it Yuuri, five international titles, like I always knew you could.”
Yuuri shudders at the praise, at the hot breath puffed out against his cock – raw and oversensitive, at the inexorable press of metal inside him just this side of _too much_. He strains against where his wrists are bound in silk, where his arms are weighed down by their combined accumulation of medals - overwhelmed as Victor picks up Vancouver from where it was resting on his hip to run the uneven surface of it against his cock while sucking vivid, devouring bruises onto the inside of his thigh.
Yuuri is a mess of open nerves between the skin warmed ridges of metal running along his cock, the hot mouth sucking marks into the thin skin of his thighs inching ever upwards, the medals holding him open, unyielding and hard against his prostate – undone and oversensitive, even the open air feels too harsh against his skin.
Victor is relentless as he makes his way to Yuuri's cock and swallows it down the base, his lips brushing against the medal he set on top of Yuuri's pelvis. Yuuri would've jackknifed at the sensation ( _too much too much_ ) if Victor's hand's hadn't been pressing him down, indents dimpling on his hips, more marks blooming in their wake.
Right as Yuuri is dangling on the precipice, Victor pulls off, squeezing the base of Yuuri's cock even as Yuuri whimpers, tears beading along the dark sweep of his lashes, clinging like jewels.
Victor shushes him, places a soft kiss on the crease of Yuuri's thigh before sliding up trailing kisses along his abdomen, to the peak of his nipple, the side of his neck, the corner of his mouth, and finally over Yuuri's lips, his tongue a hot sweep licking along Yuuri's soft palate where Victor knows he's sensitive. He drinks in Yuuri's moans, savoring them, reluctant to pull away as he traces the seam of Yuuri's mouth.
He shifts so that their cocks align and swallows another whimper before it can escape the perfect plump curve of Yuuri's mouth. Yuuri has a mouth that was made to be kissed, and Victor is dutiful in making sure it is, thoroughly and often. | e49f2318d2ea4bfdb123812eca5d6d64 | ['3107160d0ee14b3d9bad62e0a6482ede'] |
bodyshots@sochi, the #afterparty
**Author's Note:**
> i'm sorry mom.
If the banquet had felt like a revelation, a dream, a bolt from the blue, the perfect floating moment before slamming back down to earth – then the after-party feels like the euphoria of free fall, light and color and sound blurred together, heart beating out of his chest, burning up, in flames.
If he had been struck dumb, dazed, stupid by Yuuri Katsuki barreling into his life now he feels consumed, he wants to reach, to grasp, never let go – he's greedy for it, (for warmth, for feeling, for life, and he thinks he can steal it – in the perfect curve of Yuuri's spine, the soft arch at the sole of his foot, in, in – ) every last piece.
Victor feels himself slide back into the present when the ambient sound suddenly shifts, one of the people that Chris sent off earlier returning with two handles of tequila, a bag of limes, and some salt. Cheers and whoops erupt around the room. His eyes are drawn back to Yuuri Katsuki who has abruptly spun around from where he was dancing on the coffee table attention drawn by the commotion.
Victor feels his mouth go dry at the wicked grin that stretches across Yuuri's face when he sees the new supplies. Victor downs two vodka shots in rapid succession (from the line of shots on the counter of the hotel room mini bar someone had _oh so thoughtfully_ laid out) letting the burn travel down his throat into his gut, mixing with the champagne already there.
He feels alive in his own skin for the first time since before he can recall really – and he wants to chase this burning trail for as long as he can, as far as it will lead.
* * *
If the room was half in lust with Yuuri Katsuki before they started in on the body shots – then they are fully and completely lost to him now. Or maybe he's just projecting. No, he's definitely not projecting. The minute he left Yuuri's side (his first mistake) to grab some napkins for a spill (which proved be meaningless anyway as Yuuri just stripped down to his boxer briefs again anyway), Yuuri's been occupied by the crowd. Victor is _definitely not_ trying to drown his jealousy.
_(He danced with_ me _, he invited_ me _to his home.)_
Victor has been steadily downing alcohol for every body shot Yuuri does (he's never wanted to be so many other people before). Chris, Emil, Sara (and Mickey – who was caught wrong footed when he tried to jump up to defend Sara's “honor” only to have a lime shoved into his mouth and be swept back into a chair by Yuuri who then performed his next body shot in his lap – _unfair_ (Victor downs an extra shot just for this)).
By the time that ice dancer (Chase? _Chad?_ Whatever) creeps forward for his turn, Victor has just about had enough and with the last few drinks still burning hot in his veins, Victor slides forward, slow, lazy, and predatory. The message is clear; you've all had your fun ( _all of you who've had the chance anyway_ ) but it's _my turn now._
When he approaches (totally not filled with petty satisfaction at how Chad-whatever is so easily brushed aside) Yuuri's eyes swivel to his – locked on, as if finding true north. His lips part just so (so _so perfectly_ , Victor could drink from them indefinitely), plump and shiny from licking salt off bodies. Victor is just hazy enough to also be a little jealous of tequila salt too at this specific moment in time – seeing a small grain still clinging to the corner of Yuuri's mouth. He's suddenly and abruptly struck by a very vivid fantasy of other white things clinging to the corner of that deliciously obscene mouth.
He's pulled back to reality by the feeling of Yuuri reeling him in by his tie, pressing him into the armchair, clambering onto his lap, straddling his hips, and undoing his tie along with the top few buttons of his shirt to expose his collarbones to the air. He has just enough presence of mind to wedge a lime between his teeth when he feels the sprinkle of salt against his skin.
Yuuri is a warm weight in his lap, but his tongue is warmer. Victor's heart is aflame (and his dick, but mostly his heart) and he can't look away; not when Yuuri pulls back, licking his lower lip as if chasing the taste of Victor's skin, and not when he tilts his head back to take the shot – the long, smooth column of his throat exposed and tempting, begging to be marked, and definitely not when he leans in close to get the lime.
When Yuuri pulls back Victor still feels the memory of his lips on his collarbone, the lightest brush of lips against his own lips, and he can't help himself, really.
He plucks the remains of the lime wedge from Yuuri's mouth and fights the urge to press his fingers into that red, red, mouth. He wants to crawl inside him and never leave, linger in the same way that Yuuri has, sliding so easily under his skin.
“You've been doing a lot of these all night,” _god,_ his voiced sounded _wrecked,_ “I think it is time we evened the score, _yes?”_ |
fcb27ec6c2974ac9bdd91fbf56d1a73e | ['311642dcd91443aebc951269cf7daba4'] |
1. Over The Hills and Far Away
**Author's Note:**
> on general demand and fired by inspiration I proudly present:
> The Thailand Fic
> Cross posted from Livejournal/Albionfic.
Title: Glory Days
Pairing: P/C
Rating: pretty tame YET but mischievous mentioning of blood sex and romance
Beta: the ever lovely Lady Mimi
Leaving my now totally deserted house behind me,I practically fall off my doorstep and into an oily looking puddle.I watch the sun slip behind dark clouds and the first rain drops slam into the tiles of the side walk next to me and shake my soaked chelsea boot, cursing under my breath. I stare at the rain drops confusedly as my trusty Wayfarers -that I obviously too optimistically left the house with - slide off my nose and hit the ground with a mean glassy crack that tells me they are only good for the garbage now..Picking up the shattered pieces I cut my finger on the glass splinters. "Where is the bloody cab?" I grumble to myself around the bleeding finger in my mouth. In the same moment that I see the sodding thing turn around the corner of my street, I notice my carry-on slowly falling off the pavement into the puddle and my guitarcase hitting the ground with a brutal and physically painful dismelodic clang. Rain, blood, muddy water, shattered sunglasses and damaged guitars - this is not a good start. Albion does not love me back today. Maybe because I'm leaving her? Hmpf, I've heard that sentence before rather recently...
Nestled into the backseat on my way to Heathrow, I constantly finger and scan my phone nervously for more evil tidings; like riots, large explosions, tornados, or you missing whatever gets you to the airport. Too many times it's happened that way and I'm still always on the lookout for history repeating itself.
At the airport I consider starting to drink right away, just as I always do, because I'm eternally nervous about missing my flight or my connection, or my travel company, or maybe just flying in general? The idea of being in the hands of someone else who is allowed to raise a large metal can into the stratosphere by pure will and kerosine scares me shitless. Not to mention not being able to do anything to avoid my demise, except to wait for the airplane to blow up in a ball of fire and dust before it hits the ground in burning pieces. That sounds familiar too. Hm, no wonder this scares me - control freak that I am . "Dont put your life into the hands of a Rock n Roll band" he wails on the airport speakers. Or a pilot, I add quietly in my head.
Where is the rest of my gang? John and Gary should at least be here already, not that I expect you to show up till 15 minutes before take off. I always figured you do that a tad intentionally so they don't have too much time to search you thoroughly. God knows what you drag around in the depth of your suitcases and coat seams.. Guess the knife thing you might have got you last time though. But you were never a Mack the Knife person anyway. That would have been me then... And that's how we both have a couple of scars from my own blade. For some of them I might even have begged you....ah well t'is a too sexy kinky thing to dwell upon now...
Where are they? where are you? What's this new assistant good for if not getting you here in time at least...? Fuck!...the queue at the boarding counter is getting considerably short now. More Oasis. I'm going crazy, is this some English thing? Why don't they play my music here then? We were rather successful band too and publicly, patriotically English as fuck.. We are a rather very successful band I correct myself and grin like a loon about it as the reality hits me again. Still happens, I cant really wrap my head around it, then forget and talk about in the past tense. . Yeah, it's true, we are together again and it fucking works, no big drama, disaster, or you...me, ruining everything with our heated hearts, not that Gray or John were ever the cause of any trouble in our Libby world, au contraire, mon ami. I'm slowly, actually daring to think its true. Ha!
Where are they? Boarding finishes in 7 minutes...I will not fly to sodding Thailand all by myself...that's not what I bargained for... THANK FUCK, I see a tall, darkly dressed figure heading over here. By instinct I recognize the way you move through a crowd like a dark dream through a wedding party. You have the indecency to not look stressed out at all. Moving gracefully and unhurriedly, unfazed by the racket around you. Dressed in a long coat so black it seems to swallow the light,caught rain drops sparkling on it like diamonds in the soil. Your shortish hair beneath a hat askew, still wet from the shower, clad in a striped cashmere jumper with two scarves trailing behind you, your heels hitting the floor in a funny little double step, sounding merry somehow, but that's maybe just because you are heading towards me. Your eyes lock with mine and you smile, carrying the same battered guitar case I've just collected -we bought them together when we first had a bit of money, but stopped using them a long time ago, for various reasons I assume. Oh God, I'm nervous, excited, happy. | 689d6eba442b4c39950e91fa09264a0b | ['311642dcd91443aebc951269cf7daba4'] | sucking his nipples very gently whilst my hand slowly strokes his
sides and trace his hip bones with moist fingertips. His delicate yet
lithe build raising both tender and cruel feelings in me... I want to
advance like an army and take him quickly by surprise and in resistance yet be so tender he hardly feels me coming.
Carl stands by the end of the bed now, taking a sip from the bottle
of champagne (oh yes, I know that he considers it a "sexy" drink),
absentmindedly swirling the crop in his other hand with a interested,
observing look upon his face. He reaches into his back pocket and throws the
lube on the bed next to me, before going back to swirling the smooth
birch through dexterous fingers. I'd love to kiss/slap this knowing,
smug expression off his face, but that will have to wait until later.
Raising his head to watch, Stan sniggers as I reach for the little plastic bottle,
trying to not let it show that I am strung up tightly as I fumble with shaking hands.
"It's fine Pete. I have done this before...don't be nervous."
I let out a snort, looking up into his eyes whilst I start stroking his
cock, slow and tight with a lube slick hand, till the snigger dies away
and is replaced by a almost pained gasp.
"Oh yeah? Well then..." I answer, with all the regained smugness I can muster
and slide my finger between his legs to give his balls a soft caress, then
wandering lower with a teasing fingertip.
His mouth opens in a quiet little surprised "Oh" as my long finger slides into
him achingly slowly. His back arches higher and higher towards me.
I wrap my arm around his slim waist, lifting him off the bed to press his
sweaty, lovely, trembling form against me and start licking his neck,
burying my face in his locks.
My breath on his skin, his pulse racing under my lips and the scent of
his hair makes me feel as if I'm under water again, in a world just limited to
our two quivering bodies... I wanna whisper something just to feel his body
answer for him.
"Do you want it?' He drops his head against mine, our burning cheeks
touch and with noticable difficulty he replies;
"Pleasepleaseplease, yesyes..." His words slur, but I know he is not
drunk anymore, he's simply reduced to rudimentary thinking, just like me.
I start moving my finger inside him; tensing, coming and going in delicious
waves that I can taste in his kiss. He is so ridiculously tight that I
can hardly believe Carl is fucking him regularly...but I feel that he loves
the way I touch him and when I slide out to return again with two
fingers, Stan grabs my hair and moans so loud that I hear Carl give a
little startled yelp as he drops his new favorite toy.
Picking it up, he bends over to kiss Anthony, then lifts my chin with the tip of the
crop. My Biggles gives me a long, dark blue look that says everything
without a word; connects us both again and us three in this moment.
"Eh," he says, "Be sweet with him, yeah?"
I wonder if he is trying to control the path this takes for the fun of making
clear who is sharing here, or if he honestly thinks I'd hurt Anthony.
"Shut up Carlos. I'm trying to get fucked here, you're distracting
him!"
