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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6789cf17ae8d4f4f9eb84d9e4eae1e92 | ['3208b87d41134059a820d7bac2e206c4'] | Suddenly the beast grabbed his wrists, pinning his hands to the cold pavement above his head, and started to rut against his spit-slicked crotch, its heavy cock poking into his stomach and rubbing against his own, considerably smaller member. The hunter arched his back with a tortured sigh, letting his eyes fall shut, only to find it actually only enhanced the spikes of pleasure and the feeling of a beastly body surrounding him and engulfing his entire being. Still, it was better than having to look up into those inhuman face and seeing nothing but scorn and mockery.
The hunter only opened his eyes when the monster’s wet muzzle touched and sniffled his ear, a feeling that made his skin crawl and tingle.
„Looks like someone wants more.“ The beast growled right into his ear, with a tone that made the hunter feel like he was merely a piece of meat, ready to be devoured.
_Yes_.
„No!“ He shook his head ferociously, voice too weak, too shaky for the word to mean anything. „No...“
„Lies,“ the beast grunted, „you can’t hide this from me. I can _smell_ how desperate you are to be fucked like an animal.“ Then it grinded against him so hard it almost hurt, all damp fur and slick flesh brushing over his groin and abdomen.
„Your body is begging for it, you slut,“ purred the beast as the hunter panted and squirmed, a long wail escaping through his clenched teeth when his hips twitched along with the beast’s movements. The hunter strained his muscles, feebly struggling against the beast’s grip, but he could just as easily attempt to move an entire house. He was coming undone so fast, his mind wrecked by the pleasure running through his entire body, the tension in his groin building up and getting stronger until he was sure he was going to cum any second.
The movement stopped so abruptly the hunter almost sobbed at the loss of friction, but then the beast’s hands moved down his body to wrap themselves around his hipbones, grabbing him roughly and pulling him closer. Clawed fingers clasped around his buttocks and spread them apart, leaving a few red marks in the creamy white skin. Something huge and slick poked at his entrance, and the hunter yelped when he felt the thing pushing and sliding between his cheeks. He found himself trembling, partly in fear, partly in anticipation.
A weak whimper left his lips as the beast’s shaft started to slowly fill him. It was too big for him. Everything about the beast was way too big. And it hurt, so much it brought tears to his eyes, it was splitting him apart and made him wail and writhe in pain. He knew he was too tense, his muscles almost cramping, but he could hardly control it.
„Damn it, human, loosen up a bit.“ The beast rumbled, annoyed at the lack of progress.
Out of despair, the hunter reached for his cock and pumped it a few times, hoping the pleasure would distract him from the searing pain. It seemed to help a bit. The pain slowly faded into a dull throbbing, so he continued to pleasure himself, any sense of pride and dignity abandoned a long time ago. After a while he could feel the beast’s cock finally fully sink into him, making him feel so full and stretched it stole his breath away.
The beast above him purred and growled, finally able to move its hips with more ease. It still hurt, but now it was a pain that made him, somehow, ache for more. It grew more acute with each shallow thrust the beast delivered, its member hitting something deep inside him in in such a way he couldn’t help himself but moan and push his hips further down, searching for the right angle just to have that spot brushed again. Of course the beast could see and feel what he was doing, which earned him another taunting snarl.
„That’s right, big, strong hunter. Take it like the filthy bitch you are.“
Those words growled into his ear were the only warning he got before the beast pulled out of him almost entirely, only to push its entire length back into him in one smooth motion, repeating the action immediately after sheathing itself in the tight cavern, not letting its victim to catch a breath. An endless flood of cries and moans filled the air and mingled with the subtle, wet smacking of flesh and bodily fluids.
The monster huffed into his face, grumbling something the hunter couldn’t comprehend, his mind too occupied and overwhelmed by the mix of agony and pleasure. He didn’t even bother to restrain the wanton moans that kept spilling from his lips; he didn’t even stop his own hand from stroking his own cock.
„I bet nobody has ever gave you a good fucking before. Hmpf, is my little hunter bitch a virgin?“
The beast didn’t seem to expect any response from the hunter, not that he would be able to give any in his current state. His throat was raw and voice hoarse as those powerful thrusts constantly punched the breath out of his lungs, and the last bits of his consciousness were focused on staying relaxed, concentrated on the pleasure rather than anything else.
The hands around his hips gripped him harder, and the pounding grew more violent and erratic. The beast wasn’t even moving its hips at this point as it dragged the hunter’s slender frame back and forth on its huge stiff member, using him for its own pleasure like a living meat bag.
At one point, it all became too much. | 826253dcac864e009b96232f4f26e9bf | ['3208b87d41134059a820d7bac2e206c4'] | „What in the heavens do you think you are doing?!“ Shouting, he prepared his fist for another strike. It never connected. Smough caught his wrist in his huge hand and slammed it to the ground above Ornstein‘s head.
„Look at you.“ He could feel Smough’s foul breath even through his lion shaped helmet. „Not a single scar on you. You don’t even look like a real warrior underneath that famous armor of yours“. A shiver ran through Ornstein’s spine when the brute’s rough hand roamed almost gently over his torso, brushing over erect nipples. A few drops of warm blood fell on his milky skin, creating a stark contrast.
„Let me go!“ Roared the captain, angered beyond himself. „How dare you speak to me like that?!“
No reply came from the bigger man, and before Ornstein could make a move to stop him, his faulds quickly met the same fate as his once majestic chest armor. A moments later, he felt his undergarments tear like a paper under Smough’s dreadfully strong hands.
„Hmm. Not much of a man down here either“. Smough laughed, a mocking grin spreading on his face. „Gwyn’s finest, eh?“
Ornstein yelled out in rage and frustration, violently kicking out with his legs. One of his knees connected with Smough’s groin, which made the brute hunch over in agony, screaming bloody murder. Ornstein snarled with satisfaction, though his feeling of victory was short lived. Without warning, an unbelievable pain blossomed in his crotch, forcing a shrill scream out of his lungs. One of Smough’s hands gripped and squeezed his balls, pulling hard and threatening to crush the delicate organ.
Howling in anguish, Ornstein‘s hands flew towards his nether regions to clutch at Smough’s fingers in a desperate attempt to lessen the pain. The bigger man only laughed, giving his sac a few more harsh tugs just to get a another fit of pained screams and whimpers out of his victim.
„What’s the matter, _captain_?“ Spitting out the word like it was poison, Smough strengthened his grip, savoring the view of his rival writhing beneath him. „Can’t take a little pain?“ Smough chuckled under his breath, tentatively releasing the other man from his deadly grip to adjust his position on top of him while Ornstein slowly recovered from the ordeal. Straddling the knight’s hips and trapping his legs under his weight, Smough began to unfasten the ties on his trousers.
„That’s too bad. It’s not going to get much better for you“.
Ornstein didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening around him, his mind only registering the terrible ache in his groin, even though the crushing pressure was already gone. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from making any more of those shameful sounds, partially from the feeling of relief that washed over him when the pain finally dissipated.
Meanwhile, Smough produced a small jar from one of his pockets. Their armory was well stocked with oil for weapons and other various tools. How convenient that it occurred to him to tuck away one of the jars for a special occasion. How convenient indeed. And speaking of special occasion...
„You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous today.“
Smough began to spread a large amount of oil on his erect member. Ornstein watched the movement with gruesome fascination, as if his brain refused to comprehend the implication of what was about to happen.
„And also that I don’t want to get my dick scraped when I’m fucking you senseless.“
Smough shifted his weight to one side, hoisting Ornstein’s right leg from under himself and hooking it over his shoulder. Then, grabbing a hold of Ornstein’s forearm, he turned the smaller man on his side, spreading his legs even further.
„You can’t be serious... you hideous bastard... Stop this instant!“ Ornstein shouted and squirmed furiously, trying to yank his leg from Smough’s bruising grip and kick him in the face. Smough only gave him an amused look and licked his lips.
„Have I ever told you that I like it when they struggle?“
Ornstein gasped in discomfort when a thick, oiled finger slowly entered him. He tried to crawl away. His fingers desperately scraped at the marble floor, leaving scratch marks on the smooth surface, but the brute had him effectively restrained.
„You are squeezing me so beautifully. I can’t wait to shove the real thing into you.“ With that, Smough removed his finger, positioning the tip of his huge dripping cock at Ornstein’s entrance. The other warrior convulsed and arched his back, straining all muscles in his body in one last attempt to escape his fate.
„Wait... you can’t... It’s too big.. I-I will break.“ By the gods, he was actually scared. A real, genuine fear. He faced dragons big as a mountain, breathing fire that could melt rocks and evaporate entire rivers. But never in his life has he felt so helpless.
„My dear captain,“ said Smough, this time not even smiling. „Don’t you get it? That’s the point.“
Not wasting any more time, Smough slowly pushed into him.
Ornstein screamed. Gods, it hurt! He already felt stretched to his limit, even though Smough wasn’t buried even half way into him. Not paying attention to Ornstein’s loud protests, the brute forced his way further into him until his dick was entirely sheathed in the clenching heat. Smough moaned in a deep tone. The tight ring of muscle was strangling the base of member in the most delightful way. |
0166fe95c15444ceabc154249f3cd062 | ['321431f0a4c6404d85ba754addcddd9c'] | _Harry unconsciously rubbed his chest where, Sirius guessed, the Killing Curse had struck him. From the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed a deep wound that ran the down his forearm, his pale skin covered in dried blood._
" _You're hurt." Nodding in the direction of his injury._
" _Yeah," Harry responded absently, peering down at his bleeding forearm without concern. "Cutting curse. Death Eater got lucky. I never got the hang of healing spells."_
_Sirius frowned slightly and pulled the scarf that he had wrapped around his wrist before he died, worn and faded over the years. Distantly, he marvelled that it had remained untouched all these years since he fell through the Veil. Preserved by death. Not unlike himself._
_"I did but I think I might pass out if I even tried the simplest of spells." He spoke, tying the material over the wound on Harry's arm, stemming the flow of blood. "That should do until you get to a healer."_
" _Thanks." Harry said, flashing Sirius a gentle smile. "It's good to have you back."_
_Sirius felt heat radiating through his chest at those simple words. To calm the racing of his heart, Sirius ruffled Harry's hair in an attempt at light-heartedness. Harry pushed him away playfully, laughing softly yet genuinely for the first time. Sirius filed the sound away in his memory. Just in case._
The days leading up to the enquiry and the enquiry itself were dreamlike to Sirius' recollection – the clearest memory he had was of emerald eyes and crying. Mostly from Molly for his miraculous return from the grave and a short burst of anger regarding her son and the unfairness of it all. But Harry it seemed was permanently silent or at least to Sirius' foggy memory. All he could recall was his eyes, his comforting presence and a growing hunger that could not be sated.
Before long he was free and the only ounce of happiness he could remember was the strength of Harry's arms surrounding him and Sirius knew something had changed.
Guilt was no foreign emotion to him after the events of that fateful Halloween night but what worried him more was the lengths he was prepared to go to satisfy his need, and the shame that should have come but did not. In the end, he stopped responding to letters, denied entry to his house with pitiful excuses until Harry no longer tried to be around him. Yet he kept, the polyjuice potion he had brewed in pocket at all times for over a month until his desire became too strong.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it-"
"Stop." Sirius interrupted coldly, his mind snapping to the present as he began to thrust into him powerfully, his jaw clenched as spikes of pleasure shot through his body. "Don't talk."
His head lowered to rest against Harry's shoulder as he slammed his length deep inside, moving to the hilt in just a few quick, measured strokes. His breath became slow and laboured as the feel of Harry's ass griping his cock took him to the edge.
Sirius grabbed Harry's shirt within his fists, lifting him from the table slightly with every thrust of his hips. Harry's breath stuttered, held and stuttered again before he began to pant heavily against his hear. He could feel the legs pressed against him tremble as Sirius put more pressure on them, folding them against the chest; Harry's fingers threading into his long hair, holding him fast.
Amidst his lust-driven fever, Sirius realized he had never felt anything so good and he knew he never would. Sweat began to pool on his lower back as his thrusts increased, bringing them both closer to completion.
A creak in the floorboard snapped them to attention.
Harry was standing in the doorway, a look of horror on his face.
* * *
No one said a word. Not even a breath could be heard in the shocked silence. Sirius was convinced if one's heart could freeze within the chest, his did in that instant. Harry looked appalled. The man beneath him looked like a boy caught in wrong-doing and Sirius himself was sure he resembled a ghost.
' _Close enough._ ' Harry's voice echoed in his head but still no one spoke aloud. Sirius wanted to say something to fill the silence that had descended so badly he could feel it catching in his throat, begging for release; some justification for his actions. But what could he say? And so, he remained silent out of fear he would voice the feelings even he hadn't come to fully comprehend yet.
An eternity.
He was certain that was the length of time he had stared into the shocked eyes when the cold descended again: that outer cold he felt in the winter months that chilled his skin and turned his breath to puffs of white air, as the solid warmth beneath his body began to twist and shift and Sirius felt the unmistakable transformation as the polyjuice potion wore off. He closed his eyes against the spark of realization that came to Harry's. The hand still buried within the clothing tightened until pain built in his knuckles. Distantly, Sirius acknowledged the irony of Harry's timing. A few moments later and his eyes would not be filled with such betrayal.
"Should I leave?" Came the unsure voice from beneath him. Sirius could have laughed at the entire situation if it wasn't so dire. In the end, he only nodded in response, straightening his body so he slipped from the boy's warmth, surprised to find himself still hard. Harry turned his head at the action, a look of disgust marring his handsome features. Beyond that, neither Sirius nor Harry paid the boy any further notice as he straightened his clothes and left the room without further complaint. | 8f7a2e3acc7c43e1b0676f5e83dc218e | ['321431f0a4c6404d85ba754addcddd9c'] | "You love very strongly." Harry said simply, blushing as if the words embarrassed him to voice even as he spoke them.
"Yes." Severus croaked, his glance dropping to Harry's lips. "I have little experience of it, when I have it, I treasure it."
The thought of kissing him had no sooner crossed Severus' mind than Harry jumped up from the sofa as if he had been burned.
"Oh fuck!" Harry said distractedly, turning on the spot in one way to another as if he couldn't decide on which direction to take. Severus smirked in amusement, feeling equal amounts of relief and disappointment that the moment that had consumed them had come to an abrupt end.
"Language, Mr Potter." Severus said lightly and Harry laughed.
"I was supposed to meet Ginny...half and hour ago." He added, pulling out a battered looking pocket watch. Severus felt a spark of jealousy radiate through him at the thought of the girl. Severus was a possessive man, it was true. "She's going to kill me. I should go."
And yet even as he spoke, he seemed as reluctant to leave Severus as Severus was to let him go.
"I hope I see you again." Harry said after a moment of silence, turning to look at the door he had entered from. Glancing back at Severus, he smiled warmly, a hint of teasing in the upturn of his mouth. "You're easier to talk to when you're not deducting points."
Severus looked down at his clasped hands to hide his amusement. With a whispered "goodbye" the other man turned and crossed the room in purposeful strides. It wasn't until the door closed behind him with a resounding _thump_ that Severus jumped to his feet, Harry's words swimming through his head as clear as if someone were screaming them.