His voice is velvety and deeper than I have heard it before
and I want to lick it out of this mouth like chocolate... So I slip my tongue
into his pretty sigh-bruised mouth and he gasps as my fingers start
to carefully caress him deeper and tickle that wonderful spot inside
him that makes him tremble harder and beg for more.
As he whispers in my mouth I am almost a bit disappointed to get that
so early. I swallow my name from his lips and look up to see Carl
settled on an antique gold chair in front of the bed, sitting
sideways, legs swung gracefully over it's arm; the crop and the bottle
in his lap, sipping leisurely. His eyes are full of love, his smile pure
longing mischief .
Oh Fuck, how much I love him right now...
Meanwhile, Stan seems to become a tad impatient, rubbing his body along
mine, touching me, slinging an arm around my neck, his hands warm and
soft, pulling me closer. He is writhing on my fingers; pushing back,
his tight heat slowly giving into me the more time I take...
Always I have loved the quiet conquering that this moment brings, going
literally under somebody's skin - slipping into his mind as well - the
intoxicating feeling of him having given up control.
With Carl it's always a single second that turns his willing but protesting body into honey
under my intrusion... but Stan slowly melts into me instead. Carl seems to
always take his time with him; proceeding carefully and gently...
maybe he wants it differently this time? I lose myself in his body's
responses to me, soaking up his quiet whispers... His eyes are
dilated; completely black, glazed and empty aside of the obvious need
to get fucked - probably thoroughly - despite what Carl thinks about how
this should be done. He looks desperate and I know that I have to hurry
now or he'll have gone too far before I've entered his gorgeous
body and Carl won't get his private porn show between his love and his
toyboy.
"Ssshhhh, slow down love, I wanna make you happy, but you're going
too fast...I can't wait to fuck you....but you're like a cracker! Don't leave
me before I can light the fuse....."
I ease him back down on cool sheets that seem to catch fire under him, |
66d9ba3dc777483db3701a1cc724e60a | ['313dc883e0b641e39dc951989991acdc'] | He turned on the faucets and ran a bath as hot as he could stand it. When the tub was full, he stepped in and slid swiftly into the water, shifting his knees to one side so they wouldn't break the surface. The ripples stilled gradually. He leaned back and closed his eyes. The heat sank into his bones.
They were almost at the bridge in _I Want You Back_. JC measured out the beats and stepped deliberately into the new choreography, turning swiftly to the right. Lance bumped into him.
"Left, JC!" Lance said.
"No, remember? It's the new steps now."
"What?" Lance stared at him.
"Oh, no," Joey said, "I know - we talked about changing that part, but then we decided not to. Don't you - you were there, JC, you had to have been."
"Oh," JC said. He didn't remember that at all. But on the next runthrough he turned carefully to the left. No one said anything, and they whirled on.
"All right, JC. I think you're set. Now, next verse," Andrew called. Justin hopped up and brushed past JC on the stairs.
JC sat down in the first row, frowning. Chris came over and bounced himself down in the next seat, so hard that coffee slopped over the edge of his cup.
"Isn't Joey doing that verse?" JC said.
"Nope, Justin," Chris said. He drank another swallow and kicked at JC's knees.
"Oh," JC said. Chris really ought to lay off the caffeine, he thought, but he decided not to say anything. Instead he glanced over to the corner of the pit, where Joey was tickling Lance mercilessly. Lance was rolling and laughing on the floor. Joey knelt over Lance's legs, his back to the stage.
He went into the toy room, and Justin and Britney were kissing in the far corner. Britney had Justin backed up against a pinball machine, holding his face down to hers with both hands. His fingers were spread wide across the small of her back.
JC turned around and went to the quiet room instead.
"JC?" Bobbie said. "What do you want?"
JC recurled his fingers around his phone. "What do you mean? I just wanted to, y'know. Talk to you."
She sighed. "JC, you can't keep doing this, okay? When I said a break, I meant really a break. Like, no calling."
"A break?" he said. But she was already going on.
"I just need to not be hung up on your schedule for a little while. I thought you understood that. I'm sorry, honey, but -"
He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Bobbie's voice went on in a tinny stream.
"C'mon, JC, tell us your dreams. Pretty please! Were we all there? Were there lots of short people all around you, and flowers that made you sleep, and a mean, mean witch?"
"Shut the fuck up," JC said.
He dipped his fingertip in the pool of clear wax around the candle's wick. It formed a hot, sleek coat over his skin. He traced that finger slowly across the back of his other hand. Then he dipped into the wax again and made another layer. The flame flickered under his breath but steadied when he sat back. After a few more layers, he couldn't feel anything under that finger at all.
He was dancing, dancing in a crowd of people, and the music was something heavy and throbbing he could hardly hear above the beat. He lifted his hand to his mouth, and the glass he'd been holding was gone. He tossed his head and laughed. He was dancing and the song changed but the beat didn't stop.
There were hands hard on his waist, and breath lying hot on the nape of his neck. JC twisted back in the strong grip, laughing. He was dancing and they were dancing and then an arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Across the floor, Justin threw his head back to drain his glass. Joey was leaning over Lance's shoulder, his lips almost touching Lance's ear.
They were crammed in the back seat of a car and the car was moving. JC pressed his face against a cotton sleeve. He stumbled over the doorstep of his room, and Chris caught his arm. JC touched his mouth to amazing softness as he fell backwards.
Heat-flushed skin pressed all along his chest. There was a hand under his knee, and a hand folded over his cock, and a cock pushing heavily against his thigh. JC writhed on the bed like dancing. The drumbeat pounded in his chest.
When JC woke up, he was alone in the room with a hangover. He stumbled into the bathroom and managed to turn the hot water on.
Chris was sitting by himself at the breakfast table, reading a paper. JC bit his lip. "So. Um," JC said.
"Good _morning_ , JC," Chris said pointedly. "How are you this fine day? Did you sleep well?"
"Oh. Morning. Uh." Chris raised his eyebrows. JC hurried up. "So, um, that. Last night."
"Last night?"
"When you." JC pressed his lips together. "We."
"What are you talking about, C? We didn't do anything last night."
"But you - "
"JC." Chris stopped him with both hands held up, palms outward. "You been dreaming again? I don't know about your planet, man, but on this one, nothing happened."
JC stared for a moment. Then he swallowed. "Nothing - nothing happened," he repeated.
"Think you can remember that?" Chris asked kindly. He picked up his coffee mug, purple-stained nails closing over the handle, and lifted it to his mouth.
JC nodded. | 2bcf806e7ec445e6a7169b060786a950 | ['313dc883e0b641e39dc951989991acdc'] |
Breakfast
**Author's Note:**
> For Amber.
>
> Imported and headers adjusted for AO3, January 17, 2019.
JC thought he was going to be late for breakfast, but when he got there, Joey was just sprinkling pepper on his eggs, and Justin was pouring milk over his cereal. Chris was picking the blueberries out of a muffin, their juice running over his fingers as his nails dug in.
"Hey, C! What'd you dream about last night?" Chris asked innocently.
JC ignored him and picked up a piece of toast. After the field day Chris had had with his ladder dream, he knew better than to answer that anymore.
JC looked out at the seats, where Justin was sitting with his Walkman on. A few rows back Lance was clutching Joey's wrists in a way that would have been more effective if he hadn't been laughing so hard. Far up in the stands, Chris's mouth was open, yelling things JC was glad he couldn't make out.
"JC?" Andrew said. "One more time, okay?"
He readjusted his headset, closed his eyes, and then opened his mouth and sang. The line of the melody flowed out, clear and true.
"I think we're good," Andrew said when JC stopped. "Perfect. Yes. Now, Joey! Let's try your verse."
In the hall that night, JC saw Joey walking with his arm around the waist of a tall, blonde girl in a green skirt. She made a change from the string of brunettes over the last few weeks, JC supposed. Joey turned when he stopped to fit his key in the door and caught JC's eye.
"Night, Joe," JC said. The girl looked down at the floor, blushing faintly.
Joey threw him a grin. "Night, JC." He took the girl's hand and drew her into the room, and the door fell shut behind them.
JC got his own door open and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He should have called Bobbie tonight, he thought, but it was already so late. Tomorrow he would, for sure.
In the morning, he pulled his new sweater over his head, and the raw scent of knit silk settled over him. He paused for a moment with the cloth draped over his face, breathing it in.
"So, Joe, you're into blondes again now, huh?" JC said at the breakfast table.
Joey turned his head slowly and looked at JC. "What's that supposed to mean?"
JC hesitated, taken aback. "Nothing. Just - you know. The girl from last night, you liked her?"
"C, you're tripping," Joey said, his face relaxing. "The girl I hooked up with yesterday had black hair."
"Yeah, man, the one I saw you dancing with? She was hot," Justin affirmed.
"But, the girl you were with, in the hallway -"
"Black hair, dude. Not that I'd turn a blonde down, of course."
"Joey has catholic tastes," Lance said from the couch. "He'll do any color hair."
Joey threw him a lightning glance and then turned back to JC. "How about some coffee, C?" he said. "Wake you up a bit?"
"Uh," JC said, but Chris was already pressing a cup into his hand.
"Did you dream about a blonde, maybe?" Chris said, tugging sharply on a strand of JC's hair. "Was it a _good_ dream?"
JC shook off Chris's hands and bent his head to the harsh aroma from his cup.
"No, no," Justin told the interviewer. "Britney and I are just good friends, that's all. We know each other from way back."
"Waaaaaaaay back," Chris said. "They kicked each other in the womb."
JC pictured the two of them in a murky red glow, bickering just like they used to on set. Little knees and elbows jostling. He giggled. The interviewer looked at him oddly, and he composed his face.
When he was nearly settled, he made the mistake of glancing at Chris, who winked at him. JC's face went hot, and he looked away.
Bobbie reached down and held JC's wrist still. "It's okay, JC. I already came."
"You did?" he asked, startled. "When?"
She laughed. "Before." She let go of his arm then and leaned in to kiss his neck. "Let's just go to sleep now, okay? I have to be at the airport at seven."
"All right," he said, a little uncertainly. She settled her pillow under her head and tugged the blankets back over her side. He kissed her cheek once more. She smiled faintly without opening her eyes.
After Bobbie left, he ran into Chris in the hallway. Chris draped a clinging arm around JC's shoulders. "Morning, C," he said. "What'd you dream about last night?"
JC sighed. "You," he said, hoping that would fix Chris's wagon. It was true, even. There had been a train, a German-style train although it wasn't in Germany, and Chris had laid a hand on JC's knee behind a glass compartment door. Then other stuff he didn't remember, and he'd woken up with a hardon and Bobbie, already dressed, zipping her suitcase shut. Chris didn't need to know about that, though.
"Me, huh?" Chris said. He dug his fingers painfully into JC's ribs. "So, you dream about me often, baby?"
Maybe that hadn't been so smart. JC rolled his eyes. "Uh huh," he said. "Sure." He tried to claw Chris's hand away, but Chris held him in an iron grip until they reached the breakfast room. Then he was suddenly released as Chris ran to look at the credenza.
"Hey, who ate all the blueberry muffins?"
"I don't know, Chris," JC said. "Why do you care? You don't like them anyway."
"Sure I like them! They're my favorite kind, actually."
"Then why do you pull all the berries out before you eat them?"
Chris frowned. "What? I don't. I love blueberries."
Then Johnny came in to tell them about the photo shoots, and JC closed his mouth. |
b21253be4e0941fea917546e38bf33d0 | ['313e9684592c4c2d9884ddffca05c252'] | “ Yeah she’s like a garbage disposal” Peter said reaching down to help Stiles to his feet he began to help dust Stiles off and letting his hands linger on the younger mans chest. Someone cleared their throat from the side. It was the same woman Peter was talking to when he pulled up.
“ Dr. Stilinski it’s a pleasure to meet you my brother and niece have been non stop talking about you I’m Talia Hale” She smirked at the groan that came from Peter!
“ Nice to meet you too and just call me Stiles we’re here to celebrate right!” He smiled at her.
She smiled back!
“ your home is beautiful!! I love it!” Stiles smiled at her!
“ Thank you it took work but we had to restore it once my husband and I bought it and I am proud of it! Peter make yourself useful and give Stiles a tour of the house and than join us in the back for food!” She smiled at Stiles and walked away giving orders to a few people she passed.
“ Well you’ve met Hitler!” Peter smirked
Stiles Slapped him on the arm and started walking to the house. It was just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. There where many rooms and it had a open concept but was still homier than most homes. Stiles found out that most of the people out side with the exception of Peter’s nephew, Peter himself, his parents, and his niece all lived in the house. Once back out side Peter walked him to a seat next to Malia and got them both plates of BBQ. Peter sat on the other side and they ate and laughed and when done ( after Stiles encouraged her to eat the corn so she could hurry and grow into an adult) they walked and talked the three of them and soon it was night fall and the fireworks were going off Peter pulled Stiles into his side and all three of them sat close and watched the Sky, light up in all different colors. After the fire works Malia was beginning to fall asleep so Peter decided it was time for them to go home he invited Stiles over for coffee and once Malia was settled into bed they stayed up half the night talking. It was then when Stiles felt hope bloom that just maybe their were people capable of loving still out there.
8 months of dating later
It was a late Saturday morning Stiles, Peter, and Malia all were sitting in Stiles townhouse trying to decide what movie to start off their Stay in Saturday movie marathon when the mailman ran. Stiles collected it and skimmed through it until he saw it. It was like an it felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on his head. He stood frozen in the middle of the room eyes glazed with unshed tears. This must have been a joke it had to be. Because why on earth would Scott and Allison send him an invitation to their wedding. Since when did he purpose. Why would they think this was a good idea. He came back to when a worried looking Peter stood in front of him calling his name. Stiles looked up at him and just handed the invitation to him. He raced to his cell phone that was sitting on the table and dialed a number. On the second ring it was answered.
“ Hello Sheriff Stilinski”
“ Why would you think it was a good idea to send me an invitation..?” Stiles spat!
“ Stiles… Its been more than a year.. I haven’t heard from you in almost a year” His father whispered
“ Answer the question was this some kind of joke..?”
“ Stiles we just thought!”
“ WE….! “
“ Yes Stiles Melissa and I just thought you guys were best friends before that big misunderstanding!”
“ Misunderstanding I’m sorry yes we were best friends before, but that change when he became my boyfriend and than i caught him cheating with the same person he’s marrying and you guys thought it would a great idea to invite me to their wedding you really are the worlds worst father!!” Stiles said with so much hate in his voice.
“ Now wait a goddamn minute I’m still your father and you’ll show me some respect!!” John yelled back
“ MY father! You haven’t been my father since my mother died! When you decided that the bottle and your job was more important than making sure your grieving son was ok!.. So excuse me.”
“ You were 10 Stiles!!”
“ I was still a kid!! You don’t leave a 10 year old to take of himself! Did you know about my panic attacks, I bet you didn’t know for the first year after she died I cried myself to sleep. Or do you remember when you passed out drunk how do think you made it to bed huh sure as hell not by yourself!! I did!!! I did it because I knew its what MY mother would’ve wanted me to do, but you know what I’m Done I’m so done it not even funny I’ll be there to collect my mothers things that I had to pack up because you were to weak to do. And I after I do I swear to God I don’t want to hear not a single word from you until its someone telling me that you’ve died and when the funeral is.” Stiles fumed!
“ Stiles.. you’re my son!” John sounded broken
“ No John You have no right I’m finished, but don’t worry you have the family you’ve chosen the athletic/ golden son and the sweet soft spoken woman so there is really nothing left for you to say goodbye!” | 718089f5c0d44789a6f9edf07ba51225 | ['313e9684592c4c2d9884ddffca05c252'] | Rafe had been scowling whenever someone would mention this wedding and Stiles had a hint as to why. Rafe and John Stilinski had been best friends since middle school and when Stiles parents were killed heading to pick up a then 2 year old Stiles at his godparents house a dear ran out in front of them causing John lose control and wrap their car around a tree killing them instantly. After the call Rafe locked him and Stiles in his office and cried holding the toddler for over 2 hours before Melissa and than 6 year old Scott went inside and they held each other.
“Dad…. you’ll still be there for me right..?” Stiles asked
“ Of course anytime anyplace just ask. No! you don’t even have to ask just tell me your still my little Shyly wryly “ Rafe smirked down at the annoyed look Stiles had on his face.
“ Dad…! Stop!” Stiles looked pained
“Of course not! But you’re lucky I like Peter even though he’s way older than you”
“ Dad! he’s two years older than Scott!”
“ And Scott’s four years older than you so…yeah!”
Stiles just rolled his eyes at his fathers antic’s and gave him a bone crushing hug.
“ I love you daddy!”
“ I love you too Stiles” Rafe quickly wiped the tear that fell.
The doors to the alter closed right before it was time for Stiles and Rafe to walk down the aisle. Sleeping At Last’s song “Turning Page” began playing and the doors opened to the Beacon Hills nature Preserve Mansion revealing a beaming Stiles and a grinning Rafe.
It looked as if the whole town was there in attendance. (Which makes sense Claudia had been Beacon Hills youngest and most loved pediatrician while John was the towns favorite Deputy who let the people of the town off with warnings when stopped violating traffic laws. Their passing put the town in a very dark place and it took months before they even put the Stilinski house up for sale.) Stood at the alter was Peter wearing an identical tux only he was wearing a silk royal blue tie. Behind him Stood Derek and Peter’s best friend Erica. The other side stood Lydia and Isaac. They were all smiling as Rafe and Stiles making their way down the isle. Stiles and Peter’s eyes were locked the entire time. Stiles took his eyes off of Peter to glance at the guest that had showed. Peter’s side was full of Hale family immediate and extended members. Most only came because in Talia’s words “ no one believed someone was able to tame the beast that is Peter Hamilton Hale”. On Stiles’ side due to his mother and father being only children he had no living blood relatives, but to make up for it almost the entire town had showed up to support him like they’ve done his entire life since his parents died. And that alone made him tear up.
Next thing he knew he was being handed over to Peter just barely he almost had to snatch his arm out of his father’s. The guest were snickering and Melissa grabbed Rafe’s hand and squeezed it when he sat down. Stiles smiled at her and he received one in return.
When it was time the vows Stiles was first.
“I, Genium Stilinski- McCall ,choose you Peter Hale to be my husband. In front of our friends and family gathered here I promise to love and cherish you throughout the good times and the bad times. I promise to try to remember to put my dirty cloths in the hamper and to replace the toilet paper roll when its empty. (the guest all laughed) I promise to remember this day with love and roses. I will love you always. “
“ Now Peter will you say your vows for Genium”
“ I Peter Hale ,choose you Genium Stilinski-McCall to be my husband. In front of our friends and Family gathered here I promise to love and cherish you throughout the good times and bad times. I promise to try to not be such a “creeper” and embarrassing and to always be there to comfort your when the Mets lose. (Stiles gave him the stink eye) I promise to remember this day with love and roses. I will love you always. “
“Do you Genium take Peter to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death or zombies do you part?”
The room set of in laughter.
“I do” Stiles Smiled
“Do you Peter take Genium to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death or zombies do you part?”
Again their guest were laughing at the idiots in love.
“I do” Peter gave a bright smile.
“ Well by the power invested in me I now Pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Hale you may now kiss your husband.”
Peter surged forward while the entire mansion erupted in cheers and applause. The McCall’s were all crying and so were a few Hale’s. Peter and Stiles made their way down the isle holding hands and smiling at their guest.
The reception was being held in a massive white tent decked out with candle chandeliers out in a huge clearing on Hale land. The guest arrived first then the newly weds. They greeted everyone and made their rounds to most of their guest. Lydia and Derek gave toasts that made them all either cry or laugh. They ate and then it was time for the first dance.
They choose a song that made both of them think of each other. James Bay’s “ Let It Go” was a song they both loved and thought it would be romantic to have it as the song they first danced to as a married couple. Stiles guilt tripped Scott into singing it which made it even more special for him . Peter escorted Stiles to middle of the makeshift dance floor. Stiles laid his head on Peter’s shoulder with his face tucked into his neck and Peter tucked Stiles’ head under his chin as they begin to slowly glide their way around the dance floor to Scott’s smooth acoustic version of the song. Stiles closed his eyes and he felt like he was dancing on clouds. He never believed that he would ever be this happy without his birth parents in his life, but he was wrong. He knew for a fact now that his parents are and will be with him for the rest of his life and he was finally okay with that.
And as the guest all watched the love and affection of the newlyweds during their first dance no one noticed the slightly glowing figures in the corner of the room watching their son on one of the happiest days of his life. |
0cfc21714c2f41ad9ae9e7479f02b72b | ['313fba10be3a4e03b1b5ac9271681df4'] | The brown box on Barney's lap
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This one is set in the present day. Only in a moment in which Gunnar is particularly sober.
Gunnar came home and to his surprise, Barney didn't answer his grunt.
It wasn't particularly romantic, but each grunt had a particular meaning to them and Barney not answering the ' _I have groceries, come help me_ ' grunt meant he was lost after something more important.
Gunnar snorted and left the bags on the kitchen counter, securing them from falling before looking for Barney.
He wasn't ready for what he found.
Barney was sitting on the bed with that brown cardboard box, that Gunnar dreaded like death itself, in his lap.
He was browsing through the pictures, picking up one or the other, and staring intensely at some of them, as if to remember something long forgotten.
"What are you doing?" His voice sounded so far away from him, Gunnar was surprised when Barney actually raise his head and look at him.
"Hey... just looking at some pictures, I forgot I even had these..."
Gunnar's heart sunk and he felt the compelling need to tear the box away from his hands and destroy it and all of its content, to rid himself and the world of that box that had been haunting him for years.
Instead, he just stood there, motionless, with a faint feeling of sickness lingering on his tongue.
"Barney, can you stop?"
Barney turned his head from the box again, confused by the urge in his voice. "Why, are you alright?" He moved the box on the bed and walked towards the Swede, who in turn took a step back.
"... Gunnar, what's the matter?"
"Why are you doing that?"
"Doing what? Gunnar, they're old pictures-"
"Why were they in the back of the closet? Why have I never seen those in all these years?"
Seeing Gunnar so aggressive stopped Barney on his steps.
"How did you know they were in the back of the closet?"
"I don't- can you put them back, now, please?"
"Gunnar-"
"Please." He pleaded, almost desperately, gritting his teeth.
Barney glanced ad the pictures scattered on the bed. "... they're just old pictures, Gun..."
"Goddamnit, Barney!" Gunnar backed himself up to the living room, ready to storm out of the door to regain what little control over himself he desperately needed.
Barney caught up to him and weighed on the door to block his way out.
"Let me through."
"Tell me why you're so afraid of those damn pictures, Gunnar."
"I said let me through!"
"I swear to God I won't move until the end of time if you don't tell me!"
"I was afraid I would end up in that fucking box too!"
Barney squinted, thinking for a moment that Gunnar had completely lost his mind. "Gunnar..."
"Look, I've seen those pictures, alright? I did. It was twelve years ago. I saw the pictures of you and that guy and it scared me to death, ok?"
"Why would some old pictures be so terrifying?"
"Because you forgot him, Barney. You forgot him, you closed him in that box and that was it and you never spoke of him again. And you looked at him the same way you look at me and if you close me in a box too, I am nothing. I built my life around you, if you leave me and close me in that box, I am worse than dead." He hissed, his heart heavier with every word he spat out and his eyes stinging from the tears he was fighting to keep in.
Barney felt a knot in his throat and he took Gunnar's head in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye.
"How could you ever for a second think that I could live without you, you shithead?" He growled, angry.
It made him sad and angry and sick that Gunnar would put himself in comparison with someone he knew nothing about.
"I'd sooner die than forget you."
Gunnar grimaced and pushed his forehead to his, letting that weight on his chest go with a long, deep sigh.
"... can you put them away anyway, please? I don't like knowing you look at them..."
"I can do better..."
Barney forced himself to pull away from Gunnar and went back to the bedroom, picking up the pictures without even looking and stuffing them back in the box.
Gunnar followed him and kept following him to the back yard, where Barney placed the box on the lawn and fumbled in his pocket for his lighter.
He set fire to a couple of pictures and let them light up the whole box.
Barney went back to Gunnar and took a cigar from his shirt's pocket, his eyes locked on the flames.
"... thank you."
"It was long overdue. I thought of doing that every time I saw that damn box anyway."
"Why didn't you do it sooner, then?"
"Because I never thought it could harm you. And I'm not keeping something that can do that."
Gunnar said nothing, but he leaned on Barney with half a sigh.
He almost felt bad in thinking it, but that was the best love declaration he could ever want from him. | 17c2bdc455e74d96a264c110d5eb2bba | ['313fba10be3a4e03b1b5ac9271681df4'] | Barney doesn’t even try to follow him, feeling too sick to face him.
12. Making out
When Gunnar leaves the bedroom the next morning, the silence in the house is downright awful. Not a single sound, not even Barney’s regular breathing from the living room.
And not hearing him in the house after their last arguments makes Gunnar both angry and nauseous. After telling him explicitly that him leaving without a word was the cause he started drinking again, Barney still left, without a word.
With the pick-up keys gone, Gunnar grows cold with rage and calls up a cab to go pick up his bike and go at Tool’s to see if he knows where Barney is.
He still has to dismount when he sees the pick-up and it takes all he has not to smash the damn thing.
He enters Tool’s garage uninvited and Tool still looks at him as if he were his Lord Savior. “Thank God you’re here, I didn't know what to do with Barney anymore.”
“He’s here?”
“And he’s drunk as shit, I don’t even understand what the fuck he’s saying, he said you were gonna leave him for sure and he deserves it and he should have died-”
Gunnar does not let him finish and he goes straight for the back room, where the pitiful sight of Barney bent over the table greets him.
Barney barely makes out who entered and through the haze of ten too many drinks he doesn't even know if he can trust his eyes. “Gunnar-”
The Swede’s fist slams against his cheekbone so hard that before he reaches the floor, Barney has sobered up although his reflexes are badly hindered by the booze.
“Don’t you EVER leave like that again. Do you know what it does to me when you leave me like that? It _kills_ me, you shithead. Every time you leave without telling me and you wish death upon yourself and I hear it you might as well have stabbed be through the heart, how have you not understood this after thirty goddamn years? You have always been the only constant in my life, you did not really leave me even when you kicked me off the team but now that you started it’s like you can’t stop doing that!”
“Gunnar, I-”
“No, you listen to me, you should not have rather died, you should not even have left without me in the first place, but you did and now it’s behind us and I have a right to be pissed at you for it, because I am the unreliable son of a whore between you and me and still there was one and only one occasion you could not trust me, so if the unreliable son of a whore is capable of restricting his untrustworthiness into one single goddamn occasion, how many times should the much-better-adjusted team leader be untrustworthy?” He almost yells, his heart beating so hard it almost hurts as he waits for an answer.
Barney looks at him without replying and Gunnar gets even angrier at that. “TELL ME.”
“None…” Barney sighs.