_Why should that mean it isn't real? Why can't it be real?_
Crossing the room in great strides, Severus turned the knob of the bathroom door and stormed in, bouncing the door off the wall hard enough to chip the paint and knock over the many bottles of shower gel and shampoo that had littered the edge of the ancient bathtub. And there he was, glaring at him from above the wash basin., his eyes cold, his thin lips curled over yellow, crooked teeth and his limp greasy hair falling around his sunken face. The reflection of himself as others saw him but to Severus it was a perfect stranger. This was the true mask he bore to the world, to keep them from seeing what lay beneath. Severus gave a rueful laugh. _Worked like a charm_ , he thought with self-loathing. So few had tried to see beyond his ghastly appearance and unapproachable personality and those who dared had died by his actions, his thirst for power, his greed. Lily, Albus... _Harry_. But Harry had achieved the impossible once more and survived; lived to stand in his private rooms and offer Severus the hand of friendship as shy and tentative as it was.
He stood in front of his mirror, his hands grasping the rim of the basin until his hands became stone white, not sure what to do next. For once he had no master leading his hand, no grand scheme to follow. He was neither death eater or spy but just a man in control of his own destiny with nothing or no one to call his own. A deep longing ached inside his chest as he recalled the dream-life he had so cruelly been ripped from: a happiness he had never known before and a loneliness that had yet to fade since.
" _Listen to me, Severus."_ Harry spoke to him from mind. _"I don't a shit what the world thinks of me. They can reject me, they can hate me. I don't care as long as you love me. You're in my blood, Severus. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, old man and fuck me."_
A silent moan escaped between his lips as another memory assaulted him and he wanted to scream against the unfairness of it all. He had been loved completely by the Harry of his dreams yet the Harry of his reality would never know of the connection they had shared. Perhaps it were best that he forgot the strange event entirely and treat Harry no differently than any other student until the year ended and they would have no reason to see each other again. Severus shuddered when he thought it, the way he would sometimes shudder after swallowing a particularly strong mouthful of firewhiskey. But the shudder past and he stared resolutely into his reflection. He was no simple-minded fool who would simper at how unfair his life had been and let this opportunity pass him by. No Dark Lord reigned over him any more. He was free to live how he wanted and as he closed his eyes the only thought he had was of _him_. And Severus was nothing if not determined.
_First things first,_ Severus thought as he pulled his wand from his sleeve, _time to leave the mask behind_. He lifted his wand to his face but paused as the magnitude of what he was hoping to achieve finally hit him and he lowered his wand once more. The thought of tricking Harry, manipulating him into accepting him crossed his mind briefly but Severus rejected it as soon as he thought it. He wanted Harry's love not his hate. No, there was only one way to do it Severus thought as he lift his wand again to hover in front of his nose. No matter how long it took, he had to make Harry Potter fall in love with him. Any simpering little red heads who fancied themselves in love were nothing more than an inconvenience. He would make sure of it. |
fd5f39aae7654f90b7e21c4099001232 | ['324eb81cb8ea45a6bb28a5e0f680859b'] | The hand at his waist delved under his tunic, pulling it up and running along the muscles of his back. Eskel let his shirt be drawn over his head and Geralt kissed him again. Walking Eskel slowly backwards until the backs of his knees bumped into the bed, forcing him to sit. “Watch me?” The question in Geralt’s voice was palpable and Eskel nodded in answer.
Eyes never straying Eskel watched as Geralt backed up and made a show of slowly undressing himself. When his tunic was off Geralt teased his own nipples, pinching and pulling at them, and Eskel could distinctly hear Geralt’s breath pick up speed as he worked himself up further. Boots were kicked to the corner and Geralt’s hand slowly slid over the bulge in the front of his leathers. The sound he made as he rubbed himself through his leathers was thin and desperate, sending a jolt of desire straight to Eskel’s cock. Rolling his hips into his own hand for several seconds Geralt stared Eskel down before taking his time undoing the laces of his leathers, shimmying them down his hips to reveal, soft yellow cotton braies the color of faded sunflowers.
Light on his feet Geralt strutted back over to Eskel, pausing only to set oil on the night stand for later. Putting one hand on each of Eskel’s knees Geralt pushed Eskel’s legs wide open and knelt in between them on the floor. Cupping the front of Eskel’s leathers like he had his own Geralt rubbed the palm of his hand over the hardness there. Dry lips brushed over Eskel’s flat and brown nipple, teasing it to attention before a hot tongue rasped over it. Teeth nipped at him and a shocked gasp dragged its way into Eskel’s lungs, his hand immediately clutching at the back of Geralt’s head.
“Sweet Melitele,” fingers above and below Geralt’s ponytail, Eskel worried his thumb softly in Geralt’s hair. “Tha’s good.”
Geralt moved his mouth to Eskel’s other nipple and he moaned open mouthed before he caught himself, slamming his mouth shut. Sucking his lips into his own mouth and pursing them, Eskel bit them together between his teeth to stay quiet while Geralt worked his nipple over. Hot mouth, tongue and teeth, teasing, sucking, and pulling at his body. Then a hand was dipping inside his leathers holding him tight through his braies, and his chest might have rumbled at the touch. Geralt had distracted him so much with his mouth Eskel hadn’t noticed him working open the laces of his leathers.
An easy hand on his bare chest pushed him backwards and Eskel let himself fall. No need to fight this. Geralt’s hands worked to pull down his leathers, taking his braies with them. Soon Eskel was laying back on the bed naked, stiff cock standing proudly up in the air, feet still planted on the floor with his leathers, braies and boots pooled at them while Geralt worked to remove it all.
It wasn’t long before Geralt had succeeded and was kissing his way back up between Eskel’s thighs, nuzzling his face into the crook between Eskel’s leg and balls. Licking and sucking softly at the skin there, making Eskel draw his knee up on the bed to offer Geralt better access because it felt too good not to. Resting a hand on the crown of Geralt’s head Eskel closed his eyes and focused only on the feeling of Geralt’s mouth, moist and hot against his skin. It worked at the join of his hip and groin, traveled up to his cock, softly sucking at the vein on the underside, all the way up to the tip. Heat engulfed the head of his cock briefly before moving down again. It engulfed first one ball, tenderly drawing it inside the inferno of Geralt’s mouth, rolling it over his tongue. The heat tugged gently at it when Geralt swallowed around him, trying to draw his ball deeper. Then the coolness tingled the skin there when Geralt’s mouth left to welcome his other ball inside, licking and sucking at it as well.
“Turn over and lay down in the middle of the bed for me please?” Geralt’s smooth voice cut through Eskel’s pleasurable haze. Complying was a bit more work than Eskel was used to, his limb felt heavy from the amazing treatment Geralt had just given him. Slowly though, Eskel rolled and crawled up the bed, collapsing there with his head turned to the side and resting on his arms.
Eskel could feel the soft cotton of Geralt’s braies on his ass, the hardness pressing against him through it and Eskel _ wanted it _ so bad his groin ached with the desire. Resisting the urge to lift his hips and push his ass up into Geralt’s cock took all of the concentration Eskel could muster. He would not push Geralt on this. Geralt’s legs were squirming their way in between his, and Eskel opened them to make room for Geralt’s hips to settle between his spread thighs. Stifling a rough moan against his own arm as Geralt’s cloth covered cock slid down along the crack of his ass while he situated himself.
Sucking at his own skin on his forearm Eskel tried to slow his breathing, to control himself. Geralt was placing soft kisses down the ridges of muscle that lined both sides of his spine and Eskel let himself sink into it. This was something Geralt could do for him. Leaving his mouth open, warm breath on wet skin, Eskel focused on Geralt’s mouth again. Slowly it trailed down his back, Geralt’s hands making dents in the bed on either side of Eskel, holding himself up so his weight only rested over Eskel’s ass and the bed between his legs. | 25f489dc6fd248cea98259f32a235cb9 | ['324eb81cb8ea45a6bb28a5e0f680859b'] | There was no need to knock on Geralt’s door. If he was there he had heard Eskel coming. The door to Geralt’s room pushed open easily on well-oiled hinges, and Eskel smiled to see him sitting on his bed in meditation wearing nothing but the new gray cotton braies Eskel had given him. Eskel swished the door closed behind himself and dropped the wooden latch bar into its catch. Turning back to Geralt still smiling Eskel saw his lids flutter as he pulled out of his meditation. Geralt’s golden eyes flashed unreadable for a moment, a small storm behind them.
“Hey,” Eskel approached the bed and got up on it walking towards Geralt on his knees. He cupped Geralt’s chin and kissed his mouth. Easy, gentle, and slow.
“Hey,” Geralt breathed back at him, eyes sliding closed to avoid Eskel’s searching gaze.
“What’s wrong?” There was no heat in Eskel’s question, his confidence hadn’t wavered, Geralt was still his and he knew it. He wasn’t more certain of anything else in his long strange life.
“I-” Geralt paused, the words not coming, and Eskel gave him another slow easy kiss, “No one has ever given me a gift like this before.”
Eskel grinned against Geralt’s mouth, “Yeah, well you deserve it. You make me feel special.” Geralt tensed almost imperceptibly against Eskel.
“I don’t,” Geralt opened his eyes back up to look at Eskel.
“You do,” Eskel responded firmly. He wasn’t going to argue about this.
“Eskel…” cat eyes shattering with emotion and overly shiny, Geralt started to admit his sins, “You don’t understand, when I am on The Path I-”
“I do understand.”
“I’m sorry,” Geralt stated in defeat looking down.
“You don’t need to apologize for being yourself. I understand what you need, maybe better than you do,” Eskel sank his fingers into Geralt’s hair at the base of his skull, tipping his head back and gently forcing Geralt to maintain eye contact while he explained his side of things. “It doesn’t mean I want to hear the details, and it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve me or my gift. All I want is to know, to hear, that I am special to you, that I give you that connection you crave.” Eskel searched Geralt’s face, watching him swallow, watching the breath shudder out of him.
“No one could give me what you do,” Geralt whispered.
“Then I am not concerned with what you do on The Path to meet your needs. You’re all I need. Just as you are,” Eskel kissed Geralt’s lips, then his jaw, tracing his mouth down to the hallow of his neck and mouthing there. Loosening his hold on Geralt’s hair Eskel found his mouth being devoured by Geralt again, much like he had in the stable. When Geralt broke the kiss two words were whispered near silent against his lips:
“Thank you.”
Eskel ran his hands down from Geralt’s face along his sides to grip his ass. It was perfectly firm in his hands, never too little or too much. Kneading it through the braies that he had gifted Geralt, Eskel reveled in the way the cotton felt butter-smooth under his palms. Linen might last longer, but with a high enough quality cotton -meaning enough gold- it could not compare in terms of softness. Eskel wondered how it felt snuggled up against Geralt’s cock and balls.
Eskel allowed his gray shirt to be stripped away by Geralt’s roving hands. Unbuckling his own belt and sliding it out of the loops on his pants so the metal buckle wouldn’t irritate Geralt’s skin, he tossed it on the floor. Geralt fell back effortlessly on the bed when Eskel placed his hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. Hungry eyes drank in Eskel as he abandoned his pants and braies, leaving only clean bare skin.
Lifting his hips Geralt moved to remove his own braies as well but Eskel stopped him, “Leave them on.” Eskel laid down beside Geralt and began this fall’s exploration of his new scars. Tracing his fingers over every well known dip and swell, worming his arm under Geralt’s head to offer him a place to rest it.
“Bruxa,” Geralt told Eskel when his fingers bumped over three fresh raised scars on his left pectoral, parallel lines evenly spaced.
“Such bitchy bats,” Eskel commiserated, bending over to place a kiss on the new scars, “At least it didn’t bite you.”
“Mhm,” Geralt agreed rubbing his thumb lightly over Eskel’s own bruxa bite mark. Years later it still looked like he had enjoyed a rough night with a whore.
Letting his tender touches continue, Eskel reaffirmed through his hands to Geralt that what he had said was true, that this was all he wanted from Geralt. Amazing sex aside, Geralt was so much more than that to him. Geralt was home. Taking as much as he gave Eskel let Geralt put his hands anywhere he wanted, in his hair, over his ass, coming to rest lightly at the front of his neck. It was comforting to feel Geralt needing him and Eskel soaked it up like water in a parched desert.
Burrowed into each other as far as they could get, Eskel and Geralt dozed off in the early hours of the evening.
~~~~~
Vesemir stood outside Eskel’s door in the morning, but Eskel wasn’t there, he knew. No heart beat behind that door. Pushing it open with a scrape Vesemir peered into the empty room beyond before closing it. Turning to walk away he strode past Geralt’s door. Pausing he leaned his head toward it, two heartbeats behind that door. Slow and steady in the grasp of sleep. Vesemir sighed to himself and kept on walking.
~~~~~ |
646f610a28fe4c3bbe8ecb2eaf0d69ff | ['3276ffc61ad443c5be28d652405f5a07'] | "Right. Well, at the moment I don't care if she's a 'toota jay,' I care that you do as I say." Her tone was firm, and the Hibernians took a step back and assumed formal stances. "Well? Go!"
As quickly as they might, the two women picked up the slave's seemingly lifeless body and began to ferry her down the ladder to the ground below. Clerica watched them go for a time, the delicacy with which Dana was handled a curious shift (though not unwarranted) from the earlier hints of animosity. Truth be told, she could no more fault the Hibernians for resting on first impressions than she could their decision to reconsider. Turning again to the field as Bri touched down on the ground, she gazed at the steaming corpse of the Beast of Alclud, the spear still engorged in its chest up to half of its length. It had been a throw of such strength from a woman fighting for consciousness - indeed, Clerica was certain that even she, a trained soldier of the Roman Empire, could not hope to imitate the strike, even in a healthy state.
The initial shock and awe of the encounter, however, gave way to a host of new questions, curiosities, and, potential problems. Serious problems.
What was beyond any doubt was that Dana possessed a skill set that was far more complicated, and valuable, even, than a slave ought to. The viciousness and precision of her volley was gladiatorial, while her speech, even that which Clerica could not understand, was capable of such range that she surely spoke publicly, and often, in a previous life. The Hibernians' indication that she was related to the king of Alclud only further entrenched Clerica's realization that the woman she called 'slave' had not always been called such, and had perhaps only known that name quite recently.
A part of her was curious.
Another was cautious.
Just _how_ recent was Dana's fall from king's kin to the servile class? Who had sold her to Rome, and why? Where were her true loyalties now, having been apparently betrayed by her own people and enslaved by another? Clerica could think of no reason why the Briton would have any love for Rome (and certainly, her ambivalence had been clearly communicated), but that did not necessarily mean that she opposed Rome in every sense. Was there some part of her that sought the destruction of certain individuals, a goal that was joined with the Roman cause in the north?
A more troubling thought was that perhaps Dana was not truly a slave at all. Perhaps Dana was a spy of sorts, easily overlooked in her role as a woman who was never meant to be seen, nor heard, but only meant to _do_. If that was the case, she had failed in rather spectacular fashion on that front, even before this display. Clerica had never been cursed with a slave so brashly entitled despite a nagging lack of competence. So no, perhaps not a spy. Or at least, not a particularly good one.