“DO YOU REALIZE THAT IN THE ARC OF LESS THAN EIGHTY HOURS I SERIOUSLY THOUGHT OF KILLING MYSELF TWICE BECAUSE I THOUGHT I HAD LOST YOU?”
Barney pushes himself to his feet and he forces himself to walk up to Gunnar and just hold him in his arms. Much to his and Gunnar’s surprise, he doesn't push him away.
“Don’t leave me again…” Gunnar almost whispers, almost panting after his outburst, and he reciprocates Barney’s grip.
“I won’t, I won’t ever leave you like that again…” Barney pulls him down again to push his forehead against his.
Gunnar sighs in exasperation and relief before going for a kiss and then another and before Tool can check in on them, they’re half-undressed and full-on making up against the wall and, in the end, Tool can’t do anything but close the door and leave them to burn off the pent up stress they’d been under.
13. Eating ice cream
Every summer, Gunnar claims it is the hottest summer ever and he won’t survive and can’t possibly do so on a hot diet. So by extension, Barney ends up cooking and eating exclusively food that can be consummated cold.
But mostly, since cooking creates heat and heat is highly undesirable in summer, they end up eating every quality of ice cream known to man. Gunnar’s favorite thing to do is dig into a tub until he feels the bottom with the spoon, Barney is more of a klondike-guy but he’ll make an exception and be contented with eating straight from the tub too - provided that it is because he and Gunnar are watching tv and Gunnar mindlessly shoves the spoon in his mouth in between spoonfuls.
14. Always-a-girl!verse
Gudrund Jensen is not a morning person, especially not when she wakes up to a cold bed and Barbara is not in sight.
She stretches and moans softly in protest to being left alone, before actually leaving the bed to join Barb in the kitchen while she’s fixing breakfast.
Barb almost jumps as the Swede’s cool hands find their way through her shirt’s sleeves and end up on her tits.
“‘Morning…” Gudrund coos, finding some order in the world now that she can grope her wife a little, but Barb sighs in frustration.
“Hon, I have to cook, I really don’t want to end up elbowing you, it’s too early and you’re still sleepy and if I elbow you then you will take-”
“Blah, words…” Gudrund grunts and she resigns herself to go sit. “Can we get a job soon? I’m starting to get bored…”
“I’ll ask Tool, but I thought you were happy to know our fridge is fully stocked and neither of us has a reason to wear a bra.”
“... for approximately how long?”
“Like a week, if we really go antisocial.” |
6d26321b64a745ab93c0c78ec0df4153 | ['3156e3f4291f47afbc330900ae25c7c7'] | Zacharie couldn't read it anymore, he set the newspaper down and shuddered. "Dios mío.." He whispered to himself. He was relieved to hear the sound of a door opening followed by a bell ringing.
_A customer._ Zacharie throught to himself. _Something to distract me from this mess._
To his surprise, it was no customer, but his best friend, Sucre who he has knew since childhood. It had been about a month or two since he has seen her. She had a bob cut and a round face that always contained a smile. Sucre rushed over to Zacharie, reaching over the counter and pulling him into a tight embrace. "ZACHIE!!" She squealed with joy as Zacharie chuckled a bit. It was a few moments before he managed to escape the girl's embrace.
"So, how have you been?" She asked as she bounced excitedly, unable to contain her excitement.
"Oh, you know, the usual. Working and such." Zacharie shrugged.
Sucre's smile fell. "But Zachiiee.. You're always working.. " She whined, as if she were a small child.
"Well, I have to make money somehow." the merchant shrugged once more.
"Don't you ever take a break every once in a while?" The girl asked.
Zacharie shook his head.
"Well, there's a coffee shop down the street if you wanna go with me." Sucre offered.
"No can do, sorry." Zacharie responded.
"Oh.. Pleeeaaase..?" Sucre whined. "It won't kill you to leave your store for a little bit."
"Alright, fine." He chuckled.
"YAY!!"
~~~~
Zacharie sat at a small table across from Sucre,who had gotten a pastry of a sort, unsurprisingly .The girl was rambling on about a white dove she had gotten as a pet recently. She had named it Japhet. Zacharie wasn't paying attention all that much so he wasn't entirely sure. "..and he's really sassy. He does whatever he wants." Sucre said as Zacharie nodded. "Uh huh.. Cool."
Zacharie stared off into the coffee shop before something, really someone caught his eye. It was none other than the Batter, the person he had met yesterday. The merchant was genuinely surprised to see them here. The Batter was sitting alone at a table with tea. "Tea in a coffee shop, Batter?" Zacharie asked from across a few tables away. The Batter looked up from staring into space at Zacharie. "What?" His question hardly sounded like a question, more so just his usual expressionless tone.
Zacharie stood up from his table and approached the Batter. "Nevermind. How are you doing today?" the merchant asked. What the hell was he doing? Well, he can't get out of this now. It doesn't seem like he can start a conversation with the Batter without making him feel uncomfortable at the very least.
The Batter stared blankly at Zacharie, who soon realized something. "Oh! I didn't even introduce myself to you. How rude of me!" Zacharie facepalmed. "I'm Zacharie, the merchant that sold you items yesterday." He held out a hand for the Batter to shake. The Batter glanced down at Zacharie's hand before looking back up at his mask. Zacharie was internally screaming. "Alright." Was all the Batter said in response. He didn't even shake Zacharie's hand.
"You don't speak all that much. Why is that?" the merchant asked as he put his hands in his pockets. The Batter shrugged. "I assume you like baseball?" Zacharie asked to which they Batter quickly nodded.
"Really? What's your favorite team?" He asked in attempt to start some kind of conversation.
"Red Sox, I guess." the Batter responded.
This awkward conversation about baseball didn't go on for very long since Zacharie knew jack squat about the sport. He just wanted to get to know the Batter more. Surprisingly, the merchant had managed to get the man's number.
Zacharie walked back to the table he and Sucre were sitting at.
"Who was that?" She asked.
"Just someone I met the other day." Zacharie shrugged.
"Do you have a crush on him or something? You looked so awkward." Sucre teased.
"No! I'm not gay." the merchant could feel his cheeks heat up a little, he was thankful for his mask. "You're so immature." He shook his head.
~~~~
After his little "coffee break" Zacharie spent the rest of the day in his shop, selling items to customers and such. It was nearing the end of the day and Zacharie was debating on whether or not he should close the shop early. He ended up doing so, being tired from earlier today. The merchant flipped the sign on the door to "closed" before exiting the store, locking the door on the way out. Today was quite eventful.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> skrrt skrrt my hands hurt. I hope to do at least one chapter every day or two. Hopefully I have the time to do so.
> Comments are greatly appreciated :}
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is a P.O.V. switch.
"Where have you been, dear Batter?" asked a familiar voice.
The Batter looked down to see a thin, white feline rubbing against his leg.
"Out. Why? Am I not allowed to leave my house?" he asked, slight aggression present in his tone.
"You are putting yourself at risk of getting caught." the cat stated as looked up at the stoic man.
"Fool. He never gets caught, regardless of how much he purifies." Another voice said. A second white cat peeked around the corner of a hallway. It approached the Batter, who said nothing. The second cat wasn't as thin as the first and had thicker fur. It swayed it's bushy tail slowly. The thinner feline glared at the other before glancing back up at the Batter with an unsettling grin.
"Speaking of purification, have you given that red wall a fresh coat?"
"No I have not, thank you for reminding me, Pablo." the Batter said as he began searching around for something. | e09c26dc2b33498fb6953788eb00544f | ['3156e3f4291f47afbc330900ae25c7c7'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first fanfic I have ever posted, so I apologize if it's bad haha
__Zacharie was generally a simple person. He ran a small shop for a living and lived in an apartment on his own. The merchant sold all kinds of items, from decorations to even weapons. Few customers ever came, some being reoccurring while every once in a while, someone enters the shop out of pure curiousity.
The small masked man sat in his shop, softly humming to himself as he waited for customers. He ran a hand through his ebony colored locks in attempt to keep it out of his field of vision. Zacharie could never seem to get his unruly hair under control, it practically has a mind of it's own. He was wearing a mask that looked to be resembling a toad. He had gotten comments on it often. Some stating how it was unsettling to look at, while others were questions, asking what he hid beneath the mask. Typically, the merchant would reply with something snarky or try to change the subject. Usually, it worked.
Zacharie's fingers drummed against the counter he sat at as he let his mind wander. It was nearing the afternoon and usually customers never came at that time. The merchant could feel heat and moisture building up underneath his mask and it was getting quite difficult to breathe. He lifted the toad-like mask the slightest, so only his mouth was exposed. Faint scars criss-crossed on his lips and cheeks. Zacharie never showed it to anyone, as it was one of his greatest insecurities. The sound of a door opening and a bell ringing could be heard and Zacharie panicked a little as he hurriedly fixed his mask so it was back in its original position, sitting up straight in the process. A tall man (really tall, 6'0 at least), entered the shop. He appeared to be dressed in a baseball attire, as he wore a white jersey and a black baseball hat, or "dad hat" as Zacharie liked to call it.
"Buenos Días!" the merchant greeted the man with a smile. The smile wasn't visible due to his mask, but oddly enough, it could be heard in his tone. The taller male didn't answer. His face was expressionless as his cold stare was fixed blankly on Zacharie who chuckled. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" He asked in a teasing tone, to which the man huffed in annoyance before making his way toward the back of the store.
_Peculiar._ Zacharie thought to himself.
It was a few minutes before the man in baseball attire approached the counter Zacharie was sitting at, holding a baseball bat and a.. paintbrush? Quite a large paintbrush too, Zacharie had forgotten it was in his shop. The customer set the items on the counter. Zacharie checked the price tags before stating the total price for both of the items. The man nodded and took out his wallet.
"I haven't seen you around here. What's your name, amigo?" Zacharie asked.
The man mumbled his name in response. It wasn't very clear, but judging by the whole baseball theme around this man, Zacharie assumed he said "The Batter".
"The Batter..." Zacharie repeated. "I like it, it's suitable for your attire."
The Batter set the cash on the table as he nodded. Zacharie observed the Batter now that he was closer. The taller male seemed physically fit. He had pale skin and sharp cheekbones that were peppered in light freckles that weren't easily spotted at first glance. He also had eyes that were.. orange? Zacharie had never seen anyone with eyes that color, they seemed close to unnatural. He said nothing of it as the Batter picked up the newly bought items and exited the store.
"Strange man." Zacharie commented aloud once the Batter was out of earshot.
The merchant thought about how the Batter hadn't shown a single sign of human emotion. The peculiar man's very movements seemed to be unexpressive, complementing his facial expression. The Batter was intriguing to Zacharie and he wished to know more about them, why they behaved the way they did. Zacharie hoped he could see the Batter in the future.
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Not too proud with how this turned out, but it was 12 am at the time I began writing this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
The day after, Zacharie was in his shop as usual. He was there most days, since he didn't get much money from it. The merchant was wearing a different mask and instead of his white t-shirt, he wore a sweater with the same design. The mask he was wearing resembled a feline-like creature with an unsettling smile and two gaping, black holes for eyes. His legs dangled from the chair he was sitting at as he waited patiently for customers. He was quite short, usually friends would tease him for it. They never did it to be mean, more so just in attempt to be playful. That didn't mean it still didn't get on Zacharie's nerves though.
The merchant read through the daily newspaper as he bounced his knee. He read it occasionally, sometimes he didn't. Zacharie never cared for politics or celebrity gossip. He froze as he read the front headlines that were printed large and emboldened. "3 MISSING, 1 FOUND DEAD" it said. Just reading the title made Zacharie feel uneasy. The town he lived in was relatively small and typically things like this never happened. This was truly out of the ordinary. The newspaper described the discovered body to be covered in bruises. Several bones were broken and it's skull was fractured. But that wasn't what gave Zacharie the most chills, it was the fact that the body's abdomen was completely mutilated. Whoever or whatever killed this person, they wanted their death to be slow and painful. |
890b4ab3a2e143e7a036755df8de0dda | ['3159e6cdd33a4111b894315813d721a7'] | > "No, how horrible!" also, Mia tends to call her father "Daddy", prompting everyone around her to call him that as well. It's a trend in mexican novelas that rich girls call their dad's "Daddy" because they're daddy's girls (or at least last time I saw one it was? idk now) and as much as I've come to hate that freaking word, I want to stay true to Mia's character soooo... yeah, y'all are gonna see that often.
> "It seems like you know a lot about me and my family"
> "little girl"? it's basically chiquita but like this, it's used in a derogative way.
> "Guys" That's the male version of the word but! In Spanish, when you're talking to groups you use the male version of the words when there's both guys and girls, and you use the female version when there's only girls.
> "Damn you, Eva"
> "This idiot can't accept that my sister likes girls!"
> "Dude no way!"
>
> Okay! Hope you enjoyed that! If you have any suggestions or constructive criticism, leave a comment or hmu on my Tumblr, vlntncrvjl
4. Las Niñas Nuevas
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hellooooooo. I went to a field trip and passed out for a few hours yesterday instead of updating so I'm doing it now, I'm doing it for you gays! ❤️
Juliana and Valentina were sitting on Valentina’s already chosen bed, talking about everything that had transpired in the last 72 hours.
”I can’t believe you came all the way here and took the scholarship test just to be with me” Valentina’s smile was so big and contagious that Juliana couldn’t help but joke around.
”Who said anything about me following you? I came here for the free bed and food services” Juliana stood up from Valentina’s bed and walked over to her suitcase, starting to unpack.
”Oh?” Valentina plays along with an amused smile “And here I thought I was the luckiest girl alive! That my girlfriend had made this grand gesture to show her love for me” Valentina follows Juliana and stops behind her, arms wrapping around the shorter girl’s waist.
”Okay, now you’re just... Wait, girlfriend?” Juliana stops what she’s doing and turns her head to look at Valentina, who in turn looks at her with a small smile before hiding her face on her shoulder “No no, don’t do that, seriously, girlfriend?” Valentina looks at her again.
”Well... if that’s something you’d like?” Valentina looks at Juliana with hopeful eyes and the shorter brunette drops the shirt she was holding to turn around and hold the other girl’s face.
” _No se..._ ” She starts and she sees the light dim in Valentina’s eyes so she quickly continues " _...Pero me encantaría_ ” she smiles big when Valentina looks up quickly with wide eyes and a grin so goofy that she kinda ends up just like her, extremely happy.
” _Me asustaste tonta_ ” Valentina playfully slaps Juliana’s shoulder and Juls chuckles.
”I’m sorry, _novia_ ” Juliana says the word slowly and Valentina bites her lip at the words.
”Say it again?”
” _Tú, Valentina Carvajal, eres mi novia_ ” Juliana savors every word as if it was the most delicious meal she had ever tasted, barely moving her lips as Valentina’s come closer.
”I love how you say that” is the last thing Valentina says before she starts kissing Juliana. They were just getting into it when they hear the door knob moving. They quickly separate and Valentina walks away from Juliana, a hand covering her mouth.
” _Juli_! Come on, they’re calling all the seniors and the fourth years to go to the central yard" The Twins walk in and when they notice the girls' fast breathing and how they refused to look at each other, a lightbulb lit up inside their heads.
"Oh, our bad, we didn't realize you might be catching up" Dana says, a smirk starting to pull at her lips.
"Catching up?" Valentina asks, finally looking at them, hands on her hips.
"Well yeah, _Juli_ mentioned you knew each other" Ivana said casually.
"Did she?" the lighter brunette chimes, looking at Juliana who is suddenly very interested in her clothe "Did you, _Juli_?"
"I might have said that you're wonderful when they asked me if I knew you..." she mutters while folding her rainbow shirt, Dana looks like she really wants to say something but instead she just bites her fist, Ivana looks at her weirdly.
"Hey, you call her Juli too?" Ivana asks Valentina, who smiles tightly.
"No, I call her Juls, it fits better" Juliana's eyes widen, the twins look at each other and chuckle.
"Ah, I think you're right, we just call her that because when we were growing up it was her nickname" Dana smirks.
"Oh you grew up together? She didn't mention that" Valentina smiles again.
"Valentina!" Juliana was looking at the taller girl, her mouth hanging open.
"What? You didn't!"
"It's fine! Don't worry, we honestly hadn't really thought of her either until we saw her again a few moments ago" Ivana tries to wave off the comment, while Dana is trying not to laugh out loud "Anyways, we'll see you with the others, nice to meet you Valentina" and with that they walk out.
"I can't believe you!"
"What did I do!?"
* * *
Guadalupe Fernández, better known as Lupita, was about to have a nervous breakdown. It's not like she wasn't at the border of having one every other hour, but currently, she was about to have a nervous breakdown. You see, her younger sister Dolores, better known as Lola, was refusing to go to the meeting the principal had called them for.
"Lola please! We have to go!"
"Why Lupe? the fourth years have barely even had time to breath since we got here!" Lola huffs in annoyance "Everyone is paranoid thinking we're gonna turn out like your year!" | fdb3e6f4d0c147278a7aceb823f66735 | ['3159e6cdd33a4111b894315813d721a7'] | Valentina had the softest hair and she had the prettiest smile she had ever seen, and Juliana had a hard time not staring at her lips or getting lost in her eyes. She always made her feel normal even with all the fucked up things that happened in her life.
And now they were trying to take her away. Because that dumbass bland boy couldn't take his ego being hurt because his ex girlfriend (emphasis on EX, he had no RIGHT) was moving on and it just so happened to be with a woman. Eva wasn't making it easy either, she had received a text from her about an hour ago from Valentina's phone and it said that she was no longer allowed to speak or reach out to Valentina. She was livid, but when she tried to respond she saw that Eva had blocked her number, so now, hours later she was still trying to figure out how to contact Valentina when someone knocked on the door to her house. Heart racing she went to open it and saw a crying Valentina. Even with red and puffy eyes, she was still beautiful and it broke Juliana's heart that she was hurting like this.
"Juls..." the other girl whimpered and Juliana immediately brought her inside and hugged her close her, running one hand in circles around Valentina's back while she ran her fingers through her hair with the other one.
" _Chiquita, ay perdoname Val, debí ser más cuidadosa, yo debí..._ " Juliana tried to apologize but Valentina quickly started shaking her head and trying to look at her.
"This is not your fault okay? This is my sister being unreasonable and not being able to look past her prejudices to see that her little sister is finally happy" Valentina says and she leans her forehead on Juliana's and sighs as the shorter girl wipes her tears away.
" _Juls, me va a enviar a un internado..._ " Valentina whispers, voice cracking again, Juliana's eyes widen and she feels her breath leaving her.
"She can't do that! Val what are we going to do?" she questions.
"I'm sorry... _lo siento tanto mi amor..._ " the taller girl said as she started crying again and Juliana didn't have it in her mind to do anything other than hug her, she didn't know what to say to comfort her girlfriend.
"Shhhh, it's going to be okay _mi amor_ , it's going to be okay" Juliana tries to calm her down. She guided her to her room, making sure her mother didn't wake up.
They slept holding each other that night, not wanting to ever let go. Early in the morning, Valentina was gone and Juliana made a decision.
"Good morning _mija_ , here have some breakfast" Lupita smiled as she saw her daughter approaching the table. Once they both settle down to eat, Juliana looks at her mother.
"I want to take the test for the scholarship at the Elite Way School"
2. Welcome Students
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Hello Hello, I showed my friend screenshots of all the other anons that pitched in to this AU and they were shocked (honestly same) at how a lot of you were excited about it! Again, thanks for the support and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
When Valentina arrived at the Elite Way School, she notices that a lot of the guys and girls are in groups, most likely catching up with friends after the summer. She thinks she should feel nervous because she doesn't have friends here but then she remembers that she didn't really have friends in her old school to begin with. They were all Lucho's friends and that's because he was the popular guy there, she was pretty sure the only genuine friend he had was Sergio.
" _Ahí esta el director Gandía_ " Eva speaks up as the reach the entrance of the school, there, waiting for them was an older man, dressed in a business suit. He had spiked hair and wore glasses "Come on, we have to greet him and please, stop moping and act like you want to be here" she tells her before getting out of the car and leaving the door open for Valentina.
"I don't want to be here" Valentina sighs, looks at Jacobo, who gives her a sympathetic look through the rearview mirror, and starts getting out.
" _Señorita_ " Jacobo talked once he caught up with her, one of her suitcases in each hand "If you ever feel like this is too much, just call me and I'll help you escape as soon as I can" he told her with a complicit smile.
"Thank you Jacob, I really appreciate that" she smiled at him and the two walked up to Eva and Gandía in a comfortable silence.
"Ah, _Señor_ Gandía, this is my sister, Valentina Carvajal" Eva said, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder and ignoring how Valentina tensed up under her touch.
"Ah, It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Carvajal, I assure you, you will have the best educational experience here" he smiled at her as he extended his hand.
_Ay, que flojera._ Valentina thought as she smiled back at him and took his hand "The pleasure is all mine sir, I'm really excited to be here"
"Well, if you'll just follow me, I'll give you a quick tour of the school and then show you to your dorm" Pascual starts walking when Eva stops him and leads him away from Valentina.
" _Si hizo los arreglos que le pedi, verdad?_ " she whispers, he looks at her confused before a look of understanding washed over his face and his smile came back.
"Oh yes, I did exactly what you asked for Mrs. Carvajal" she nods and turns to make sure Valentina and Jacobo would follow as they entered the building.
**Meanwhile...** |
3dcbbc5bc03244cebddcffb97db11205 | ['319594279fe54d6b8d005ec4d5607ee9'] |
1. Baby - The Soft White
**Author's Note:**
> This story came out of one of those daydreams that, when you explain it, sounds like a movie instead of a concept. So I had to write it. So said Loki, and we all know she's always right.
It was soft. It was soft and white and she liked it. Her pudgy little hands fumbled with the roll until it came undone, bouncing across the floor. She followed it, her legs getting tangled in the trailing end as she crawled. It wasn't scary. She rolled on it, trying to grab her own feet and take the soft white off, but it followed her, got wrapped around her chest and hands. It tickled. It felt nice against her skin. She giggled, tugging at it as she sat up again. Some of it slipped down over her eyes and she shrieked with delight as it rubbed against her nose.
Suddenly, huge hands wrapped around her chest, under her arms, and lifted her up high, high into the air. The soft white moved, and she could see again. She could see a bushy reddish beard and dark brown eyes and with a squeal of sudden, delighted recognition, she grabbed her father's thick braids and tried to pull herself closer to him. The rumble of his voice washed over her, his words lost in his beard, muffled in her ears as he pulled the soft white gently away from her.
When the soft white was all gone, he pulled her close to his body, and she could hear his huge, strong heart thudding inside his ribs. Steady and even, never stopping, never faltering. Strong. Like her daddy.
2. Child - Bandaging
"Adad, let me do it!"
"In a minute, precious."
"It's not tight enough, Adad. Just let me do it!"
"How do you plan to tie this one-handed, I'd like to know?"
"Adad!" Her thin beard bristled with adorable righteous indignation. Her father, trying to hide a smile in his bushy beard, finally released the clean linen he was using to wrap his daughter's bleeding hand. He watched as she grasped the loose end in one hand and started to unwind it, then rebandage the injured hand with a quick twisting motion she had learned from watching the Healers work.
She got to the end of the bandage, and rather than tying it one-handed, she tucked the frayed end neatly between the prior layers. Then she flexed her hand, an expression of such fierce concentration on her round, childish face that the dwarf had to work not to laugh. Suddenly, she looked up at him, beaming like the midsummer sun, and held up her bandaged hand for his inspection.
"I did good! Like Nuncle Oin?" She smiled hopefully, and a look of pride crossed her father's face. His Uncle Oin had died before his little angel had been born, but Grandpa Gloin had told her plenty of stories. The dwarrow idolized her dead uncle almost as much as her living father. Gimli smiled and picked her up to give her a hug.
"Yes, kidhuzel. Like Uncle Oin." He held her. It was easy to imagine her grown and drifting away. He held her more tightly. "You'll be a great Healer one day. The best."
Her little fingers curled around the shell of his ear and tugged lightly. She was ready for a game. When he didn't respond quickly enough, she wiggled her fingers against the side of his neck, trying to tickle him, though she lacked the finesse to do it well. Her father laughed and retaliated much more skillfully, tickling her sides until she shrieked with laughter.
When tickling was done, she hid her face under his beard. "I love you, Adad." Then she released him, dropping to the stone floor and rushing off into the other room as she remembered that she had left her stuffed goat unattended on the green rug to "graze."
She didn't hear the words that rose unbidden to her father's lips. "I love you, too, nathith. Very, very much."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Khuzdul words:
>
> Adad - father
> kidhuzel - literally "gold of gold," a term of endearment
> dwarrow - child
> nathith - daughter
3. Apprentice - Burns
She felt him wince under the salve she spread with gentle fingers, and glanced up into his bearded face. His eyes were framed with a web of lines from squinting into a bright fire day after day, and his reddish hair sported flecks of grey, though his beard was still thick and dark. She felt herself sigh faintly, discomfited by these signs of age in him. Instead, she shifted her attention to his expression, which was just short of being a scowl.
"You know, this wouldn't happen if you were more careful," she told him severely, and immediately saw his eyes narrow defensively.
"Careful," he scoffed. "You don't know the meaning of the word, nathith." His voice was gruff, but there was no bite to it. He wanted to appear angry, but he wasn't, and she could tell. Fitting the lid onto her jar of salve, she returned his scowl.
"It seems I know the meaning of the word better than you do, Adad. I'm not the one with burns across all four fingers, am I?"
"That's hardly my fault!" growled Gimli, watching his daughter wrap his fingers individually in soft cotton so the burns could breathe and heal properly while not depriving him of the use of his hand for the next several days. "That idiot Horan put my hammer too close to the forge." | 2c16d149fcd3471aaddccf2507ccee5f | ['319594279fe54d6b8d005ec4d5607ee9'] | As she collapsed back against the wall, sobbing for breath, a cry of joy came from the man whose balding head was only partially visible between her legs.
"Here he is! You've done it, my lady! Your son is born!" He sounded exultant, and her mind couldn't comprehend why he was so happy. Not at first. A maidservant with swollen fingers from Dany's crushing grip helped her to the bed, and the woman fell onto the cushions, too exhausted even to think about how old Maester Wolkan had seen every inch of her flesh, from crown to toe.
A thin, pathetic wail came from the bundle in the Maester's arms, and as he approached, he swaddled the babe with practiced ease and pressed the infant into her arms. She didn't want to hold a baby. She was tired. She wanted to sleep.
Then she looked into his tiny face. Her son's skin was red and wrinkled, like he had spent too long in a very warm bath. But she could see in his round, baby-soft features, that reflection of the man he would be. A strong jaw, the signature Stark nose, and he had Jon's ears. She saw all this in a moment, but she kept looking, drinking in his appearance even as she began to reflexively bounce him a little in her arms, as she had seen other women do.