She was startled out of her thoughts by gentle shove to her shoulder as Bellamy settled in beside her, leaning against the ledge.
"So what was that about?" he asked.
"Honestly?" She shrugged as she caught his eye. "I have no fucking idea."
Bellamy nodded curtly. "Good."
"Yeah," she muttered, as the sun crept over the fells, "perfect."
" _Tribunus_?"
They both swiveled toward the new voice to find Coithia standing with them on the platform, her feet bare, still clad in her thin shift and, Clerica was displeased to note, little else. The train of pale, diaphanous fabric was quickly soaking up the blood on the floor. She seemed either not to notice, or not to mind.
"We need to talk," the empress said, all charm replaced by a steely seriousness that very much befitted her hard-won title, regardless of her current garb. "We need to talk, _now_."
***
"Claustrus will try to ensure that this colours our negotiations with the Coalition," Coithia said once Clerica had explained what had happened, leaving out the finer details of Dana's supposed heritage. She could not elaborate on that without Lyra and Bri present, any way. "You must not let him."
Before Clerica could respond, Bellamy - who had followed them into the _praetorium_ , much to the empress's ire - interrupted.
"Why not?" he asked. "Why shouldn't we? One of the kings supposedly subject to Lexa Britorexa just tried to kill the _Dux Britanniarum_. That _should_ colour negotiations."
" _Rigantona_ requested to treat with us, and it is with Rigantona that we will come to terms, not with this Drust of Al Clud," Coithia stressed, eyes narrowed. She turned to address Clerica, but the harshness of her tone suggested Bellamy was also her intended audience. "This was not the act of a powerful man. Powerful men lead their people valiantly into battle, as Rigantona does. This is why Rigantona was elected _rixa_ \- because she is powerful and wise.
"Drust, on the other hand, arrived at our door with a handful of men from a kingdom that is not even his own. That _should_ tell you something about the security of his position in Alt Clud, or at the very least, the lack of support for what he intended to accomplish this morning. This is the behaviour of a king not long for his throne, and you should view it as such."
Bellamy was not willing to drop the subject. "By that logic, what he did was desperate, and I'm not disputing that. But he should be punished for it. Clerica - and Rome - cannot be seen to be weak by accepting such assaults against them. Trying to accommodate the Britons' desire for peace is already a step too far in that direction; we shouldn't give them any further reason to believe we are vulnerable - "
Clerica interrupted. "Bellamy, that's enough -" | 8c44967c196d43bf99e45b1a3e70e578 | ['3276ffc61ad443c5be28d652405f5a07'] | "I need you to act as envoys to the _rixa_ ," she explained, without hesitation. "What has happened here this morning," she glanced at Clerica, "is an act of war, during a time when we are meant to be settling peace. I would ask that you send Rigantona my regards and demand that she meet with the _Dux Britanniarum_ on the eastern mound, there - " she indicated, "- to establish terms."
Clerica took a step towards the empress, her voice insistent. " _Augusta_ , I really must protest. This is not my place. I am newly arrived here, and I have yet to even be afforded the title of _dux_. More to the point, it is the Emperor who is here to set terms, not me, _dux_ or no."
" _Tribunus_ , you may not yet be _dux_ , but it is fully decided that you will be," Coithia replied. "It is of absolute importance to me, and to the Emperor, that Rigantona sees you in this role with our complete confidence. It is you who will be acting in our place in the north once we have returned to the continent, and she - and indeed, all of her fellows - must become used to dealing with you on our behalf, as should you."
This was not at all something that Clerica was comfortable with, and Coithia noted that, for she offered her a small, private smile, no more than a quirk of her lips to the side turned away from the others. She held Clerica's gaze for no more than a moment before directing her attention to Marius, who had cleared his throat.
" _Augusta_ , it is neither my place to question your judgement in this matter, but forgive me my asking: Why is the Emperor not relaying this desire to Morta himself? And Claustrus, surely he would think his own presence to be pivotal as well?"
Coithia cocked an eyebrow sardonically. "I don't doubt that Claustrus _would_ think his presence pivotal, and nor would I disagree with him. But where peace is what we aim to achieve with these terms, the Emperor and I have agreed that Claustrus would prove impactful in ways contrary to our cause, while Clerica is both the correct officer for this role, and the correct mind." Coithia took a breath and continued gravely. "As far as the Emperor, he has taken quite ill, as you are all familiar. We decided in the night that it would not be wise for him, in his weakened state, to act as our negotiator in this matter, for fear of presenting a face that would seem… impermanent."
"Understood." Marius nodded curtly. "And I agree. Morta will make a worthy representative for peace. Not the one Rigantona was expecting perhaps, but one that I anticipate she will come to respect."
"Good, and Lindon? Will you do this thing for me, my friend?" Coithia turned her gaze on the _dryw_ , more serious than was her habit in charm, but no less successful for the fact.
Lindon's mouth twitched at that, the corners turning up ever so slightly. "Of course."
"Gratitude," Coithia murmured, and she seemed genuinely sincere - and somehow relieved.
Clerica wondered at that, and looked to the _dryw_ curiously. Extraordinarily tall, but exceedingly gentle as far as she could tell, Lindon should have been an imposing figure. Surely, to any who didn't know his nature, that was exactly how he came across. And yet Coithia spoke to him as though this man had much to fear from this mission, more so than Marius even, who was smaller in build and a Roman, besides. Glance flickering to Octavia, she noted that the Sarmatian's face had also adopted a look of concern.
Clerica determined to better understand the mysterious man when he returned. Or, _if_ he returned, judging by the excessive danger he was about to be placed in.
Coithia clapped her hands. "Very well! Lindon, Marius, I would have you make haste on this task, that we get negotiations quickly underway. Octavia, ride out with the _speculatores_ and have them sweep the perimeter of the _castra_ , though be wary. If you stumble upon intruders, you are not to kill them unless absolutely necessary; they will be taken as prisoners if this can be managed."
With that, Octavia nodded and exited the tent with Lindon and Marius. Coithia turned to Bellamy. " _Praefectus_ , we have suffered an attack on this _castrum_ this morning, and while I do not expect others to be forthcoming, it would be foolish not to prepare for such an event." Bellamy looked relieved, the empress apparently addressing at least one of his overriding concerns. "Double the watch at every gate, and communicate to your fellows in the other _castra_ that they are to do the same. And again, prisoners are to be taken if at all possible."
"Yes, _Augusta_." Bellamy nodded, his mood notably lighter, and quickly followed the others from the tent.
As he left, Coithia made her way over to Clerica, slipping a hand into her own, and pulling her close. "Now, my love," she murmured, kissing her lightly on the lips, "would you care to tell me what the fuck is _actually_ going on?" |
aecc52a45e9c4591aebb7fcc3bb8dc2e | ['32817e2ff9fc49f18aae307e84c1d807'] | If she was being honest with herself, she was a little hurt that Kara hadn’t yet told her the truth about her identity. But she wanted to let Kara come clean on her own terms, not because Cat had bullied or threatened her into it. She realized that she went about it the wrong way the first time, and wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The reason Cat promotes Kara.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry this chapter is short. Sticking mainly to canon here but next chapter we'll see something new~
The next day, Kara came into the office unusually down. Cat couldn’t understand. The day before she’d saved the city, and ultimately, the world. She should be relieved, and happy to be alive, shouldn’t she? She supposed Kara was exhausted after the last few days, but she tried to give her some perspective on what they’d been through together. She called her into her office to ask her to get her some Moon Juice that Gwyneth had been raving about. The corners of Cat’s mouth turned up slightly when Kara mentioned that Cat hated Chinese herbs, and Gwyneth. Kara knew her so well. Cat set her pen back down and looked up at Kara.
“We have been through hell in the last few days. We survived. Lesson: don’t ever take life for granted. Always take good care of yourself. Reject the latte and drink the green juice. Carpe diem.” Cat told Kara, as she picked her pen back up and continued to work.
About to leave her office, Kara turned around and addressed her. “Miss Grant, I just want you to know that working for you is a true honor. You are my role model and you lead this city with just strength and grace and underneath that prickly exterior,” Kara cleared her throat. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Just… I’m just trying to say thank you for being an amazing mentor and friend.”
Cat set down her glasses and pen and looked at Kara. “Okay, so, that was either my eulogy or your dictated suicide note, is there something you need to tell me?”
“No, no. I’m just taking your advice. Carpe diem.” Kara smiled at her boss.
“Okay. Okay.” Cat shrugged, unable to look Kara in the eyes for her next sentence. “Well, you’ve made quiet the impression on me too, Kiera. Now, go fetch me that juice, chop chop.” Kara left her office and Cat closed her eyes, wincing and rubbing her forehead. She’d had a headache all day, but she assumed it was from the events that had happened in the last few days. She hoped Kara would arrive back soon with her green juice.
\---
A couple of hours went by, and the ringing in her head got worse. It seemed, however, that she was not the only one. All of the sudden, the ringing was so high-pitched and intense that Cat almost collapsed on the floor holding her head. She could see her employees in the bullpen also holding their heads and wincing.
And then, as soon as Cat was sure her head was going to explode from the pressure, it stopped. She ran to her balcony to look for Supergirl. While she didn’t see her in the sky, she had no doubt that Non and his minions had almost just destroyed National City, the country, or perhaps even the entire human race (yet again). And she had even fewer doubts that Supergirl had saved them all, once again.
Standing on her balcony searching the skies for Kara, Cat realized something important. She wanted Kara to trust her, not just Supergirl. She wanted Kara to know that she wouldn’t run a story on who she was, or do anything that would hurt her.
Ever since Kara had hugged her the day before, Cat couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt to be in her strong arms, how warm her body was, how amazing she smelled. More than anything, she couldn’t forget the feeling of safety she had felt in Kara’s arms. That was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time, if she’d ever felt it at all. She knew, then, for sure, that she wanted to stop playing this game. She wanted Kara to trust her, to be honest with her, and to want to confide in her.
Mostly, she just wanted Kara. All of her. Both her assistant and National City’s hero; Kara Danvers and Supergirl. But she couldn’t have that, not as long as Kara was still her assistant. She knew what she had to do, if she ever hoped for Kara to trust her.
Cat understood that Kara needed CatCo to keep her secret identity, and to remain some feelings of normalcy. She was going to promote Kara so she was no longer her assistant, and give her the very-much-deserved next step up in her career. She would begin calling her by her real name, too. She would continue to mentor both Supergirl and Kara, and do as much as possible to show the younger woman how she felt, and wait as patiently as possible for Kara to open up. From her speech earlier, she knew Kara already considered Cat a friend. And while Cat didn’t think Kara would ever return her feelings, she hoped that she was least let her into her circle.
\---
The next day at work, she brought a box to Kara’s desk and started packing up her stuff. She walked her to the office that she had cleared out for her. “This is your new office.” Cat offered.
“Wait, so you’re not firing me?” Kara seemed floored; she’d been stuttering the entire walk over here, sure she’d done something wrong.
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m promoting you. Kiera, for the last two years, you have done nothing but arrange my travel perfectly and manage my schedule flawlessly. You have become the best assistant I have ever had. And that is why I have to give you up.” Cat was going to miss Kara terribly. She knew Kara deserved so much more than being Cat’s assistant, and that she would be a great journalist someday. Cat had been holding her back, and she wanted to set her free – to let the girl shine as Kara Danvers in the same way she’d helped her shine as Supergirl.
She asked Kara to first find her a new assistant, and then take a few days to think about what she wants. Cat would consider about what she might have to offer, and then they would talk.
“This is a step up for you, Kiera. This is your end of Working Girl moment. And if you take advantage of it, I really believe that you can change the world.” Cat smiled before she turned and began to walk away. She had chosen her words carefully, recalling the similar phrase she’d said to Supergirl and hoped the meaning wasn’t lost on Kara.
“Miss Grant?” Cat turned around swiftly and touched her necklace. “The end of Working Girl always makes me cry.” Kara’s eyes shone with unshed tears. She had truly enjoyed being Cat’s assistant, and would miss seeing her everyday, but was beyond thankful for this incredible opportunity. Her heart swelled with emotion and affection for Cat.
“Um, me too.” Cat sighed heavily but happily. “If you work hard, there might be a window in your future, Kara. “ The older woman held Kara’s gaze with intensity before turning around and leaving Kara in her new office. | 7fb1facb3a734018a6f75fc382461782 | ['32817e2ff9fc49f18aae307e84c1d807'] | Regina’s eyes traveled the length of Emma’s body and she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t do this.”
Emma merely smirked in response. “Henry is not going to be happy,” Regina ventured.
“See, I think that’s where you’re wrong, Your Majesty. I’ve never lied to Henry about who I am. He knows me. For some reason, though, I have a feeling that he won’t be happy with you when he finds out that you had the chance to _save me_ but were too cowardly.” Emma shrugged in an attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.
Regina scowled and folded her arms. “He’s just a child, and if you dare try to manipulate him like that, I promise you will regret it.”
“He’s not a child anymore Regina, and I’m not manipulating him! You heard it from Merlin yourself. And to be honest, I never put that much stock into this whole magic business, but I have to admit you were right about one thing. All hearts do you is weigh you down, and love really is weakness. I feel so much better already without mine.”
Regina felt as though she’d been kicked in the chest. “Oh, Emma,” Regina sighed the blonde’s name, drawing out the second syllable in the way she sometimes did that normally tugged at Emma’s heartstrings. Now, however, Emma felt hollow more than anything else. “Please tell me you didn’t,” Regina practically begged.
Emma rolled her in eyes in annoyance and opened her mouth to retort something surely cruel. Before she could get out another word, though, Regina disappeared in a cloud of violet smoke.
\---
Regina appeared back at the clearing where they had spoken with Merlin. Her eyes sought out Henry immediately, running to him and hugging him, holding him close to her. “Mom?” He looked up expectantly, waiting for her to share.
Snow and David faced them with rapt attention, similarly eager to hear what had happened. Regina briefly noticed and felt relieved that Hook, Belle, and Robin were nowhere to be seen. She winced when she thought about Robin, and how hurt he probably was. Regina finally pulled back and blinked back watery eyes before looking at Henry and then Emma’s parents. “She’s made the full transformation,” she sighed, her expression dark.
“Transformation?” Henry blinked. “What does that mean?” Snow and David looked on with similarly confused expressions. None of them had known Rumplestiltskin before he was the Dark One, and none of them saw his transformation from a handicapped old man to the glittery, impish man the more dark that he became.
“She’s, uh,” Regina searched for the right words to make Snow and David understand the gravity of the situation without scaring Henry, “she has stopped fighting the darkness inside her. She’s embracing it.” Her eyebrows stitched together, clearly upset at whatever had just happened.
Henry pulled out of her embrace, “But mom! You’re her true love! You can save her with True Love’s Kiss!” He looked exasperated and then his eyes immediately widened, the fear apparent on his face. “Unless you already tried it? And it didn’t work?”
“No, Henry, we didn’t…” She sighed, “And it’s not that simple, it is so much more complicated than that.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn’t brush her off. “I know you love Robin,” he started, “but Mom, this is Emma. You’re both my moms, and she was the Savior for your curse, it all just makes sense!”
“Henry, no. Merlin must be wrong.” She said in a stern voice that suggested he ought not to argue with her at this moment. “Robin is my True Love. Tink used pixie dust, and pixie dust is never wrong.” She looked at the ground, a brief look of sadness crossing her face.
Henry nodded silently in acceptance this time, looking contemplative. “Well, everyone else went to the Camelot library to search through some of their history books. Belle knows a bunch of different ancient languages, so she’s gathering all of the books about the creation of the Dark One to see if there are any clues as to how else we can save Ma.” Regina nodded, “That’s a good place to start.”
“Want me to head over there and see if we can find anyone else who knows anything?” He looked up expectantly at his mother, wanting to help in any way he could.
Regina’s lips turned up into a smile, proud and touched at how thoughtful Henry was. There was truly a part of her that was scared that he would blame her and push her away, just as Emma had said. “Please, Henry, that would be so great. Your grandparents and I will be there soon.” He grinned and hugged his mother quickly again before trotting off in the direction of the library.
Regina sat down on a tree trunk and as soon as Henrys out of earshot, she sighed heavily. “There’s something else,” she looked up at Snow and David, concern painted on their faces.
“It’s okay, Regina, tell us.” Snow prompted, coming up close to her and resting a hand on her shoulder.
Regina bit her bottom lip nervously and looked at the ground. “She’s taken out her heart.” She spoke quietly, unable to make eye contact with the Charmings. “That means she's going to change even faster, and removing the Darkness from her will be even harder, if it's possible in the first place. This is my fault, I’m sorry,” She looked up at David and then at Snow. “She should have never jumped in, she should have let the Darkness consume me.”
“Regina, this isn’t your fault. Emma chose to save you because she loves you.” David spoke, and Regina was a little surprised to hear the gentleness in his voice. Regina looked away uncomfortably at the last three words. |
bbd3627c0dbe4ce2adf239049bb28f0c | ['32c6483a5e5342afa613bab31466f28e'] |
Alex was at the balcony holding her tears. She was NOT going to cry in her place of work, where any other agent could see her. She was the second in command, she would not cry.
Eliza was back in town. Alex knew that her relationship with her mother was getting better, but, even though her mother accepted her, things between them had never been easy. Eliza giving a fourteen-year old Alex more responsibilities than any adult should have, and Alex way too eager to prove herself and follow her father footsteps. Even if she hadn’t known back then exactly what those steps were, which direction they led to. He was her father, her hero – she wanted to be a hero just like him.
And she knew her mother was trying. She did. But it’s what they say about bad habits: they’re hard to quit.
So she fights the tears and hopes that her mother’s stay won’t be long as she watches the night of National City.
“Alex…”
Kara comes out to the balcony, eyes soft and penitential, as if their mother’s inability to see anything in the superhero as lacking and anything in Alex as enough is her fault.
Kara comes closer and embraces her sister from her side.
“I’m so sorry… What she said is not fair.”
Alex turns into her sister, wrapping one arm around Kara’s waist and another up her back, holding tight to her shoulder. She breathes in and lets her tears fall.
* * *
Maggie stepped onto the main DEO floor; she’d been granted entrance since the partnership between the NCPD and the alien-hunter organization became something more official. She’s ready to go ask Winn if he’s seen Alex when she looks out the balcony. The detective stops in her tracks.
Her girlfriend is close to Supergirl, she knows that, knows they’d been working together for at least a year before she met Alex, and probably knew each other from even earlier on, even though she can’t quite figure out how that would have come to be.
But seeing her girlfriend crying and holding Supergirl so close… She’s pained and worried about Alex, of course, but she’s also pained because the way Alex buries her face in the superhero’s neck is not simply friendly affection. At least not any friendly affection she has ever experienced in her, admittedly, kind of lonely-wolf lifestyled history.
Maggie hasn’t been standing there for long when an older woman runs past her and stops right before the open sliding door that leads to the balcony. Maggie moves closer.
Supergirl apparently hears the woman approaching and turns to her.
“That was not fair, Eliza, it was not fair” Supergirl says gently enough not to be considered rude, but clearly upset and protective of Alex.
“I know, _Supergirl_ , if you could give us a moment?”
Supergirl looks at Alex first, the both of them communicating without need for words, and Alex finally turns to the older woman, also noticing the detective standing there.
“Maggie”
“Danvers, hey” Maggie doesn’t want to ask if Alex is okay, she can see she’s not, but she doesn’t know what else to say either.
The older woman turns to her.
“It’s good to finally put a face to the name. I’m Eliza” the woman says extending her right hand to her. “Eliza Danvers, Alex’s mother.”
“Oh. Hi. I’m Maggie, Alex’s…” Maggie returns the handshake and looks at Alex looking for any clue of what would be the right thing to say to the other woman’s mother.
“My girlfriend” Alex offers. She takes a deep breath, looking tired. “Maybe we can do this tomorrow, mom, I’m really not in the mood.”
“Alex-“ she seems ready to insist, but deflates. “Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow. Supergirl…” Eliza smiles and cradles the superhero’s face in her palm. The affection returned when the hero places her own hand above Eliza’s.
“Come on, let’s get you home” The younger blonde answers. She gives Alex one last hug before heading out the building through the main door (which, to Maggie’s knowledge, was a first).
With her mother gone, Alex holds her hand out. “Come to mine?”
“Yea, of course.”
* * *
They’re having dinner that was not ordered in for a change when Maggie finally brings up the subject.
“Everything okay between you and your mom?”
Alex breathes in and places her fork in her plate.
“Yea… It’s just- regular Danvers family reunion. Kara can do no wrong, if she did, that’s on me for not looking after her. For not being _better_.” The last part is gritted out, her eyes shiny with restrained tears.
Maggie holds her hand, rubs its back with her thumb.
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
Alex smile is a little pained still.
“It’s fine. Our relationship is a work in progress; it has its setbacks every now and then.”
“Yea...” Maggie swallows, knowing now is not the time to bring her insecurities up, but too anxious about what she’d seen back at the DEO to really hold it in for another, more appropriate, moment. “Your mom seemed close to Supergirl.”
“Well, yes, they are.”
“Is it because of her work with alien cells and microorganisms?”
“Hm… kind of.”
“Is that how you met Supergirl? Through your mom?”
“Yes…”
Maggie could see Alex was uncomfortable with the subject and decides to ask about what she really wants to know.
“You’re really close to her too. I mean, I know you are, but I hadn’t realized just how close until today.” She swallows and forces herself to look into Alex’s eyes. “Have you two ever… I mean, I know you didn’t even know you were… until me, but has it always been only friendship between the two of you?”
Alex looks at her a little puzzled.
“Only friendship- OH, oh! Gross, Maggie!” Alex laughs.
“What’s so gross about her?” Maggie frowned. _She is beautiful, blonde, has blue eyes and can freaking fly, yea… Gross!_ | 12dc459784074539b228cab8ea7fcb55 | ['32c6483a5e5342afa613bab31466f28e'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I've posted this prompt (here: https://westerngayfairytales.tumblr.com/post/157867118845/sanvers-au-in-which) like a month ago and none of you wrote it. You guys suck. So now have my version of my own prompt.
>
> I'm aware it's not the complete prompt, but the story felt pretty finished to me. I might add the other scenes suggested in the prompt in a second chapter. Let's see what my muse thinks of it.
_July, 2013._
The music is loud as you zigzag your way through the moving bodies. One body in particular has caught your attention and, after having two beers and one last shot for courage, you decided that _what the hell_ , if you’re going to party, you might as well go for the hot, hot, _hot_ girl dancing on the table – whoever owned the house, they were in for a very long weekend of cleaning chores.
As you join the crowd watching the Coyote Ugly show the girl is putting on, you notice a blonde shy thing, perhaps too young for this frat party, enjoying the performance. The girl is pretty, for sure, just not your type. Your type is more… You look up, taking in long reddish-brown hair that reflect the laser lights, a big, sinful smile that testifies that, yes, the girl is very aware of the impact she causes, and tight jeans paired up with combat boots. Yea, that is more your speed.
You stop beside the shy girl and lean in to be heard. “Sorry to say, but you got competition.”
The girl seems confused at first, and leans in herself. “I’m sorry?” she says, pointing to her right year.
“I said you got competition,” you point to the girl on the table, “I’m gonna marry that girl.”
That makes the blonde laugh. “Really? Then I guess I should introduce myself,” she offers you her hand, clearly amused, “I’m Kara, _that girl_ ’s sister.”
“Oh,” you smile and shake her hand, “well, Kara, I'm Maggie, it’s great to finally meet you, your sister has told me a lot about you.”
“Has she now?”
“Yep,” You say as you look up again, it seems like the performer isn’t that into her show anymore. “Tell me, sis-in-law, what’s my future wife’s name again?”
As if hearing your conversation, the brunette starts climbing down from her stage. “It’s Alex. My sister’s name is Alex.”
Alex – _Alex_ , you taste the word in your mouth – walks to you holding her hair up from her neck. “Jesus! I swear any day now I’m gonna cut this thing off,” she looks at you and then back to her sister. “Making friends, Kara?”
“Yes. Alex, this is Maggie, I don’t know much about her, but she seems cool, if a little forward.”
“Hey!”
“Forward, huh?” A frown appears on Alex’s forehead, and she maneuvers her body to stand between you and her sister. “You giving my sister trouble?”
You blanch because _no, of course not_ , as Kara laughs, “not like that, Alex.”
The brunette hums, but seems to accept her sister’s word. “All right, who wants to get some water? I need to hydrate.”
* * *
“Alex, I’m tired, it’s really hard to focus on the right sounds with all this noise going on. Can we please go home?” Kara almost screams to her sister. And that’s a weird way to put it, you puzzle, but you suppose she’s right, the excessive noise is already starting to get to you too.
Alex throws her arm over her little sister’s shoulder and brings her close to kiss her forehead. “Of course. Just remember: you were the one who wanted to know what the fuss was all about.”
“Well, you gotta try it before you kick it, right?”
Kara turns to you, touching your wrist to catch your attention, even though she already had it. “We’re heading out. Are you gonna stay? Cause we can give you a ride.”
“No, it’s cool, I live nearby. Thanks though. It was nice meeting you guys.”
“You too,” Kara replied, taking a step back to let her sister say goodbye. Even in this heat you can feel yourself blushing as you ask Alex for her number, _to keep in touch, I don’t really know anybody here yet_. You catch Kara’s knowing look as she watches her sister press her number into your phone – you have the feeling Alex hasn’t realized she is being hit on, but you’re sure Kara will fill her in once they’re alone.
* * *
_October, 2013._
You’ve been hanging out with the Danvers sisters for about three months now. You actually have a few classes with Alex. She’s already well into her Master’s in bioengineer, but she takes some (many, she’s nothing if not an over-achiever) non-compulsory classes, and so you see her twice a week in your forensics class.
Today Kara is burning the midnight oil in the University newspaper, which makes this movie night an evening for you and Alex alone.
You’re watching some trashy romcom so you can allow yourselves not to pay attention to the movie and talk the night away.
“God, that is the worst,” you say as the girl on screen has a fit of jealousy. “Are you the jealous type, Danvers?”
She frowns and answers with her eyes still on the TV, “I wouldn’t know.”
You turn to her, movie forgotten. This is interesting.
“You never dated?”
“I did… Kinda. It just never really lasted that long, I wasn’t into them, there was no point.”
“So you were never with someone you actually liked?”
“I guess, but it’s actually that dating… It’s not really my thing. I never enjoyed it… I mean, there were parts I wasn’t opposed to, but yea, just… Not my thing,” she clears her throat. “And how about you? That friend of yours, James, he said you are the lady whisperer. No new perspectives lately?” |
cbf5d5f941b64cd6a07b2eddb1ac59da | ['32e7f8770a12433784392f92a2ce1ff0'] | Ben looked up from the paper he was reading, rocky brows lifted as he and Reed shared a look. “That’s one way to handle bad press?”
“Johnny,” Sue groaned. “You cannot fuck us into having good PR!”
“I kissed him first, actually,” Peter said, fiddling with the strap of his camera.
Sue’s expression sharpened as she cut her gaze over to Peter. “ _Did you now_?”
“Johnny was talking about… I think fuel injection systems? Something like that. And he just - I couldn’t help myself!”
Sue frowned. “You couldn’t help but kiss him?”
“And things kind of…escalated. From there.”
Johnny shrugged as Peter gave her a sheepish grin and Sue groaned again. “Ugh.”
“Hey, don’t yell at me, I slept with him because he’s Spider-Man.”
“ _WHAT?!_ ”
**Author's Note:**
> Yes, Stan Lee's cameo in this is as a hot dog vendor.
>
> Also, The 2009 Corolla is actually a really good, reliable car and almost everyone around where I live drives one. It's freaky. | a3f37e797fec4f519d1fabffc06ca7b1 | ['32e7f8770a12433784392f92a2ce1ff0'] | Peter blinked. She had him there. “...I guess not.”
After that, he ended up at the blond wallflower’s table. The blond looked him up and down with a slow smirk, and Peter could feel himself blushing as he sat. “Hi, I’m Peter Parker.”
“Jonathan Storm - call me Johnny.” Peter tilted his head a little, and Johnny sighed heavily. “Let's get this out of the way now: yes, I am _that_ Johnny Storm.”
Peter frowned. “I feel like I should probably know what you are talking about, but…” he shrugged.
Johnny stared at him. “The Human Torch of the Fantastic Four?”
_Oh._ The Human Torch - and, by extension, the rest of the Fantastic Four - was a legit, actual-facts superhero who could set himself on fire and fought cosmic world eaters, so he didn't really run in Peter's home town hero slash vigilante crime-fighting circle, and every time Peter had seen him before, the guy was on fire. Which was a shame, really, because _wow, gorgeous_.
Instead, Peter said “Yeah, but I’m not on a speed date with The Human Torch, I’m on a speed date with Johnny Storm.”
Johnny blinked those fantastically (ha!) blue eyes at him, like he wasn't expecting that, and smiled at him. “Well now. You're an interesting guy, aren't you, Pete?”
Peter shrugged. “Not more interesting than you are, honestly. I mean, you could capitalize on the whole Human Torch thing and get a date that way - why this?”
Johnny ran a hand through his hair. “I signed Ben up for this as a prank, but then he got a real date all on his own - I’m so proud - and Sue made me come in his place as a lesson in humility or something. What about you, Pete? Why are you here?”
“My ex-girlfriend turned best friend was worried about my disastrous love life and signed me up for this to maybe find someone willing to, and I quote, ‘put up with my weirdness and date me’.”
Johnny snorted. “Okay, so what makes you weird?”
Peter wasn't sure how to answer that, not when all of Johnny's attention was focused on him like that, like nothing else happening mattered. “I, um, take pictures of Spider-Man.”
“Really?”
Peter nodded, and it felt weird, talking to an _actual_ superhero about his vigilante alter-ego. “Yeah, so I am constantly having to run off at the first sign of trouble to make sure I get good shots of the fight. Makes me very late to a lot of dates.”
“...The Daily Bugle has the best shots of Spider-Man in town, so I hear,” Johnny said carefully. “Your work?”
Peter blinked. “I - yeah, how’d you guess?”