"You're alright. You're alive and well, my little one," she crooned, and felt the wonder of the words even as she said them. He was alive. Alive and well and whole. Struck by sudden anxiety, she opened the baby's blanket to look at the rest of him. Yes, all his fingers were there, and all his perfect little toes. His belly still showed the ragged remains of the torn cord that had linked his life to hers while she carried him, and when she looked at Maester Wolkan in concern, he smiled.
"It will dry up and fall away in a few days, my lady," he assured her. "That is normal for all children."
Carefully, she replaced the blanket, tucking it tightly around his little body and pulling him close to her chest, as if to keep him warm, though the room was already stifling. She liked it that way, and Jon almost always undid all the good of it by opening the window at night. Not this night. Not while their son was here. Their son.
"Our son," she murmured, and closed her eyes. Only for a moment, she told herself. She would only close them for a moment, just to rest. Then she would feed him. But when she opened her eyes, she knew at once she must have slept, because the maidservants and the Maester were gone, and in their place there was Jon. He sat on the chair beside their bed, looking down at her with such a tender expression that she nearly blushed.
"Our son," she repeated faintly, and showed him the tiny babe.
"He's perfect," said Jon in a whisper, and smiled broadly when the infant opened his eyes, round and soft and unfocused. "He has your eyes." Jon grinned delightedly, brushing the babe's downy cheek with one calloused finger.
"I suppose he does." Dany looked down into the little face, seeing that her son's eyes were pale lavender, almost blue. She had a feeling that they would darken. Maybe someone had told her that once - that babies' eyes got darker as they grew. "But he has your ears."
"Do you like my ears?" asked Jon, looking almost concerned.
Dany laughed. "I love your ears. They're yours, and therefore mine. Of course I love them."
The infant started to wail, and at first, Dany didn't know what to do. A maidservant came in and showed her how to hold the baby so she might give suck, and her son latched onto her breast and began to feed hungrily. It actually felt pleasant, which was both a surprise and almost soporific. She felt her body reacting to the sensation by relaxing,and blinked heavily.
"Don't let me drop him."
In a moment, Jon was in the bed beside her, covering them both with a soft, heavy lambskin. "I won't. I promise."
"Jon?" Her eyelids were so heavy. It was hard to keep them open.
"Yes?"
"Why do you love me?"
"Because you have my heart. I couldn't do anything but love you."
"And you have mine." This was nonsense. She was half asleep. "Don't drop it."
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is the end! I hope you enjoyed it.
>
> I've received some feedback, and it looks like, after I finish Hobbit Holocaust (which I should post another chapter on later today) I'll be working on an old idea that's gotten a relatively new twist: Dragon Sickness. Next up after that, Stone Speaker (which some of you might remember as the follow-up for Tilly's Birthday. (Good luck finding that, when I can't remember the title myself!)
>
> Until next time, try not to overwork yourselves and whatnot!
**Author's Note:**
> Some of you might have noticed that the other 5 chapters of this work were taken down shortly after they were posted. This is by request of House_Hornwood, who commissioned the piece. I will post a new chapter each Friday until all 6 chapters are up.
>
> Thank you for your patience and understanding. |
bbcad99a001a4e6eb0a5c5a019b75f94 | ['31a2b86c2d0c4d8daf37b0b43945582a'] | Alex tried to remember what was so special about the original New York. It was certainly a thing in her head, the name of the city: "New York." She knew it was American, and she knew that it housed a statue of a green woman called the Statue of Liberty. She had those basic facts just like she had the basic fact in her head of the Earth and humanity being a thing that existed, but she didn't know anything else about it. The way Rose laughed made her think it must have been a pretty big deal back on Earth. (Not to mention the fact that there had been fifteen since the original.)
"You're so different," Rose told the Doctor.
"New New Doctor," he joked.
They laughed, and Alex kept quiet—not because she didn't have anything to say (not that she did), but because she felt like that was a private matter between them. Whatever regeneration was, it seemed to be a big deal. Alex would have bet anything that it was what made the Doctor act so erratic and strange back when he first woke up on the TARDIS. He was much calmer now.
After a few minutes, Rose asked, "Can we go visit 'New New York,' so good they named it twice?"
The adults stood up. Alex reluctantly followed, brushing apple grass out of her hair and off her pants. It was a good thing they were black, or it might have left an unforgivable stain. Her off-white shirt on the other hand... Oh, she hoped Jackie wouldn't be mad.
"I thought we might go _there_ first," the Doctor said, nodding at a large set of buildings on their side of the lake. It was a bit more futuristic than the other buildings, silver and slick and not quite symmetrical with a realistically-shaped crescent moon on the side.
"Why? What is it?" Rose asked. At the same time, Alex asked, "Why come?"
"Some sort of hospital." The Doctor shrugged his coat back on properly. "Green moon on the side. That's the universal symbol for hospitals. I already thought this would be a good time to take Alex. There's, um, gotta be records of the whole of the human race, and a hospital is a great place to start—but also..." He dug something out of his pockets: A little leather flip-book with a single piece of paper inside. Leaning close, Alex saw that some words were scrawling themselves out as if by an invisible hand.
_Ward 26_
_Please come_
"Message on the psychic paper," the Doctor announced. "Someone wants to see me." He pocketed the psychic paper and grinned that wild grin of his at Rose. "Two birds with one stone. What do you think?"
Despite the fact that he wasn't looking at her, Alex nodded. "Efficient."
Not to mention, she noted internally as they began to walk toward the futuristic structure, it was something to satisfy her curious taste for adventure. What sort of psychic alien being wanted to see the Doctor? And what were they doing in a hospital? Her tongue tingled with anticipation.
The walk to the hospital was almost worth an entire trip on its own. Alex couldn't remember a more pleasant—well, okay, she couldn't remember anything, but it was very nice. The hospital from close up was absolutely _enormous,_ probably bigger than any single building in New New York, though that was just Alex guessing. Flying cars had been parked on one side at various levels of elevation around the hospital, which seemed a bit strange since there didn't appear to be any doors above the first floor. Inside, there was movement, but it was the calm, slow movement of a... well, a hospital.
As they approached, the Doctor let out a violent shiver.
"What?" Rose asked.
"Hospitals," he offered as explanation.
The revolving doors unleashed on them a very, _very_ clean odor, sanitary and polished. Alex could almost _smell_ her ghostly reflection in the glass of the inner doors.
"You don't like hospitals?" she asked the Doctor indignantly. He shivered again as they passed through the next set of doors and into an even thicker air of artificial cleanliness. It wasn't a _bad_ smell, just jarringly different from outside.
"Bit rich," Rose said, "coming from you."
"I can't help it! I don't like hospitals. They give me the creeps."
Alex thought of something she couldn't keep to herself. "Is that new? Like a new new Doctor thing?"
The Doctor laughed a bit. "Well, maybe. I suppose, probably, yes."
The interior of the hospital, aside from the slick smell, was very polished architecturally. The floor was smooth and shiny, but their footsteps didn't make a whole lot of noise. Banners of translucent plastic hung along on either side of the walkway perpendicular to the entrance, there was a cozy-looking resting center a little ways ahead of them, and the walls were a fancy combination of wood, plaster, and metal. A little ways down, a sort of nook opened up under the wooden wall to the right, and Alex could see what looked like futuristic doors... or maybe just elevators.
People walked by them in small groups of one or two or three. The hospital was by no means empty, but it was big enough that no one had to crowd around each other. A lot of these people were wearing white robes with hoods that Alex felt she should know the name of. They walked gracefully, almost saintly, like... Nuns! That was it. They looked like nuns. Proud of herself for remembering that small descriptive detail, Alex glanced at one's face and choked.
It was a cat.
The nun's face was that of a tabby cat's, only in a slightly flatter, more humanoid form. The cat woman noticed her gaze and nodded. Alex forced a smile and nodded back, then picked up the pace to keep up with the Doctor and Rose.
That was probably normal. | 7fe2008ce10c450a9103ce09106e0fdb | ['31a2b86c2d0c4d8daf37b0b43945582a'] | Alex followed, more hesitant, but she had to stop at the handrails by the ramp when Rose screamed, "The door— _close the door!"_ and Mickey ran back to pull it shut. He didn't do this, however, before Alex saw the room outside, and the aliens with the horrible red faces and skulls on the outside of their skin. She saw other people as well, but those were what caught her attention.
She dropped her mug and ran back to the console. She almost tripped on the Doctor on the way to the screen, where she stopped and tapped at it desperately. Mickey had said it picked up signals. If they were on the ship—
The screen turned to static. Alex froze. The picture showed something fuzzy and from a strange angle, but she could just make out Rose's hair. She was hugging someone, presumably one of the humans Alex had seen. She pulled away, and...
Something was wrong. The air was hotter than it had been a moment ago, and it felt damp. Alex looked down and realized there was steam arising from where she'd dropped the tea earlier, and also from where she'd dropped her mug... also with tea in it. Had she just broken this place?
The Doctor suddenly inhaled. Alex jumped again. She backed away from him, forgetting the screen for the moment. She didn't notice when it flickered off. She was too focused on the Doctor, who had just exhaled gold smoke and was now rolling over now and groaning.
"Blimey," he croaked. He did his best to sit up. It was very clumsy, but he managed it. Then he sniffed. "Chamomile? No. Earl grey. No..."
Alex thought the smell _was_ very nice, but something under the floor was sparking, and she didn't think that was probably a very good sign.
The Doctor pushed himself forward, grabbed the edge of the console, and dragged himself to his feet. He inhaled deeply, then let out a noisy sigh that made Alex jump again. "AH! That's the stuff. Now... what... where..." He didn't seem to have noticed Alex. He was shuffling around the console, apparently looking for something. "That's no good," he muttered. "Translation circuits—" He stopped.
Alex gulped. He'd seen her. This man had wild eyes. His hair was wild, too. The pajamas didn't help.
"Who're you?" he asked indignantly.
"Alex," Alex sputtered. "Uh, you—y-you're the Doctor."
The Doctor swayed a bit on his feet. When he'd managed to still himself, his wild frown flipped into a wild grin. "Yes I am. Okay, right. Gotta get those translation circuits back online. Won't do if—"
He fell over.
Alex stared, unsure as to whether she should go over and help or get as far away from him as possible. She knew for certain that it wouldn't do to laugh, although she was tempted. "Are you—?"
"Fine!" The Doctor leapt to his feet. "Just recovering. I— _urp."_ He burped up some golden smoke.
The steam from the tea was everywhere now. Actually, Alex was fairly sure there hadn't been enough tea to make this much steam at all. In fact, she was definitely sure tea steam didn't smell like smoke.
The Doctor ran around the console, this time flipping switches as he went. He pressed a button, and fans turned on somewhere. The smoke retreated. Alex's rising panic went with it.
"That's better." The Doctor beamed at her. The smile was familiar, like Rose's hair, only... more. She couldn't help but smile back as he went on, "Now I can get to fixing the translation circuits. They must've been damaged in the crash. I crashed the ship this morning. Was it this morning? Did you know this was a ship? It's called the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. I'm the Doctor, by the way. Who are you?" He'd said all this almost absently while going around the console again. Now he ran over to a random part of the room and lifted up some of the floor. He jumped down into it so Alex could only see the spiky top of his hair.
Alex decided she liked him very much. "I didn't know it was a ship," she told him. "And I'm Alex. But I already—"
"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm the Doctor."
"You said that already."
"Did I? I guess I'm not sure." The TARDIS made a small bubbly noise, and the Doctor lifted himself out of the floor. He replaced the grate and stood. Thoughtful, he said, "I guess I can't be sure of anything. Who I am, what I am. _Well,_ I suppose I _am_ the Doctor, but beyond that, it's all brand new. I— _urp."_ He burped up a little more golden smoke.
"What's that?"
"Regeneration energy." The Doctor sniffed. "That should be the last of it. Now, Rose'll be waiting for me. Mind if I ask you to hang back? I like a dramatic entrance."
Alex watched the Doctor walk to the door and take hold of the inner handles. He stood there for a moment with his head down. Alex slowly stepped up behind him, being sure to "hang back" just enough. Finally, he swung open the doors. Rose was on the other side, along with the aliens and Mickey and someone Alex didn't recognize.
"Didja miss me?"
Rose's smile was so relieved that Alex wondered if the man had been dying.
The Doctor walked out to greet the wolf, but one of the aliens screamed and threw a line of electricity at him. He raised a hand to defend himself, and—
—the TARDIS doors slammed shut. Alex ran and tried to pull them open, but they wouldn't budge. She was trapped inside.
On the other side of the doors, she heard shouting, then a snap. Then, "Now _you_ just wait. I'm busy!" |
c7ba6b9e49ea4493ba01b88aca634cb1 | ['31dbd66807ab47139e3a4f825f5e3429'] | Sans glanced into the kitchen, though he wasn’t sure he would actually be able to find it from his room at this point. He was pretty sure he had no idea where his room was right now. He didn’t really care about that, though. The whole tour he’d been waiting anxiously to find out one particular thing, but it hadn’t come up.
“W-where do we, uh...work?”
RC waved a hand.
“Changes every night. You get a note every morning with directions to the room you work, unless you’ve got lounge duty. Lounge Nights are usually twice a week, but sometimes you get called in for special ones on off-days.”
“Okay...that isn’t too bad...” Sans mused, trying to distract himself from wondering when his first job would be.
RC snorted, turning to face Sans.
“That’s it for the tour, but I got somethin’ to say to you.” He held up a finger. “Don’t go near Scratch. Don’t go near the dogs. Don’t wait the crocodile’s table every Lounge Night, cause he’s Cecil’s regular. And do everything I fucking say exactly when I say it, without fucking around like an idiot or asking me why. Got it?”