Johnny ran a hand over his face with a self-deprecating little laugh. “God, this is embarrassing - I recognized your name. I’m a little bit of a Spidey fan, you know? And everyone knows you take the best pictures of Spider-Man.”
What.
_WHAT_.
_OH GOD_.
“...do you want his number, or-?”
Johnny laughed, and Peter could hear everyone turning to look at them but he couldn’t take his eyes off Johnny if he tried. “Oh Pete - no. No no no. If Spidey trusted you with that, no. Don’t give it to me. I’m sure he and I will run into each other next time something attacks New York.”
“So, sometime in the next five minutes, then.”
Johnny laughed again, looking a little startled, like he didn’t actually expect to laugh at that. “It does kinda feel that way, doesn’t it?” Johnny reached out and covered Peter’s hand with his own. “Right now, I _really_ want to know more about _you_ , Pete.”
Peter couldn’t stop his blush, staring down at their hands like he couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't, actually, believe this was happening. “There's not really much to tell? I’m a chemistry geek of the highest caliber, but science degrees are expensive, so I take pictures of Spider-Man.”
“And sell them to the Daily Bugle, who shit all over the guy.”
Peter shrugged a shoulder. “I don't like it any more than you, but I don't write the articles, you know? And this job lets me work around my class schedule - sort of. Crime waits for no organic chem test and all that - and JJ really does pay the best money out there for pictures.”
Johnny nodded. “Here's a question - what else do you take pictures of?”
Peter tipped his head back to the ceiling to think. “Well, I got a picture of the world's fattest pigeon the other day. Thing was bigger than my head. And, uh, MJ paid me to do a couple of headshots for her.”
“What, no nudes?”
Peter snorted. “What, mine or hers?”
“I would never ask someone for another person's nudes. Yours, Pete.”
Peter flushed and took a sip of his water. “I, uh, no, no nudes.”
“Shame.”
He wasn't sure what made him say it - Peter was honestly positive he took complete leave of his senses when he flipped his hand over under Johnny's and stroked his fingertips lightly over the inside of Johnny's wrist as he said “Maybe if our second date goes well, I’ll take some for you.”
Johnny’s pulse jumped under Peter's fingertips. “A second date?”
“Aren't we counting this as the first?”
Johnny's pulse continued to race as he spoke, though it didn't show in his face. “I suppose that is the whole point of of this speed dating thing.” Johnny licked his lips nervously, completely short-circuiting Peter's brain. “You wanna get out of here so we can talk without being stared at?”
“Are people staring?” Peter had completely forgotten about the others.
“Actually, the fifteen minutes are up.”
Peter looked up at Tiffany as she smiled at them - a much realer, less terrifying smile that made her nose wrinkle cutely when she did it. “Sorry,” Peter mumbled, feeling a blush creep up his neck. |
e9edd7b5b1bd416ebbe7bcb95f228d23 | ['331a31563301492695f9d0f60da0d821'] |
I Would Hold You For Forever
**Author's Note:**
> August 6: Post-Canon/Pre-Canon
>
> also, the tags got all messed up, sorry!
Soft, soothing waves of jazzy electronic music flooded the lab, most likely coming from their living space. Dave decided to take some of his free time to share his DJing skills with Rose, but his sister was far from letting his style predominate.
The whole meteor had the traces of their stay, not only sound-wise. Maybe that too. From Dave’s loud singing in the ablution block, to Kanaya’s chirping mixing with rose’s uniquely human laughter, the place screamed Earth.
But it was also in other aspects, so basic to their lives Karkat had to wait to grasp fully. He woke up to the smell of coffee, on the rare occasion he did sleep. There were cozies for every electronic device (a clear courtesy of Rose’s boredom), and every common area had at least a section of light.
Due to their inability to see in the dark, which Karkat could only read as a great fault in their evolutive process, the twins worked on alchemizing fairy light over lamp over glow in the dark stickers. All of which, he suspected, served more purpose than what meets the eye.
Moreover, living in a shared space took its toll on the trolls. None of them were used to this collective lifestyle, and seemingly only Kanaya could fully embrace it. Terezi was monopolizing the Mayor, Vriska was always either doing something sketchy or planning for their inevitable arrival, Gamzee was Gamzee and Karkat had nothing to do by himself.
None of the books were any good (he’d read the decent ones over and over already), re-learning how to hack turned out disastrous and he couldn’t spend all his time with Dave. He wanted to be able to be alone.
So he usually found himself wondering aimlessly, going into some of the open areas and mapping out his view, each angle of the structures on the meteor and the places he has yet to go to.
Currently, he was making his way back to the lab, ready to get some socializing down. Maybe ask how are things on the apple juice front, try and help a little. But then he hears a nasally voice coming from the intercom. Vriska.
“We are approaching another dream bubble! This one is medium sized, so brace yourselves and _avoid trouble._ ”
Not five minutes later, when he’s going through the door to his respiteblock, he senses the environment morph into somewhere else. Somewhere warm and vaguely familiar. He now finds himself on a hallway with numbered doors.
From the ones he attempts to open, the only one which does ends in 04. It reveals an open kitchen and a living room morphed into someone’s living space. He was in Dave’s old hive. The insides were quite as he remembered from the viewfinder on trollian, but the dream bubble situation made it feel different.
Karkat imagined that was due to it being a memory from Dave, so it also carried the emotional baggage it did within his mind. He felt as if he should be hyperaware of his surroundings, paranoid even.
Not letting it get to him, he looks around a bit more. Picking up one smuppet here, checking out the videogames available (maybe he’ll captchalogue some, it might come out salvageable). The problem with captachloguing things from dream bubbles is, it depended on how well the individual knew it in the first place.
He moves to the kitchen, admires the collection of weapons. None of them appeal to Karkat. He glimpses at a red blinking light at the corner of the wall, a recording camera. Well, that sure ain’t creepy at all.
Dave’s room, if he recalls properly, is through the other door and… yup, there it is. Karkat walks in carefully, in case Dave’s already in there. He spots something interesting near the bed and hastily captchalogues it. There’s no way that one’s going to come out messed up.
At the corner of his eyes, he senses something moving. Attributing to dream bubble fluctuation stuff, Karkat doesn’t pay much mind. He turns around to see lil’ Cal sitting on top of the turntables, fist outstretched. They both enter a staring contest, which Karkat admits is moronic, until he finally gives in and fist bumps its tiny hands. Reluctantly.
Okay, he is definitely getting out of there. Nothing else to see, chooses to go to the roof. Maybe stargaze, he’s never seen Earth’s stars. Maybe have his eyes burned out by the sun. Who knows. Something drops behind him when he passes by the hall.
On his way out, he glimpses at Cal once in the kitchen, and again on his peripheral vision as he’s closing the door. But it totally doesn’t freak him out at all.
The staircase is precarious, the door couldn’t save someone from a fire if it tried. Inside, there were some squiggly lines on the wall and a ‘dave was here’. Cute. The steps were stained by old bubblegum and what appeared to be oil, aside usual staircase grossness.
Coming out of the door, Karkat was relieved to find it was night. Karkat was also (mostly) relieved to find another breathing body, red cape betraying that this iteration of Strider was, in fact, the one he was familiarized with, as opposed to an even more immature dream projection.
He sat atop the air conditioning structure, and turned around with a jump when he heard the door close. He sights when he notices it’s just Karkat and turns back around.
“Creepy doll.” Karkat puts simply before standing besides Dave. There were no stars in the sky.
“Yup.” Dave pops the p. There’s silence, and then noise, the kind Karkat does not know, but associates with the moving red and yellow and white lights from the street.
“It’s really noisy here.” He says. “Couldn’t they drive silently?” | 94eaea240b974290aa36d01d9edffcaf | ['331a31563301492695f9d0f60da0d821'] |
Sleepwalking
**Author's Note:**
> Hey, before we start this:
> THERE IS SWEARING. not a lot tho.
> this is my first Voltron fic, if there is any problems with character construction, let me know and i fully intend on fixing.
Lance didn’t really remember sleepwalking as much as he remembered waking in weird places with distressed people .
Once, he woke up by bumping into Hunk in the halls back in their time at Garrison. Not too many days later, he woke up freezing cold out in the deck. He had also paid his lion more than a few visits during his sleep, but the blessed thing sensed his lack of lucidity, thus stopping him from freezing the whole castle or anything of the like . Which is why he was not that surprised waking up sitting against a wall in someone else's bunk.
What got to him was the mumbling Keith holding on to his blanket with his dear life and tears staining his pillowcase .
He wasn't kicking and screaming, it seemed more like he was feeling cornered and trying to protect something . His face was almost completely pressed into the pillow, his breathing heavy. His body was pressed against the wall where his bed ended, and he barely moved. Lance walked towards him with concern and lightly touched his arm. He didn't seem to respond to the contact, so he let himself relax his hand and brush the other's shoulder and upper arm. With his other hand, he tilted his chin a bit, so the air could go through and the breathing process could be easier.
Lance would feel bad leaving him like that there. Even though it was kind of a creepy situation if Keith were to wake up, so he knelt by the bed and waited until he calmed down. He adjusted his blanket and left, hoping this was a one time thing.
-
The morning after, Lance focused on his green slime... (thing? where was that from again?) to avoid having to look at Keith, or anyone else, pretty much, in the eye. He moved on with his day as normal, missing quite a few jokes here and there, but he was so tired it was okay. Since arriving, this had been one of his worst nights. Once the day ended and he returned to his bed, he couldn't help but feel disturbed. In his mind, Keith should have been his arch nemesis, or rival or something, he shouldn't be petting him to sleep!
He wasn't ashamed. Oh no. He was ENRAGED. Or that's what Lance thought, until he found himself awakened on the floor by a sob. Apparently , people with sleep problems tended to stick together after all. Or be drawn to each other. He tried doing the same things he did the other night, but to no avail. Keith was even more restless trying to find something to hold on to, but his blanket had been tangled on his feet.
Lance, mind still numb from sleep, tried to understand what the other was searching for. He curiously drifted his hand down Keith's arm. When he reached the palm, his hand was taken abruptly. Keith pulled it closer and Lance, not interested at all in waking him up, didn't resist. He was now in a uncomfortable position, sitting at the edge of the bed, one arm stretched out, all his weight on the other.
The next day, Lance had fingernail marks on his hand.
-
Being near Keith was growing more and more difficult, to the point someone could notice. Thus, after the third night , which had him awake and with aching limbs from being pulled closer, Pidge's approach had him unimpressed .
"Lance, join me, please." She said after dinner.
They walked by the endless corridor until they were isolated from the other paladins.
"It has come to my attention that you have been sleepwalking again." She said. "Hunk has seen you walking out of your room on two different occasions."
"Yeah huh, what's the problem? I've always done that." Lance felt she knew where he was going with this, but he wanted to evade it as much as possible. Last thing he wanted was having his little secret spread.
"The problem, Lance, is that you have been focusing even less, if that's possible. But not in the hyperactive way we've grown accustomed to. You are just... absent. You have dark circles under your eyes too. And your hand was completely messed up. What have you been up to?"
"I'm not the one with the problems, Pidge. Mind your own business."
"You don't understand, this is my business. If you keep up with this, you may actually damage our team. Each paladin is important to Voltron, and with you in that mental state, you might actually jeopardize not only us, but the ones we seek to defend ."
Pidge had a point. It didn't seem like he would be getting a decent amount of sleep anytime soon either. Lance let his body slide against the wall and landed on the floor with a sigh.
"How can I deal with nightmares?"
"Well, you can either control the dream, somehow lose the fear it is causing you, or just... let it be. I'm in Technical Support, not Human Support, I don't know."
"I don't mean mine, I mean someone else's."
"Oh, that's fucked up. I think it's up to the person? Talk to him and figure it out."
"How do you even know it's a him?"
"Well, that is easy. I remember my dreams so I know I don't have nightmares. Allura's bedroom is to the opposite direction of where Hunk saw you. Also, if you were to ask me, I think I know who is this mysterious lover boy."
"Gross. Who?" |
b8540ee822f54a91a79924aea0e5595a | ['33404259caca4ddb82163b48840b3a8d'] | “It’s all in there, Harry before you go I want you to promise me you’ll be the best damn caregiver to this boy and give him the best life he deserves.” Eileen said as Harry nodded.
“I will, I promise,” Harry replied as Eileen nodded and helped put Louis duffle bag over the shoulder his head wasn’t resting and Harry allowed her to kiss Louis who was now softly snoring on the forehead as both herself and Harry said goodbye to one another as he left the building.
Once home Harry parked the car in the garage and shut the mechanical door as he got out and went to the back passenger door and opened to see Louis still quietly snoring and couldn’t help but find it adorable and carefully lifted the boy out of the car seat and carried him in Harry had decided to retrieve the duffle bag of Louis belongings later but right now wanted to get his little inside and down for his nap.
“Oh Harry, you’re home how’d it…oh he’s asleep!” Anne said as Harry nodded before going upstairs to the nursery that was next door to his room and made quick work of getting Louis changed into a diaper a soft warm onesie before laying him in the crib and kissed his forehead and whispered, “Sleep baby boy,” And left grabbing the baby monitor and headed downstairs where he was met by his mum.
“He’s so small!” Anne commented as Harry nodded.
“I know, I introduce myself to him and he just climbed into my arms and clung to me as if he had always done it, oh! His duffle bag is in my car let me go get it,” Harry said he quickly went back out the garage and grabbed and returned, he had remembered seeing Eileen place the file in the bag and pulled it out.
“His names Louis, he was abandoned by his family three years ago, they took his brother and sisters with them but left him behind, and he lived on the streets for a year before living in the shelter he was in, and he has a headspace of 6 months to 2 years of age,” Harry said as he read the information to his mum.
“Aww well, he has a daddy now that’ll give him the best life he deserves, and I’m going to spoil my grandson to the extreme!” Anne said as Harry smiled and nodded.
“I know and I know Gemma will be thrilled to meet her new nephew,” Harry replied as they continued looking over the information provided for them in the file.
“Oh his birthday is December 24th, we should do something special for him,” Anne suggested as Harry nodded it was nearing the holiday’s and Harry wanted to make his Little’s first birthday and Christmas as part of the family a memorable one and the best one he had ever had.
“I’m planning to make it his best one, even if it’s just going to be you, me, Gemma and Dad,” Harry said, even though he had Niall and Liam from school he didn’t want to overwhelm Louis with too many people at his first birthday with his new family.
“But what about Liam and Niall, isn’t Niall a little?” Asked Anne.
“He is, but his head space is permanently 1 years old, so I don’t know how well they’d get along,” Harry explained even though he had grown up with Niall and Liam, he still wasn’t sure if it would be wise to have the blonde little meeting Louis or not.
As the mother and son went over the file the sudden sound of whimpering could be heard come over the baby monitor, “Guess someone’s awake,” Harry commented as he stood up and made his way upstairs to the nursery where he could hear the rustle from the crib as Harry made his way over.
“Oh hey little guy, you awake from your nap?” Harry cooed as he picked up Louis and saw he was indeed of a diaper change.
“Aww, someone needs a diaper change,” He said as he wiped Louis tears away and carried the boy over to the adult sized changing table and laid him down and remove the onesies dropping it into the hamper next to the table and taking over the diaper and dropping it into the trash can on the other side.
“Cold,” Louis whined as Harry smiled softy.
“I know baby, just two more minutes and you’ll be all comfy again,” Harry said as he made quick work of changing his boy and lifted him up.
“All better baby, comfy?” He said as Louis nodded with a grin on his face as his daddy smiled and kissed his cheek and offered him a pacifier that he gladly accepted.
“Now let’s go downstairs so you can meet your grandma!” Harry cheered as they started downstairs to the kitchen where Anne was speaking with the house manager as themselves along with a few members of the house stuff were unpacking some items that’s were meant for Louis.
“Aww well look who’s awake,” Anne said as she walked over to Harry as he held Louis in his arms who buried his head into the taller mans neck out of shyness, “Aww don’t be shy love, I’m your grandma Anne,” She said sweetly with a warm smile as Louis peeked out at her.
“Can you say hi to your grandma sweetie?” Harry said encouragingly as Louis waved a little it was obvious to both Anne and Harry that the little wasn’t quite ready to open up yet. | bcde7a530b1b44978c3af2159fd70204 | ['33404259caca4ddb82163b48840b3a8d'] |
1. Louis meet Harry
“Louis! Can you come into the living room a for minute?” Called the Dominant of the 17-year-old blue eyed submissive who was sitting on the floor of his room doing his homework as he quickly and obediently hoped up and made his way to the living room where his Dominant and dark haired woman sat waiting for him.
“Yes Miss?” He asked he came in and knelt in front of her like a good Submissive was suppose to do as he felt her run her hand through his hair and praised him on how much of a good boy he was for listening.
“Louis, look at me love,” She ordered as he looked up where he was met with the kind but tired blue eyes of his Mistress something about them told him something was wrong something that made him worry.
“Miss, what’s wrong?” Louis asked as his Dominant sighed.
“Lou, do you remember when I went to the doctors a few days ago because I’m tired all the time and hardly any appetite sometimes?” She asked as the Submissive nodded, as she sighed, “Well, my results came in and it’s not good, not good at all,” She continued.
“Miss, what’s wrong? Are you dying?” Louis asked, as she nodded sadly.
“I am Louis, it’s cancer aggressive cancer, leukemia, there was an option for radiation and chemo, but the doctor said its already too far along to do much of anything,” Raelynn explained she could see tears forming her Submissives eyes accompanied by fear and worry, she knew he was scared of losing her and what would happen once she was gone motioning for him to next to her on the couch the young sub quickly did say and was instantly wrapped in his Dominat’s arms.
“I’m scared Miss, I don’t want to lose you, please….are you going for the chemotherapy?” He asked as he clung to her for dear life.
“I am sweet boy, but they don’t think it’ll help much,” She explained as he felt her kiss the top of his head and pulled him into her lap as she rubbed his back as he cried.
“Mistress?” He asked quietly.
“Yes Lou?” She replied.
“What is going to happen to me when you’re gone?” He asked as he felt her nuzzle her face into his hair holding him tightly in her lap.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about Louis, see as a Dominant I can either set you free,” She explained seeing fear in Louis eyes, he had been born into the Submissive lifestyle as his mom was a Submissive and he was raised as one and never knew what it was like to have freedom of his own, even though Raelynn had treated him as an equal from the day she bought him at the auction house when he was 14-years-old, “Or I can sell you to another Dominant,” She said.
“NO! Please Miss, please don’t sell me, please!” Louis begged as Raelynn stroked his hair in a calming manner and placed her hand on the back of his neck to help comfort him.
“Louis, I’m not going to sell you or set you free, but I do have arrangements for you,” She explained as Louis looked up at her waiting for her to continue, “A friend I’ve made arrangements already with him to take you in as his Submissive,” She continued.
“But….what about my schooling?” Louis asked, Raelynn knew how important school as to her young Submissive and knew he didn’t want to get behind on his studies.
“That’s taken care of, he lives close to your school so you’ll either be able to walk if you wish or he can drive you,” She explained.
“OK….Do I get to meet him before hand?” Louis asked as Raelynn smiled.
“Of course, in fact that’s where I was before I came home, I stopped by his place to discuss what’s going and asked if he would take care of you when I’m gone and he agreed and wants to meet you this weekend in fact, is that ok?” She asked as Louis nodded.
“I would like that, I think it would make transitioning from you to him easier if I was familiar with him,” Louis said as Raelynn nodded in understanding.
“Understandable,” Raelynn replied with a sigh.
“Miss, are you ok?” The Submissive asked as the Dom nodded.
“I am, just tired and have a lot to get do before….” The Dominant said trailing off as Louis wrapped her in a tight hug and kissed her cheek.
“I know Miss, and I love you and always will,” Louis replied reassuring his Dominant.
“I love you too, now why don’t you go finish your homework and I’ll go order some dinner and let my friend know that this weekend will be perfect for you two to meet,” Raelynn said as Louis stood up and went his room and sat back down on the floor where his books were spread out and began working again but couldn’t help but keep thinking about his future the only Dominant he had known was dying and he was going to be leaving the home he loved more than anything else to live somewhere else, sighing Louis put his math book down and leaned his head back against the bed thinking about it, “What if he’s mean?” Louis thought, but then shook the thought out of his head.
“No Raelynn wouldn’t leave me to an abusive Dominant,” He thought to himself as his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Raelynn calling for him to come and eat dinner and so his Dominant could tell him what was happening during the coming weekend and how Louis was expected to act and be respectful to his future Dom.
“Miss, may as I ask a question?” Louis asked as Raelynn nodded allowing him to speak.
“Um….What is your friends name? And what are they like?” He asked hesitantly. |
072f94846efb4c6d89185fbfea869cb7 | ['336eca407bc84f7fa5ff399187d045eb'] |
A Haunted Forest
**Author's Note:**
> For more about the _Jin Dui_ and her crew, visit <http://jin-dui.swartzer.com/index.php>
**_2018 hours, July 1, 2514_ **
“Keen!” said a familiar voice, somewhere in the distance. Cianán moaned something and dragged a pillow protectively over his head, enjoying his clean bunk and his post-lunch nap far too much to rouse at the summons. The life of a runaway-teenager on the mean streets of Beylix’s capital city had not prepared the youth for the regular -- and ample -- meals regularly served up aboard the _Jin Dui,_ and his habit of eating everything and anything in reach whenever the opportunity presented itself was proving problematic. What had been a survival skill a week ago meant he today (and for the last few days in a row) Cianán felt like he was drifting along in a steady state of food coma, from which he roused from just in time for the next summons to the galley table.
“Keen!” the voice was back, and closer now. The awareness of that had just begun to settle when a hand grabbed the youth’s shoulder and gave him a shake. “Wake it up, _xiǎo gōngzhǔ!_ C’mon, there’s work to be done!”
Cianán let Sully drag him up into a sitting position. He yawned hugely and swung his legs over the side of his bunk, scrubbing an arm across his gritty eyes. “I’m up, I’m up,” he groaned.
“Hoss said you were a big help in getting that wiring done this morning,” Sully said, all conversation now that the crime of waking Keen from his food coma had been committed. “He says you climbed up to the cargo bay overheads like monkey.” Cianán heard the “but” coming and forced himself to open his eyes wider, struggling to focus on the ship’s first mate in anticipation. Sully never failed to disappoint. “But Hoss also said you also refused the safety harness he told you to put on. That’s a black mark, buddy. You get told to do something by the senior crew, you do it. And no more climbing without the safety gear -- dong ma?”
“Yeah,” Cianán said, trying to restrain another jaw-splitting yawn. “I hear you.”
“Uh huh.” Sully was grinning, not fooled for a moment. “That’s a _‘yes, sir, Sullivan-sir, I heard the syllables and consonants that just issued forth from your mouth, sir,’_ isn’t it? Not a _‘yes, sir, next time Hoss tells me to strap on the safety gear I will do as the good Hoss-meister tells me.’”_
Cianán grinned back and shoved himself to his feet, finger-combing his tousled dyed hair with both hands. “Yes, sir!” he agreed unhelpfully, earning a roll of Sully’s dark eyes. “You got more scut work for me?”
“That I do, me boyo,” Sully said. “Captain said to hand this off to you in the morning, but she doesn’t know you like I do to understand yet that you’re a nocturnal species of space monkey. So I’ll pass it off to you now, and let you complete it as you see fit.” Sully gestured behind himself, and for the first time, Cianán noticed the collection of paint cans stacked next to the cabin door.
“Paint?” the youth said eagerly. “I get to paint something?”
Sully grinned again, pleased by Cianán’s obvious delight. “The crew of the _Lucky Day_ left us those. High-quality UV fluorescent industrial safety paint. Captain wants you to paint the steps on all of the stairs ship-wide. Slap a stripe across the top of each step, so they’ll glow in hazard lights. You’re to do hatch frames and touch up all emergency panels as well. Think you can manage that?”
The practicality of the task was an immediate buzz-kill. “I can,” Cianán replied mournfully, his previous enthusiasm having vanished like a popped soap bubble.
“Good. Since you’ve caught up on your beauty sleep, then, get started on it tonight. Get the high-traffic zones while everyone else is in their bunks.” Sully clapped Cianán on the shoulder. “Have fun,” the first mate said cheerfully, before turning on his heel and striding out of the cabin.
Cianán yawned a last yawn, stretched experimentally, then squatted down to inspect the paint cans and bucket of supplies Sully had left behind. The brushes were stiff and dry, having been used before and given a layman’s cleaning. Cianán collected them and stood, having a strong suspicion that if he couldn’t find some vinegar up in the ship’s galley, it would be easy enough to find someone else who’d know where it was.
* * * | d34672fa37a942ddb45b29b981e2128a | ['336eca407bc84f7fa5ff399187d045eb'] | Cooper was nodding again, although this time in response to information scrolling across the co-pilot station's secondary screen. "We'll have a bit of a quiet stretch before things get really busy, it looks like," the captain said. "I'm heading back to the cargo bay to take care of the stock. After that, I'll get to the galley before Halo's up to take his shift. I'll have secondary comm shunted over to me then and there."
"Yes, sera." Fatima gathered up her courage as the captain moved to rise. "Have you decided?" she asked.
Cooper stood for a moment, leaning on her cane as she looked at Fatima. "Decided?" the woman asked in return.
Fatima swallowed heavily. "When we left Deadwood, you said you would decide which of us you would hire on, after we had worked our passage to Persephone." Fatima heard the crack in her voice, and knew that her desperate fear was exposed.
_"If you impress me, I'll make you an offer once we reach the Eavesdown Docks."_ Those had been the captain's exact words. _"If you don't impress me, then at Persephone we'll part ways."_ Fatima had spent the past three weeks sitting her watches dutifully, and tackling every skut-work chore she could with diligent fervor. But Fatima knew her own measure -- and she had done nothing impressive. She was a decent pilot, but she had none of Halo's war-honed natural talent. And while her simm-scores at helm matched Sully's fairly equally, she had none of the rest of his general skills that had made him valuable in helping to patch up the ship. Nor did she have the easy and friendly manner both men exhibited. _I am the least valuable person aboard,_ Fatima feared.
The captain's preoccupied expression had vanished, replaced by a thoughtful frown. Fatima again felt her stomach clench painfully. "What are your intentions?" the captain asked in return, all but confirming Fatima's fear. _I am the least valuable person aboard,_ Fatima knew. _The ship cannot afford too many crew. The captain cannot afford to keep me! Where shall I go? How shall I survive?_
"I want to stay aboard the _Jin Dui_." Fatima struggled not to sound too fearful, too desperate, but then her plea swept out of her in an impassioned rush. "My ship is dead. My family is dead. I have no one to turn to and no where to go. Please, captain. Do not cast me out. I will work without wages, I will do every chore no one else wishes to do, just please, do not cast me out! Not here. Please."
Fatima's anguish made its impression. The captain let go a heavy breath, then drank the dregs from her tea cup as though buying a moment's thought. "You won’t be working without wages," Cooper finally said. "Not unless we all do... which may prove more likely than not." Cooper held her eyes steadily until certain Fatima understood she had what she had begged for, then gave her a single nod before turning and limping to the bridge hatchway. "I'll call up when I'm back at work in the galley," the captain said in parting. "I'll let you know when to switch over comm two to the auxiliary."
Fatima sagged back into the seat, weak with relief once Cooper had departed. Fatima found it a struggle to find her voice again, but she managed it. "Aye, captain," she said in response.
* * *
_**0715 hours** _
The moment Abigail Baldwin had been dreading had finally come.
Abby sat on the edge of her bunk, her mahogany hair hanging in a long, freshly-showered curtain down her back. Reluctantly, she reached after her Finder from the let-down desk beside her bunk. _I could always go eat breakfast instead,_ she thought as she picked the device up. It felt too sleek and feather-light in her hand to be the source of such a weight of dread. _I should. I really should. Eat first. Who knows what's waiting in my message queue to spoil my stomach. My day. My life?_
She waffled for a moment in indecision, but Abby knew that if she put the unit down again, she would face a Sisyphean curse in summoning the courage up again for a second attempt. No. She had already put this off for several days, secretly relieved to hear Chang grousing about no Cortex access because the ship's _goushi_ comm range couldn't sustain a connection to the outer relays.
The unexpected reprieve had only stretched out her fear, knowing that a working connection was inevitable as the ship neared its destination.
No. Enough was enough. Time to bite the bullet and get it over with. Abby slipped the stretchy plas-suede over her left wrist, and the iridescent pearl band immediately conformed itself snugly against her skin. Half a heartbeat later, the personal unit gave its pleasing waking chime and an opening holo-display of blooming cherry orchard on the slopes above Lake Mikado beamed above Abby’s wrist. Almost immediately, a crimson priority light began to flash in the lower left screen corner and a vibration pulsed insistently against the underside of her wrist, while on the holo-display, the cherry blossoms swayed behind a semi-transparent overlay of scrolling Cortex news-notes. |
46a6aeed829b43dfbb27f6e0355eae06 | ['3371c528ca3b44ba8d166ba3cd40d0b0'] | While Steve sketches, Bucky looks dazedly at him. Steve is now completely focused on the sketch in front of him, every now and then glancing at Bucky and then the pencil meets the paper again. It goes like this for about half an hour, Bucky can’t really tell. He is floating, not paying attention to anything else than Steve.
Steve finally sets the pencil down and looks at the sketch for a minute. “Come here.”
Bucky obediently gets up and walks over to where Steve is sitting, automatically falling to his knees next to Steve, eyes towards the floor. A big hand finds its way into Bucky’s hair and lightly massage his scalp.
“Look, baby. Look at how beautiful and pretty you are.”
Bucky, now that he has permission, lifts his head and looks at the sketch. He forgets how to breathe for a second. The sketch is pretty. Steve drew him pretty. He is pretty. Bucky is pretty. And Steve showed him.
“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. The hand on his head stills and moves to hold his chin up. He stares into Steve’s eyes and sees love, affection and want. Bucky wants to cry, so happy is he.
“You’re pretty, baby. Never believe anything else,” Steve says and his voice is a little rough. Bucky laughs and cries at the same time and buries his face in Steve’s thigh.