“Y-yes...” Sans flushed and looked down at the ground. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, trying not to tear up. He was trying to help Sans out, and obviously knew more about this place than he did. There was just something about the way he said it that made Sans feel like he was in trouble.
RC took a step backwards.
“Aw jeez, don’t make that face. Just suck it up and don’t let anyone see you like that.” He leaned forward again. “And as far as Scratch and the dogs know, you don’t even exist. They show up, you disappear, understand?”
“I,” Sans started to ask, but remembered that he wasn't supposed to ask why. Instead he nodded. He did wonder why he couldn't see the dogs. They were as close to friends as he’d had back...Were they not, here? Oh god, were they...clients?
“Good,” RC said shortly, then turned and started walking away. “Your breakfast is in the cafeteria in an hour. Don’t go in when I’m in.”
“Okay...” Sans watched him walk away with a sense of confusion. As soon as he was out of sight, Sans realized he still wasn't sure how to get back to his room. It had been close to the cafeteria, right? Maybe he could even catch sight of RC and trail behind him.
Hesitantly, Sans did just that, but didn't actually see him again. After wandering for what felt like three times as long as the tour had taken, he found a familiar intersection. He hoped. The rec room was just down here. Right? Someone there could help him.
Sans hoped so. With Mustard gone, he was starting to feel like he was all alone.
***
Muffet showed up at Sans’s door just as the night was getting on. She knocked, but, unlike the native Sans, didn’t wait for Sans to answer. She merely let herself in.
“Good evening dearie. How was your first day?”
“Um, f-fine...”
Muffet tapped up to him and straightened his lapel.
“Well, you’re looking just adorable. Hm, yes, I think we’ll leave you in this one for tonight.”
Sans shrunk into himself. Muffet didn't exactly scare him. She just made him...uncomfortable. Always...touching him.
“Tonight?” He asked, her actual words making it through suddenly.
“Ohh, honey...” More of Muffet’s hands went to Sans’s face, cupping it and lifting it to look at her. “You’re nervous. It’s perfectly all right. I’ve picked out a client just right for you to start, so you just relax and be good.”
“Oh,” Sans squeaked, eyelights shrinking. It was happening. He really wanted to pull his skull away. He needed to panic about the client.
“All right, now be a dear and come along.” Muffet let go, leading the way out the door.
Sans followed, absently trailing after her. His mind was filled to the brim with questions and worries. What was the client going to be like? Would they be nice? What would they want him to do?
Muffet led him the rest of the way without saying another word, but she hummed to herself. Sans was suddenly reminded of Onion. He relaxed a little. Onion and Muffet had the same goal. He trusted Onion, and he should trust Muffet, too. By the time they got to the door, he was a little closer to her.
Muffet stopped and opened it for him, holding onto it.
“There you are. I’ll be right here for you when you’re done.” She pet his head. “You’ll be fine.”
“I just...? Alone?” Sans leaned away from the doorway, like it was going to swallow him up. He knew this was coming. He could do it with Onion... but this was a stranger.
Muffet giggled.
“They didn’t come to see _me_ , dearie. It’s all right.” She waved two right hands at the doorway, gesturing Sans in. “They won’t hurt you.”
Sans inched forward, trembling. He felt just like he was answering the demon's summons. It wasn't that he didn't trust Muffet, but there was so much more to fear than pain. He could be asked to do something awful. He could fail and disappoint Onion.
The room was dim, and the first impression Sans had as he entered was a stronger, more vivid image of Onion in his mind. It took him a moment to pin down that it was the smell that triggered it. A slightly salty, damp smell of sea life confined to Underground lakes; a mineral smell that evoked a picture of a pitch black cavern and slippery appendages. | 19b5a5f74b2f44a595534713d0b71fab | ['31dbd66807ab47139e3a4f825f5e3429'] | The rope fell away, releasing his leg. When Sans didn’t struggle, Stretch reached across to his other leg, untying the rope there. Sans just let it slide to the floor too, staring up at the ceiling. As his legs stretched out to either side of Blue, his cock was released.
“READY TO PLAY, PAPY?” He asked.
That made Sans jolt. He scrunched both his legs up and attempted kicking himself away from them across the floor. Stretch caught his left leg, pulling it up sharply. Sans stopped kicking and let out a long whine. He _sounded_ like a dog.
“bad dogs don't get to come,” Stretch warned as Blue climbed to his feet and stepped away.
Sans brought his free leg up anyway, bending it over his crotch in a very poor last attempt at modesty. He shivered in Stretch’s grasp.
His other leg was released as Stretch shifted to take Blue’s spot in front of him. Sans brought the other leg in to cover himself, too.
“look, he’s shy,” the taller skeleton said with an amused chuckle.
Sans just laid on his back, shaking. He wasn’t eager to be grabbed like that again, but as painful as the erection was, now that his cock wasn’t being stimulated directly, the rest of his situation was coming clearer again. They’d taken him in his sleep, tied him up like this...they were talking about keeping him as a pet. What was going to happen to him?
Stretch reached down and slipped the vibrator out of him, stopping to drag the tip around his anus before setting it aside. Sans’s hips gave a jerk at the touch. A breathy noise came out of him that was definitely not the kind of noise he wanted to be making.
“like that, hm?” Stretch asked. “then you’ll enjoy this.” He unzipped his pants, letting them drop slightly to reveal his long orange cock.
Sans went completely stiff. He didn’t know why it shocked him, but maybe somewhere in his head, he’d thought the brothers were just planning on playing around with him. Not this. This was definitely, absolutely, not okay. He kicked his legs out again, rapidly, wildly, lurching onto his stomach and scrabbling as fast as he could.
Stretch lunged forward and grabbed his leg again, pulling him back along the rough carpet. Sans flinched as his cock was rubbed on the floor.
“he really does need to be trained.”
Blue stepped in front of Sans and gave him a smack on the head with the newspaper.
“BAD DOG! STAY!”
Sans started fully sobbing, trying to curl up into a ball. His efforts were ignored as Stretch grabbed his pelvis with one hand. Sans could feel the tip of Stretch’s cock rub against his flesh. He gave another jerk, less to escape and more simply to express his panic. Garbled noises of fear came out of his stretched mouth, drool dripping down his chin.
Stretch slid into him easily, with a long, low groan.
Sans’s back arched at the intrusion. His cock gave another needy twinge, his eyes rolling up at the sensation of Stretch sliding into him, of being filled. When Stretch was all the way in, Sans shook his head, tears still dripping from his sockets. His shoulders trembled.
He knew it was useless, but he still attempted to speak, a “hwehhh wehhh” coming out instead of “Stretch, please.”
Sure enough, Stretch ignored him and began to slowly pull out before thrusting in again.
“Ha-anngh!”
At least this didn’t hurt. At least they weren’t hurting him, right?
Except for the aching erection, still stuck with the degrading dog toy around it.
“I’LL GO CLEAN UP BREAKFAST, YOU TWO HAVE FUN.” Blue turned to walk away.
“ngh.” Stretch seated himself fully inside Sans. He paused for a moment. “he’s still got a hole, bro, if you want.” Blue stopped and turned back.
Sans shook his head again. He tried wriggling his body, but all he managed was to flop like a dying fish on land.
Blue knelt down in front of Sans. “ONLY IF YOU DON’T MIND, PAPY. HE’S YOUR PRESENT.”
“go ahead,” Stretch said, and then started to thrust again. Blue lowered his pants, pulling out his cock, without wasting a moment. He had clearly enjoyed everything up to this point.
Sans looked at the cock, then at Blue’s face. He tried so hard to get out a ‘don’t make me,’ but it came out as comprehensible as the rest of his words.
“I KNOW IT’S HARD ADJUSTING TO A NEW HOUSEHOLD, RED, BUT YOU'LL GET USED TO IT.” Blue told him. “JUST HOLD STILL.”
Blue’s cock pressed into his mouth through the ring. Sans couldn’t do anything to prevent himself from tasting it. Moving his tongue only made him lick it, and trying to make more noise resulted in Blue’s cock giving pleasured twitches.
“MM, GOOD BOY,” Blue praised. Stretch picked up the pace, wrapping one hand around Sans’s cock and jerking. Sans yelled around the dick in his mouth, his legs kicking uselessly.
Both monsters continued to use him for their pleasure. Stretch gripped his pelvis, making sure to drive as deep as he could with every thrust. Blue set his hand on Sans’s head, moaning out encouragement as Sans was pressed forward onto his cock with each movement from Stretch.
Sans gave up. His body went slack, and he accepted the treatment with only some weak whimpers coming out of his throat.
“FEELS SO GOOD,” Blue groaned. He held Sans’s skull between his hands and went deeper, hitting the back of his mouth. Sans’s whimpers turned into choked, garbled sounds.
“yeah,” Stretch grunted. He began to pull on the ring, slowly sliding it down Sans’s cock.
Sans’s pelvis jerked involuntarily, but after that he held as still as he could. He shut his eyes. Just take it off just take it off… |
8dad1198dc5f43df807baf55641032dd | ['31e1973a927344f0b6f9f473e94fbec5'] | The Zen tried to get past, but the kids moved to block their way again.
“Shouldn’t we say something?” Sablo said.
“Who cares, it’s a Zen. They’re quiet and creepy and might be dangerous. There’s loads of gangs and drugs in Zen. Then they come here and take our jobs, money and mates.” Rathaniel said, taking care to put their finished drink in the recycling bin. “Let’s go practise our lines for the play.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This is one of my first attempts at writing fiction. I like to contemplate the meaning of maths and physics and their place in society, and was particularly inspired by the progress of AI research over the past decade. Also, I hope to touch on some issues such as immigration, climate change and religion. And meaning of life in the face of unbeatable entropy and inevitable heat death.
>
> \- My intent is that Zeno is partially inspired by Carnivorous Muffin's Rabbit (I'm a fan!) and also of course Zen, Zeno and myself. I'll try to keep Zeno gender neutral
\- I aim for a tone of Greek epic/biblical narrative while discussing issues
\- This may be a bit of a bizarre love story between two cultures from Zeno's perspective.
>
> At least those are some vague ideas. I don't really know if this is going anywhere, and it could be terrible.
2. A plot brewing
In which we delve into Jerichoan society and culture
* * *
The politics of Jericho was dominated by its constitutional law, a series of documents cobbled together by successive parliaments. The versions from the last few years included the mission statement for the government:
* Protecting its citizens from external threats
* Maintaining social order and justice
* Providing services such as water supply, waste collection, education and healthcare
* Safeguarding the fundamental human rights of all its citizens.
The parliament was selected by elections with a delegate from each of the several thousand districts that Jericho was split into. Most of the delegates were elderly men who had spent their whole lives in politics rising from positions that ranged from supporting local council members to mayorships of small towns. Many of the others had been leaders of religious communities. The parliament would elect its Chief Executive who would then choose the Executive Council members to be responsible for directing each of the government departments. The parliament would then vote on new bills to pass or reject new laws or government actions.
Each government department would have a large staff to implement government decisions and to collect statistics to measure their progress and impact. These departments would communicate with the political branches of lobbying groups such as business representatives and religious representatives. They would share their latest data, and also their thoughts on what the future direction of government should be, and how to implement it. This is where the fiercest debates would be held, and any agreements would be passed back up to the chain of command in the Executive Council as advice or recommendations.
In the East End of the capital Jericho City was a hill of greenery and perfumed gardens. Within it stood the parliament building, an iconic white marble fortress that had its back to the Table-Top Mountain. This placed it away from the busy rumblings of industry and fishing and shipping on the West Coast, and also allowed it to have an early view of trucks carrying mined material that would arrive at the eastern Gate of Dawn. There were tell-tale signs it had been built before the Imperial era, such as its colonnades of vaulted Ionic columns supporting arched gateways that led to tall bronze doors. On the roof, dignified figures of wise deities watched austerely over the rest of the city.
The building itself had five storeys but as the halls were expanded to emphasise a sense of grandeur, it could be mistaken for a ten-storey building, a presence that would have been visible anywhere in the city before the modern skyscrapers. But rumour was that there were far more levels below ground, storing information too secret for the public in catacombs built by the ancients. After all, its location was on an ancient settlement, and towering ruins could still be seen all around the Table-Top mountain. How the ancients had managed to not just survive in such an arid place, but to have such a flourishing culture as to build great constructions, no-one knew.
In parliament, today was a day as unusual as any other. In the chambers, journalists mixed with delegates in a loud hubbub. In the corridors, there were people walking as fast as another might run. In your office, a cup of coffee would have already been made for you from the morning tea trolley. At your computer, your inbox would be busy with requests for meetings. Neighbouring voices would be complaining about how things kept going wrong even with more money and time spent on a top priority project. A statistician might come by asking you to submit a data report. And the office cat would still turn a steely stare if you didn’t give it enough attention. But there would always be something different about each day that you wouldn’t expect.
Today, the latest news to trouble the Foreign Office was from the land of Zen. In Jericho, most people thought that even if they didn’t know much about Zen, there was obviously an expert who would know, so it didn’t bother them much. But even to ministry officials, Zen was a mysterious land that few people had ever visited. Only in recent years had there been some diplomatic exchanges, with Jericho inviting some Zen in to settle and exchange culture. But the ambassadors to Zen had just been thrown out. The word was that they had been too forceful in negotiating to buy more silk. Jerichoans liked to import the rare Zen silk as no-one knew the secret of its production. The wealthy wanted clothes fit for an emperor.
This was causing plenty of anger at the Foreign Office. Who did the Zen think they were? There were mutters of retaliating using force. Some secretly admired their fighting spirit.
It wasn’t going much better for Cahethal, a data analyst in the Department for Food. The last few years hadn’t produced much rainfall, and Greek plantations were suffering. The price of olive oil was sure to go up, making it more expensive for everyone to cook and bathe. They were almost missing the boring problems of regulating food quality that had troubled them in recent years.
As with most people, they felt inspired and in awe when working in a place of such great knowledge, and there was no better place than the library. The library chalkboard was full of scribbled equations from a day of brainstorming ways to predict rainfall from weather data. They needed to spare the expense of using paper not just for the environment, but due to their meagre salary. It was a process of guessing possible patterns, finding a model to apply such a theory, and computing its predictions. Cahethal had studied hard and could almost always recognise the names of different models that had proven successful in the past, but it was impossible to remember all their details, definitions and data requirements. So, every hour or so, they would need to look up references to models or mathematical theorems in the books.
With all their worries, it wasn’t really a relief to see the Sun go down, signalling the time to stop working and go home. | 97bee555f6dd43b18b0928b575808a73 | ['31e1973a927344f0b6f9f473e94fbec5'] | Sandbagging with Sai
In online go, you normally create an account and you suggest your rank, but you normally can’t start above amateur 1 dan unless, for example, you confirm you are professional. This is to make sure you can only rise in the dan rankings if you’ve earned it. This means you are also matched to play with people who are close to your rank. Of course, Hikaru starts at 20 kyu, the lowest rank, although he rises quickly. He creates an account named “Yuukai”.
“Man, I’m tired. That was a long game. I had to fight after I made that mistake and lost the upper left corner! But I made a double attack when I cut off his centre group and surrounded the whole of the lower side. That win takes me to 10 kyu!” Hikaru said, as he leaned back in his seat. He was thirsty, and wanted some cola, but that wasn’t allowed near the computers in this café, so he sipped some water.
“Yes, Hikaru, I’m proud of how fast you’ve improved in just a few months. We might need to reduce the handicap we play with down to 15.” Sai responded, clipping his fan against the table.
“Eeeh, I know I still have a long way to go. You don’t have to keep reminding me.” Hikaru grumbled before remembering. “But I managed to solve my first medium life and death problem from the Meijin’s book yesterday.”
“Go is a long path to tread for anyone. You are doing well. I myself am still learning every day from every game I play. Your modern go is really much more active and tactical than the go of Shusaku’s era where we emphasised good shape and style more. But it makes me wonder if I will ever achieve the Divine Move.” Sai mused to himself.
Hikaru wondered at how serious these top go players were about never limiting themselves, forever reaching higher. First there was Sai and then there was Akira, who despite being only 12, had dedicated himself to a life of go since he was a kid. And then there was Toya Koyo, the Meijin, who was also searching for the divine move. Whenever the topic of him came up, Sai would get all serious and his presence would grow into intimidating determination. It made Hikaru wonder how he could ever have thought of go as just a silly old man’s game. But perhaps he could still make it more fun.
“Hey Sai, I wonder how you would play against these opponents? You won’t find the divine move, but it might help you stop worrying. And I might learn from how you punish the sorts of mistakes they make.”
And so they submitted a game request in Hikaru’s account.
It turned out to be a six-stone handicap game with Yuukai taking white.
“Hmm. This could be fun ...” Sai pondered “as long as you and your opponent both focus and learn from this. Watch carefully. Don’t just copy my moves, but consider the reasoning behind them, comparing different possibilities. So on the first move, I can approach the formation from the outside where it is more valuable in open space, aiming to build a larger framework. Or I can invade deeply, risking my group immediately, but hoping that my greater strength will allow me to pull through, and then take advantage from separating my opponent’s stones and aiming at any weakness I can find on both sides. Yes, let’s see how they handle that. 3-6 Upper left kakari.”
And so their opponent got absolutely destroyed, the two of them had a good time, and Hikaru learnt some powerful combinations to attack corners. Hopefully, their online opponent wasn’t demoralized enough to quit go.
**Author's Note:**
> Some consider sandbagging as bullying, some as an effective teaching method. I don’t know what to think except that it can be fun. A little snippet, my first attempt at writing fanfic.
__
I actually wrote this several months ago.
It probably came from the thought of super strong Go AI. After all, the chess world has had decades to come to terms with the fact people can cheat with computers. However, it is a bit of a shock to the Go world to have to deal with it.
>
> I'm not sure I intend to add to this drabble at all, but we'll see. |
150da1ea18654398adbce7889cf062aa | ['320740c4436147728993060a8772c3d4'] |
1. Knocked Down
**Author's Note:**
> SSParapines gift for Callonielb on Tumblr.
Norman’s been knocked down a couple times in his life. Punched more times than he can count, for any number of reasons. He doesn’t punch back. He never punches back. Not unless the thing trying to hit him isn’t human. (And even then, rarely.) He’s been punched, yes.
But never like this.
“Norman.” Dipper’s voice is getting more and more desperate in his ear with each blow. “Norman, fight back!”
He’s not sure quite why these punches hurt so much worse but he’s between two, many three ideas.
The next crash of knuckles against his cheek sends him to the floor. The force is enough to send his teeth clattering into the inside of his cheek, opening up yet another cut in his mouth. The whole left side of his face is on fire. He spits some blood from his matching pair of split lips.
“Norman, fight back!”
The first idea is that the man throwing the punches isn’t holding back in the slightest. That his one and only objective in this moment is to beat Norman to a nice, squishy, medium pulp.
A violent kick to his side throws him onto his back. He feels something snap and hopes that nothing broke as a moan escapes him. White hot agony shoots up and down his side.
“Norman! Norman, please!” The voice echoes around the room frantically.
The second idea is that maybe possessed people are stronger somehow if the ghost controlling them is particularly angry. Oh, that’s actually not a bad idea. He could write about that for one of his parapsychology classes. “The Poltergeist Effect in Possession.” There’s even a little alliteration in there. Professor Scott’s always been a sucker for alliteration in essay titles.
That thought is cut off by another blow, a foot coming down on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
“Norman!” Dipper’s voice is near sobs now, begging. “Fight back, tie me up, do anything! Please!” The spirit of his boyfriend is floating eye-level with Norman’s head, flattening himself to the floor to beg right into his face. Those brown eyes - once-brown eyes - are currently glowing green like the rest of him, the ghostly aura so unfamiliar and so horrible on the face Norman loves so much.
A hand jerks him up and pulls him roughly to his feet, forcing him to stare into the pitch-black eye sockets of the thing possessing Dipper.
That’s his third idea. That all this hurts so much solely because all this pain is being inflicted by those hands that previously had only provided gentle touches, comfort, love. Dipper’s hands, which he had always loved so much, were now being used for pain.
“Please, please, don’t let him- me- whatever hurt you anymore. Norman, are you even listening to me? Norman, please!”
His whole body aches, but he stares forcefully into those shiny black eyes. That stupid smirk.
He spits more blood out of his mouth and attempts to speak for what must be the dozenth time. “You d-don’t have to… to do this.”
And for what must be the dozenth time, there’s no verbal response. But this time instead of another blow, the bloody-knuckled hand closes around his windpipe. That seems extreme. He could have just told Norman to shut up.
He can hear Dipper’s voice - Dipper’s spirit - screaming, now. Until he can’t hear it anymore. Until his hearing starts to go as blank as his vision as the little oxygen left in his lungs drains away.
Fades away.
Like everything else.
2. Picked Up
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Dipper had never heard a more beautiful cough in his life. He held Norman close as a pained moan escaped his bloodied lips.
Dipper knew from the second the angry spirit pushed him out of his body. He knew exactly what the thing wanted. Something about sharing a conscious mind for the .2 seconds it took for him to shove Dipper out gave him clarity in that area. The spirit - nameless as far as Dipper was concerned - wanted to hurt. So it delved right down into the depths of Dipper’s mind and pulled out his most terrifying memories, his worst nightmares, and used them to piece together how to bring about Dipper’s worst fear.
So he watched, completely powerless. It made him watch. Just watch as his fragile Norman was beaten within an inch of his life.
And then...
Norman wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled to one side.
Dipper screamed to nothingness as the thing in his body dropped his boyfriend to the floor like he was nothing.
And he continued to scream as he hurled himself towards his body, towards that complete asshole in his body. He wanted to hurt him back, he wanted to destroy him. He wanted the thing to hurt as bad as it’d hurt Norman.
(A tiny voice reminded him that revenge isn’t what Norman would want, is never what Norman would want, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care!)
All at once he fell to his knees in his own body, spitting ectoplasm from his mouth and wiping it away. It was too easy, no fight whatsoever.
And no satisfaction.
The only reason Dipper was back in his own body was because the spirit had decided it was done beating and wailing on Dipper’s everything.
He wanted to sob. Wanted to punch something. Wanted to fight back after what that fucker did to-
“Norman!” He scrambled up and sprinted to his boyfriend’s side, sinking to his knees as he delicately lifted Norman’s bruised head from the ground where he’d been tossed. “Norman? Norman, t-talk to me, tell me you’re okay…” | 088dc99a6f45436b8df32b1c748c3522 | ['320740c4436147728993060a8772c3d4'] | “Hey, it beats the alternative.” Norman raised an eyebrow, but he sat on the edge, ready to slide down into the elevator, still with Dipper’s hand in his. “Norman.” He turned back to Dipper, who looked like he was about to say something, but instead he shut his mouth before muttering “The timing on this might be tight…” and reluctantly letting his hand go.
Norman looked at him a moment more before dropping down the hatch. He heard the sound of switches clicking and the elevator hummed to life. Dipper slipped in, and the contraption started sliding down.
A moment before the door slid closed, a trowel - presumably the one Dipper used to dismantle the zombie - along with one of the mutilated zombie’s arms fell into the elevator with the two boys. They both yelped and jumped back, holding onto each other instinctively, but there wasn’t much a single forearm could do to hurt them.
Dipper kicked it to the corner. “Fucking zombie arm.”
They clung to each other as the elevator moved down for a long while. It came to a sudden stop, and they shared a look. What now?
Then it started moving again.
“Are we moving… sideways?” Norman asked. Dipper shrugged.
It was then that they realized not all the walls of the elevator were metal. Two, on either side, were made of glass, unrecognisable when it was put in front of a metal elevator shaft. But moving to the side, there was only darkness on each side.
Then it began to slow before coming to a stop right next to another glass panel - another elevator? - and a werewolf jumped right at them. Norman screamed.
The thing slammed into the glass, mouth frothing and jaws closing on nothing. Dipper stared in incomprehension. “What?”
The werewolf slid to the left as the elevator slid away, and some kind of alien-looking creature was revealed, clinging to the ceiling before jumping on the glass and sticking there. It disappeared from view as the elevator moved down and to the side again.
The boys separated enough to look at the opposing windows. Through Dipper’s window, he saw a man with unnaturally white skin, a long leather coat, and buzzsaws sticking out of his head. On Norman’s side, a little girl in a ballerina costume looked up to reveal that where her face should have been was a circle of razor-sharp teeth, rotating menacingly.
But regardless of the face, Norman realized he’d seen this picture before. The little girl in the dress was identical to the one in a music box. A music box he’d seen in the basement before… before all of this started…
It hit him like a bear trap to the head.
“We chose…”
“What?” Dipper asked as the elevator moved back down to see more and more creatures - a neverending line of terror. All these things were packed into metal crates like they were surrounded by the Costco of death.
“In the basement. All that stuff we were playing with. They made us choose.” He was shaking - from anger? Fear? Both? - and then said, voice clear as broken glass, “They made us choose how we die.”
Dipper’s cry surprised him, though he supposed it shouldn’t. The other boy slammed his fist into the glass over and over again. It didn’t crack, it didn’t bend, it didn’t move. The fist colliding with the substance was too juvenile to have any chance.
Norman tried to hold him back, but weak as he was, the best he could do was hold him, unable to actually stop him from hitting the immovable window. After one last punch, Dipper gave up and turned to wrap his arms around the last person he had left.
They held each other, eyes closed, and tried not to see the horrors that surrounded them. Tried not to remember that empty feeling. Tried to forget.
****
Preston watched the screen change, showing nine elevators at a time. The bastards had to be in one of them, but there were too goddamn many and they were running out of time. If the sun came up and the Fool was still alive…
“We saw them go down the access drop, they have to be in one of these,” he said to security over the comm. “Internal security should be able to- I don’t care if it’s against protocol! Are you high?”
Gideon meanwhile was monitoring the building. His screen featured halls, rooms, stairwells, some of which were being swept by security teams.
“It’s the boy twin. No! You can’t touch the medium, if the Fool outlives him this all goes to hell! Take the short one out first! What? ... Yes, if you have a confirmed kill you can kill the other one, too.”
Robbie was looking over Preston’s shoulder when he spotted them. “There!”
Preston froze the screen. “Thirty-six-oh-six…” he said. “Got it.”
“Bring them down,” said Gideon.
****
The elevator was moving purposefully downward. It was obvious that it had a destination this time. They held each other tighter.
Norman was closer to the door when it opened. A man who looked like a member of a SWAT team put one foot in the door and pointed a gun at the both of them. Norman turned around in Dipper’s arms. Dipper tried to pull him back, but Norman stood firmly between him and the gun. Damn. Why did Norman always make it so hard for Dipper to protect him?
“Out of the elevator!” The guard snapped. “Step out of the elevator.”
“Why are you trying to kill us?” Dipper asked from over Norman’s shoulder.
“Step out.” He looked directly at Norman. “Just you.”
“What? Why?” Norman asked.
“Do it!” The guard waved his weapon meaningfully. |
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