“I’m pretty,” he mumbles into Steve’s thigh. The hand on his chin moves to the back of his neck and lightly squeezes. Bucky sighs contentedly, he wants to stay here forever. He loves Steve, Steve loves him, he is pretty.
“Come on, baby, up,” Steve says and grips Bucky’s upper arms to help him up and straddling Steve’s lap. The sketchbook and pencil are on the coffee table again, the bottle of lube tucked between the armrest and Steve’s thigh.
“I want to take care of you now, can I do that? Are you okay with that?” Steve asks and Bucky wants to smother him in kisses, he loves that Steve is always so considerate. But he doesn’t do that because Steve expects an answer.
“Yes. Please take care of me now. I am okay with it. I want it,” Bucky whispers breathlessly and tries to rock his hips into Steve’s but strong hands hold him still. Bucky whimpers.
“Shh, baby. We have all day. We don’t gotta rush, okay? Just relax and let me take care of you,” Steve says and, when Bucky whispers another breathless yes, please, he grips his face in both hands and pulls him into a hot open-mouthed kiss.
They kiss like that for a long while and Bucky loses any concept of time the moment Steve’s tongue slips into his mouth, claiming him, showing him he is Steve’s, telling him how much he is loved. Steve’s hands roam over his entire body and never do they hesitate when they press down on Bucky’s hips or pinch his nipples, rub softly and slowly over them or grab his breasts and squeeze. Bucky’s hands never leave their place tangled in Steve’s hair, he hasn’t gotten permission to move them and to be honest Bucky likes to just hold on and be taken.
He whimpers slightly when Steve’s mouth leaves his own but that whimper quickly turns into a moan when that mouth starts licking and nipping at the skin on the base of his throat, sometimes sucking hard, pinching the skin between teeth, leaving behind dark bruises. Bucky leans his head back and barely holds back a loud moan when Steve sucks especially hard on the skin over a collarbone.
“Don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear you,” Steve whispers into his skin and moves his head to suck a bruise into another patch of skin. Bucky does as Steve told him to and doesn’t suppress the next moan. He is surprised by how loud it sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment.
Steve chuckles against his skin and presses a trail of kisses from his neck over his throat and jaw to his mouth. Bucky lets his bottom lip be trapped between teeth and tries again to roll his hips into Steve’s. Like before, Bucky’s hips are gripped tight and stopped in their attempt to move.
“No,” Steve growls, still holding Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth. Bucky whimpers brokenly.
The hands on his hips slowly lose their grip and one moves to cup the side of Bucky’s neck, the other leaves his body completely. Bucky makes a needy sound, he wants, needs, both hands on his body. Steve shushes him gently and moves his mouth to the other side of Bucky’s neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his skin.
Then the hand is back, slick fingers finding their way between his cheeks, applying pressure against his hole, but not pressing in. Bucky moans again, a sound coming from deep in his throat and he pulls on Steve’s hair to get his mouth back on his own. This time it’s Bucky controlling the kiss, tongue pushing into Steve’s mouth.
Two fingers trace his hole and he forces himself to relax. One finger slowly presses against it and Bucky relaxes himself further so that the finger can slip past the tight ring of muscle and sink in until the first knuckle. Bucky breaks the kiss to take a deep breath. It has been a while since they had sex or he used a toy. The burn is slightly stronger than in the past, his body getting used to being breached again.
Steve stills his hand and presses supporting kisses to Bucky’s throat and shoulder while he lets him get used to the stretch. When Bucky nods, Steve presses the finger in further to the second knuckle and stops once again to let Bucky take a breath and relax. | cf599e90d6de499e950f0d1523d7f07b | ['3371c528ca3b44ba8d166ba3cd40d0b0'] |
The one where Steve gets his period
**Author's Note:**
> This oneshot is part of an ongoing series, where I will add stuff whenever I have the time and ideas to write something. No regular update schedule, really just whenever I have the time.
>
> Technically this is not beta'd (I beta'd it myself, does that count?), so all mistakes are mine.
>
> Hope you enjoy!
"Who hurt you, baby? I'll kill them!" Bucky comes barging into the bathroom, startling an annoyed looking Steve, who is sitting on the toilet, a small green square package in his hand.
"What?" he asks Bucky while trying to push the bloody panties on the floor aside with his foot, hiding them from his Alpha.
"Blood. I smell blood. Yours. Who hurt you?" Bucky says, sounding very protective, and sniffs the air. He lets out a low growl before stalking towards Steve. The determination to find out who hurt his Omega and how bad is visible on his face.
"Nobody, Buck!" Steve answers, cheeks going pink with embarrassment, and leans away from Bucky until his shoulders hit the wall behind the toilet.
"Then why do I smell blood?" Bucky grabs Steve's face in his hands and turns it to the left and right and then lifts it, checking for injuries. He pets down Steve’s sides, over his ribs, chest and stomach and growls deep in his throat when he doesn’t find anything.
Steve just about can stop him from lifting the oversized shirt that covers his crotch and reaches until mid-thigh. Instead he holds up the green package in his hands.
"Oh," Bucky says. His scent changes from protective to embarrassed and he steps away from Steve, who is still leaning back on the toilet.
"Yeah. Oh." Steve chuckles and lifts an eyebrow, amused by his Alpha.
"Please warn me next time you get your period, so I don’t do… stuff like this. I’m sorry," Bucky says and takes a few more steps back towards the door. "I'll… leave you now. I can make you a tea. Do you want a tea? Or a heating pad? I can make you pancakes. With strawberries? Or… we also have plums? If you prefer those?"
"I'm okay, Buck. I'll tell you when I need something," Steve says and smiles fondly at his flustered Alpha. "Although cuddles would be nice."
"You'll get all the cuddles you want, I promise. I'll be waiting in the living room, okay? Take your time." Bucky steps out of the bathroom, throwing back one last half bewildered, half fond look and closes the door.
Steve chuckles and gets back to putting the pad into a fresh pair of panties lying next to him on top of the washing machine. He continues sitting on the toilet for a moment, thinking about his caring Alpha and smiles at the prospect of being cuddled by Bucky.
He stands up and pulls the panties up his legs. After flushing the toilet and closing the lid he steps to the sink and washes his hands. He picks up the bloodied panties from the floor and drops them in the laundry basket.
When he gets into the living room, he stops and stands there in shock, which quickly turns into adoration. Bucky managed to compile a nest out of all their blankets and pillows on their huge couch since he left the bathroom. It’s not the biggest nest Steve has had but even the fact that Bucky thought of making him one makes his heart swell with love for his Alpha. His Alpha, who is half sitting, half lying in the middle of the nest, only wearing a pair of underwear. Bucky knows his Omega wants as much skin contact as possible while on his period and he would never deny his Omega anything.
As soon as Bucky sees Steve, he opens his arms and Steve takes the last few steps towards the couch and dives right in. He makes himself as small as possible and tucks his head under Bucky's chin, nose right next to his scent gland. He breathes his Alpha's scent in, the smell of dark chocolate and mint floating into his body and making him drowsy. The warmth of Bucky’s skin is seeping through Steve’s thin shirt, making him try to cuddle even closer to the comfortable and calming body.
Bucky strokes his right hand over Steve's hair and rumbles deep in his throat, very content with his beautiful Omega in his arms. His left arm curls around Steve's small waist and the metal fingers stroke his Omega's lower back. Steve sighs and closes his eyes, relishing the scent of Bucky.
"Can we stay like this?" Steve sleepily asks and burrows further into Bucky's warm embrace.
"We can. You can nap now, I'll watch over you," Bucky whispers and presses a kiss on top of Steve's head. He then rests his cheek where he placed the kiss and closes his eyes. "Sleep. I'll take care of you. Till the end of the line."
"Till the end of the line, Buck," Steve mumbles and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Bucky's scent gland on his neck.
***
Steve wakes up to the smell of fresh-baked pancakes. He smiles and cuddles deeper into the comfortable warmth. He frowns. The comfortable warmth smells like his Alpha, but it is not his Alpha. Steve instantly misses the feeling of warm skin, he misses the feeling of Bucky’s chest moving underneath his head each time he takes a breath.
There’s a sound to his left, an almost quiet padding of naked feet on the floor and then a small clanking sound. The smell of fresh pancakes is now stronger. A hand cradles Steve’s face and he turns his head into the warm and comforting skin.
“You awake, baby?” Bucky asks and gently strokes through Steve’s hair with his metal hand, the other one still holding his face. |
8d30f3a270ec48d482684c33135b9ec9 | ['338a30a849064cf4b672db93dfceff07'] | As they drove further into the compound, she saw the manly truck’s and motorcycles that scattered the yard. Jirak’s balls, it was as though all of the clans had gathered there, which meant only one thing. Something huge was going on.
Doll parked the truck up close to the entrance of the building, to the untrained eye it would appear to merely be a stingy bar built in a rundown warehouse. But she knew different, the building itself wasn’t used for much, but it was what they had built underneath that mattered, the place was big enough to be its own city, old structures connected together beneath the modern world. And the best part, the magic fed’s couldn’t touch them. They had tried, but oh the backlash country wide just made it not worth their time.
It took them only a moment to all get out of the car and lock it up, although Mel did struggle more then she usually did, but she merely waved Dejah’s concerns off and ordered her further down into the facility, pushing through the old bar with ease until the reached the elevator on the far wall, the three women facing a familiar face to them all, a Brezzik huntress sat guarding it, she looked them over briefly before nodding and waving her hand gently, the elevator door opening as she did so.
The three women stepped in, one ether side of Dejah. Doll pulled the lever down low until it made a deafening clunk, the door’s shutting promptly as the elevator immediately started its descent. The descent however was at such great speed that Dejah actually felt her feet leave the ground, turning, she clung to Mel tightly, the other woman instinctively placed her arm around Dejah, holding her steady as they plunged into the inky blackness.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In all honesty, Dejah had lost count of how many levels they plummeted past, she only knew that it was far too many to be naturally built beneath the city. But then again, nothing about this place was natural. She sighed with deep content as she felt the elevator slow to a stop, she peered up to Mel, who unsurprisingly didn’t look phased at all. The same however, could not be said for Doll, who’s neon pink hair was now scruffed up, stray hairs flying everywhere, the hair on her tail and hooves not faring much better.
After giving Doll a moment to fix herself up, the women set down the long, dark and winding hallway with light refracting from an unknown place far within the halls. They travelled in silence for what seems like years, the only noise that could be heard were the sounds of their footsteps, Mel heels and Doll’s hooves clicking loudly as they walked. As they kept walking, Dejah could feel it. The drum’s, rumbling deep in the earth like a primal call.
Dejah couldn’t stop herself from snarling, the closer they got to the drums the more on edge she felt, hell even her pupils contracted so much that they looked like pin pricks. She felt like a predator… And she loved it. Her eyes darted about as she scanned the hallways, runes carved into the walls all around them as the light got brighter, emanating from a room further down the hall.
Dejah snarled instinctively as she felt a hand slam onto her chest “You go on ahead” Mel said, nodding to Doll, who returned the gesture before turning to Dejah, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her arm before walking off down the hallway and disappearing into the room.
Mel turned to Dejah, clasping both the young orcs shoulders and forcing their eyes to meet “Kitten, the shit that’s gonna go down in her….. It’s some old school magical shit.” Mel sighed, bumping her forehead against Dejah’s “I know… I know I trained you up for this since you were this height-” she brought her hand down under her boob with a soft smile, making both women laugh slightly “And I know there’s gonna be some big players in there….. But if you feel at all scared or nervous, just say so. Say the word kitten and I will pull you outta this, ok?” Mel assured, a hint of a growl in the back of her throat. Dejah smiled at her mother, nodding solemnly. She knew Mel could take down just about anything that moved, including her fellow hunters, that’s why they were afraid of her. After a few moments Mel released her and the two walked down towards the room, the bright light enveloping them both.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dejah gasped briefly as she looked around her. The room was packed to the brim with hunters, from all the different clans, some she knew and some she didn’t. The satyrs and fauns took up most of the left-hand side, they had it packed from the front to the back, some even sat on each other’s laps. Dejah snorted and shook her head at the faun’s antics, there would probably be some pairs fucking before the meeting ended.
Turning to the right, she noted a few members of the giants clan where taking up a lot of space, a few of them muttering to some members from the mismatch of clan members next to them, some where brezziks, From their scent she guessed the others were merpeople, they definitely wouldn’t be human. The human clans wouldn’t show their faces here even if they were asked to. | b066fb1df9114200ab3c21206c862458 | ['338a30a849064cf4b672db93dfceff07'] | And then there was the row directly in front of her, almost entirely populated by Ogre’s, a few cross breeds where scattered in between them. But most where the pure breeds, glowering right at her as their golden eyes searched her for any trace of weakness, a few of them snorting and baring their tusks at her. ‘Yeah yeah, I know I’m a no-tooth, I got the freaking memo’ She snarled to herself as she walked into the centre of the room, she was aware of Mel’s presence behind her the entire time. She just had to remind herself she would be safe.
The room hushed however as she reached the centre, a pillar of light spilling down upon her from the ceiling for a brief moment before a shadow descended down from above, the clear outline of wings and a tail came barrelling down from above, stopping just a few feet above Dejah head, the sudden stop sent a gust of wind down upon the young girl as the being above her came down to land.
Dejah coughed and spluttered for a moment as she cleared the dust out of her nose. Fuck, she hated when the clan leader did this. Wiping her eyes and looking up with a glare she saw the leader standing in front of her, looking down on her blankly. “Marble” Came Mel’s voice barked from behind her, the gargoyles ear twitching as she peered over Dejahs shoulder “Melanie” Marble purred in a disinterested tone before turning her attention back to Dejah “Brothers and sisters… We stand here today, to seal this child into our clan” Marble drolled out as she began to circle Dejah “It has been determined that this child has killed for us…. She’d blood with us… Took part in the hunt with us……” Marble paused, looking around the room for any objections. Of which there where none “Do you have the vessel?” Marble paused, there was a clicking of heels as Mel strutted forward and placed a massive tooth in the gargoyles hand. Dejah winced at the sight, instinctively bringing her hand up to rub her side where the tooth had been extracted from.
“Young lady…. Bring forth your stone” Marble said regally as she waited for the young girl to follow her orders. Dejah let out a shaky breath as she turned to face Mel briefly, who gave the girl a nod. On command Dejah brought her right arm up in front of Marble, pulling her jacket up to reveal a sting of dark dots around her wrist, with one dot filled in bright blue, contrasting against Dejah’s own pale blue skin. Marble hummed for a moment before reaching down and pulling at the skin where the dots where, it only took a moment for the dots to start pulling off of her skin, with them now appearing more like beads then tattooed circles. Dejah hissed and ground her teeth through the entire experience, her eyes never leaving Marbles as the gargoyle pulled the beads off, an audible pop being heard as the blue on finally came out, much to Dejah’s relief.
Marble looked the beads over for a moment “A turquoise? Interesting” Was all Marble said as she twirled them about in her hand. “Let’s get this over with Marble” Mel hissed from her side, gently rubbing Dejah’s shoulders to try and soothe her, Marble however simply glanced them over before turning and walking a few paces away, holding the tooth and the crystals up high for all to see, earning a chorus of yell’s from her fellow hunters. “Dejah, you have been a child of this clan most of you life…. But you are also the first orc to become a hunter in well over 200 years…” Marble stated before turning to face Dejah “Do you understand the risks that we ask of you? Do you understand the responsibilities you will have?” Marbles voice echoed all around them “I do!” Dejah cried, nerves clearly sounding in her voice. “Will you pledge yourself to your brothers and sisters in the hunt? Will you fight that which those cannot? Will you protect those who are weak and fearful?” Marble all but snarled as she stalked towards Dejah and Mel “I will” Dejah roared at the top of her lungs as she bared her non-existent tusks. This was all the cue Marble needed, as the older woman reached down and ripped out the viens on Dejah’s wrist with her teeth, bringing a scream from the younger woman. But the gargoyle wasn’t done as she did the same to Mel’s wrist and then to her own, placing the three down onto the tooth and smearing it in their blood before slamming Dejah’s stone down upon it causing a flash of blue light to consume the room for a few moments, causing Dejah to shield her eyes as the room erupted in cheers from the other hunters.
As the light died down Dejah peered between her bloodied fingers to see Marble holding the tooth, now with her crystal set into it and the beads hanging down low. Pulling her hand’s away she allowed the elder to place the amulet around her neck for the very first time. Dejah couldn’t help but grin as she saw Marble smile down at her “Welcome to the clan little one” She purred briefly before streams of pink surrounded the three women’s injured wrists, Dejah barely had time to look around before she was scooped up and twirled around by Doll who was squealing wildly.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++ |
a9860e41c660457ea6a72bdc506d33db | ['339ec3b534db400f9a4af882d98ea2c5'] | “It’s important. It’s for a case.” Sherlock stopped walking and turned to give her an earnest stare - hopeful, eyes widened innocently - which John personally thought was overkill.
It seemed to work on Molly, though. She crumbled under the weight of it. “Right. Yes, of course.”
As they set off walking again, John watched her scurry into the relative safety of the office over his shoulder with resignation. Sherlock didn’t even need the information very badly, or he would have fetched it himself. “She does have an actual job, you know, other than running around after you,” he remarked half-heartedly.
“Then why is she so keen on _running around_ after me, as you put it?”
“Because she likes you.” Was Sherlock really so oblivious? _He’s not like that_ , John remembered Mike saying. But Sherlock was only human. And he was meant to be observant.
“Does she?” the man replied vaguely.
“Yes.” John paused, and decided to take the opportunity to investigate and satisfy his curiosity. “You’re not interested, then.”
“Well spotted.”
“Already got a girlfriend?”
Sherlock snorted incredulously. “No. Girls aren’t really my area.”
“Oh.” _Oh._ Of course, the hair, the clothes. The pieces slotted themselves together. “I see. Have you got a boyfriend, then? Which is fine, by the way,” John added, as Sherlock looked up sharply, coming to a dead stop.
“I know it’s fine,” he snapped.
The defensiveness was as good as a confirmation. “So you do have a boyfriend.”
“No.” Sherlock continued to watch John, his eyes accusing and wary, as if expecting him to make some sort of comment. It felt like a stand-off, and John was very much aware that he’d strayed into poor conversational territory.
“So you’re unattached, like me,” John said calmly, picking an nice, neutral word. “That’s good. Fine.”
They started walking again, and there was a pause in which John thought he’d succeeded in ending the conversation. Then -
“John,” Sherlock started slowly, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He didn’t meet John’s eyes. “You should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest, I think you may have misinterpreted what we’re doing here -”
“No,” John said, alarmed, waving the hand that wasn’t gripping his cane to emphasis the point. Was the man’s ego really that great? “No, I wasn’t suggesting - I’m just saying, it’s all _fine_.”
Sherlock watched him suspiciously for a moment as if trying to decide if John meant what he said. Then he nodded stiffly. “Good. Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “For your help earlier, too. It was… invaluable.”
John allowed himself a satisfied little grin. Thanks from Sherlock Holmes, he’d learned, did not come easily. Especially when there wasn’t a snide insult attached. “You should bring me your other cases, too, the non-criminal ones,” he suggested lightly. “That private one you keep talking about, maybe. I could help.”
Sherlock smiled faintly, recovered from his gratitude. “I’m not sure it’s the sort of case you’d be interested in. Less murder, more research.”
John shrugged to cover a vague sense of disappointment. “Well. Not everything can be gruesome.”
“Mmm, more’s the pity."
* * *
The next day was a Saturday, and with most Ministry workers taking their weekend off without hesitation, the slowest working day in the archives. John’s usual habit was to go in anyway, and help Molly finish all the odd jobs from earlier in the week, more out of boredom than anything else. This week, however, he gave himself the morning off with the intention of using it to restock the cupboards; he needed more Dreamless Sleep, and with the best will in the world, man could not live on biscuits and beans on toast alone.
John generally preferred to shop Muggle, and the Saturday crowd in Diagon Alley reminded him why. No one could possibly worry that the wizarding population was dwindling when surrounded by this many people. There were queues for every single stall, and it took him several minutes to squeeze through the throng of people in the apothecary to reach the shelf he needed.
He was beaten to the last bottle of Dreamless Sleep by a smartly-dressed witch whose heels gave her a couple of inches on him, snatching it off the shelf just seconds before he got there. The witch turned to give him a triumphant look, and then did a double take, obviously catching sight of his cane. “Oh,” she said, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry.”
John turned to leave. There were other places he could buy a potion if he needed to. “Don’t worry about it.”
She pressed the potion into his hand. “Here. You have it.”
John knew she was trying to be nice, to be polite, but he had to press his lips together into a thin line in order to keep himself from saying something rude. “That’s really not -”
“I insist. Please.”
He sighed, worked his jaw, and then dug for some gratitude somewhere. “Thank you.”
The witch gave him an uncomfortable smile, nodded, and hurried away to the shelves of ingredients, no doubt planning to brew her own instead. John looked at the potion in his hand and tried to ignore the feeling of embarrassment that it conjured up. It was alright for a person to do something nice for someone else, he reminded himself. It wasn’t her fault that it made him feel like a child. | 1e77553473fd415f92e1a7a41e61ec64 | ['339ec3b534db400f9a4af882d98ea2c5'] | “Exactly. Muggle, but good quality judging by the look of it. The expense says it must’ve come from a close family member; could’ve been a cousin, I suppose, but if you’re short on funds it’s unlikely you’ve got extended family that you’re close to. Sibling, then, and a Muggle one at that. A gift like this suggests they care about you and wanted you to remember them, which begs the question, why aren’t they helping you out, putting you up or lending you money? Could be that you don’t like Muggle things, but you’re almost certainly Muggleborn and you’re wearing the watch, so that’s not it. The only explanation is that you don’t get on with them.
“But if you don’t get on, then you can’t be wearing it out of sentiment, which means it serves a function. Wizards don’t need Muggle watches unless they can’t cast a Tempus Charm, and wizards who can’t cast simple spells like that would never be accepted onto the Hit Wizard training programme, which means the need for a watch is a recent development. Most likely whatever curse crippled you also affected your magical ability, hence you jumped at a job which didn’t involve spellwork, even though it’s below you. There you go, you see.” He gave John a smug look. “You were right.”
“ _I_ was right?” John asked faintly. “Right about what?”
“Aurors don’t consult amateurs.”
There should be something invasive and embarrassing about it, about the way he’d just been pulled apart and analysed like some sort of literary character study, and John should want to say something sharp and rude to get his own back. But next to the usual discomfort John felt whenever he was reminded about his limp or his magic, there was also awe to help soften it. And Sherlock had said it all in such a matter-of-fact way, with no judgement or pity - just pure genius, and not in the everyday blasé sense of the word, either. John knew the difference.
He shook his head in disbelief. “That - that was amazing.”
Sherlock blinked back at him. “You think so?” he asked cautiously.
“Of course I do. It was extraordinary.”
“That’s not what people normally say.”
John suspected people rarely got a word in edgeways to be able to say anything. “Why, what do people normally say?”
Sherlock’s lip quirked. “‘Piss off’.”
John grinned back at him. “Yeah, that too.”
For a moment, the camaraderie between them reminded John of his old team, the back-and-forth and the dark humour and that feeling of _once more into the breach_. Then Sherlock blinked and looked away, and the illusion vanished.
“Of course, most people are morons,” Sherlock said archly, his expression back to disdain.
“I can see why you’d think that.”
A flash of purple caught John’s eye and then the sixth interdepartmental memo was flapping about their heads, batting repeatedly against each of their faces in turn like an overenthusiastic puppy. Evidently the things were charmed to annoy a person into reading them.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and snatched the thing out of the air, ignoring the way it quivered in his hands until he unfolded it. As he read, a scowl dug itself deeper and deeper into his forehead.
“For Salazar’s sake, they’re all _idiots_ ,” Sherlock said, waving his hands emphatically in the air. “I have to go.”
“The Auror Office again? Is it a murder?” John snorted.
“Yes, actually.” Sherlock leapt to his feet, slamming the book closed with a thud and making John jump. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “The blithering morons will have moved everything by the time I get there, couldn’t use a bit of common sense even if someone Imperiused them into it -”
“Wait, there really is a murder?” John pressed himself back against one of the shelves to avoid being hit in the face by a book Sherlock had banished. “You’re going to a crime scene?”
“No, I’m going for a drink in the Leaky with the Minister - yes, of _course_ it’s a murder,” Sherlock snapped. He brandished his wand a couple more times and John swore the desk vanished of its own accord this time, just an instant before the _Evanesco_ , in its haste to avoid the man’s ire.
“Right. Okay.” John watched Sherlock fold up the piece of parchment he’d been filling and tuck it inside the pocket of his jacket. “You know, I should stop you taking that.”
“Luckily for me, you won’t. I don’t have time to argue.” Sherlock had his coat on then, the same one which had appeared so inexplicably last time, and a scarf too.
Apparently he was incapable of ending a conversation like a normal person, and had to disappear in a rush with the tails of his coat swirling dramatically round him as he strode away.
John hurried to follow. “Where exactly are you going?”
Sherlock cast a Tempus Charm, one which was accurate down to a hundredth of a second, like a Muggle stopwatch. “I’m going to miss Torture Methods changing,” he said, setting off decisively in that direction, so fast that John had to jog to catch up, which was murder on his injured leg.
He caught up to the man’s elbow. A plaque to their right snagged John’s attention. “Sherlock -”
“In a hurry, John.”
“No, wait - this one, here -”
John grabbed the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat and dragged him round the corner of the nearest bookshelf, into what he recognised as the Non-fatal Magical Illnesses aisle. The aisle was afflicted with its very own case of incurable hiccups - every so often it blinked into existence somewhere random, staying for little more than a minute before re-establishing itself back near the main archives office every time. |
75489fd9d28c4975b579033983e1c20e | ['33a0a7bba00543cda4a02b082dde8d88'] | "We won't need to help them." Stan said. They all looked at him questioningly. He sipped his cocktail. "Look, they've had crushes on each other since, like, middle school, right? And clearly they haven't gone away. They won't talk to each other about it and they won't talk to us or anyone else. That many years of denial and repressing that shit is only building up, and soon they simply won't be able to hold it in any longer." He took another sip, before finishing matter-of-factly: "They'll explode."
The others stared at him.
"I dunno..." Ben started. "They've been holding their feelings in for that long, what makes you think it'll all come out now?"
"Yeah, what's to s-say they won't be h-h-holding their feelings in f-forever?"
"They're incredibly hormonal teenagers." Stan answered, again matter-of-factly.
"They're also incredibly stupid." Bev said. "Stupidity is a strong emotion, and it makes denial and repression stronger."
"Stupidity's not an emotion, Bev." Mike laughed. Bev flicked the air at him, annoyance and lack of giving-a-fuck clear on her face.
"Maybe, but stupidity mixed with hormones and alcohol..." Stan said. "Trust me, they'll be all over each other, even more so-" He paused as they watched Eddie try to leave, but Richie tugged the boy back, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close, "by the end of this party."
"And if they're not?" Bev's response was a little too immediate.
"Then you can help them get together." Stan said without pause. "Even I'll be frustrated beyond belief if that happens."
* * *
Whether Eddie was actually voluntarily following Richie around, or Richie was just dragging Eddie along with him everywhere he went, nobody could tell. They were just always together. Even when...
"Well, well. Look where we are, Eds." Richie's voice was soft, quiet. Eddie looked up just as the taller boy looked down at him and saw it - mistletoe. One of the forgotten ones from five days ago. Eddie's heart started beating faster and he moved his eyes to meet Richie's.
"It's tradition, Eds. Gotta do it."
Eddie couldn't even chastize Richie for the nickname, or for the fact that it wasn't even technically Christmas anymore (not that Richie would have listened to him anyway). All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss the boy standing in front of him. Little did he know, that's all their five other friends wanted too, as they watched the two boys from a corner of the room. He leaned up, angling his head towards his friend's. He was going to do it. This was really happening...
And holy fuck, this was really happening. He was about to kiss his best friend, the guy he'd had a crush on for eight fucking years, his friend who was probably only here and doing this because he was drunk and it was "tradition" as Richie had so bluntly put it, and this was probably a big mistake and would probably fuck everything up between them.
In short, this couldn't be happening.
Eddie started to panic but before he could force his body to move, to turn and run away, Richie moved forward and gently, so softly, pressed his lips to Eddie's.
It was over too quickly, Richie pulled away in surprise as Eddie stumbled backwards in shock and panic, the adrenaline flooding through him, and it was when he saw the hurt and just plain confusion on the taller boy's face that he turned on his heel and bolted.
Across the room, unnoticed by anyone, their group of friends groaned in frustration, and Bev swore.
"Can I help them now?" She asked, looking to Stan.
"Not yet." Stan said, though he looked almost as annoyed as she did and like he very much wanted to say yes to her. "They've still got until the end of the party."
Beverly pouted in response.
Eddie, meanwhile, was in his own turmoil. He was currently taking up residence in one of the bathrooms upstairs, and he had ignored the first and second times someone had knocked at the door. When the third knock came, however, accompanied by some shouting to "get the fuck out", Eddie had merely responded with a loud and slighjtly slurred, "fuck off" of his own, which the person had apparently done because there was no more knocking after that.
He had snuck back downstairs for another drink because what-the-fuck-else was he going to do right now?? Luckily he managed to avoid all of his friends, especially the tall Trashmouth. He was back upstairs almost 30 seconds later, cup in hand, drink in mouth, but found his bathroom was now taken. Who the fuck had been keeping an eye so closely on his space that they were that quick to take it, and also, how dare they? He chugged the rest of drink. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. The drink gave him confidence, and too much confidence to worry about how much confidence he had just acquired or what the consequences of said confidence might be.
When he got back downstairs, he found Richie standing alone, in a corner. There wasn't any mistletoe anywhere near them, but fuck it. Eddie didn't need mistletoe. He could do this shit without it. Easy-peasy. Easy as pie. No more thinking about it, the time was for action.
Eddie nodded to himself, and then nodded some more. He had to do this, he wanted, needed to do this. He found himself marching up to Richie too soon, legs likely ready before his brain was. | 3041ce0e40334283941c1cc686933ced | ['33a0a7bba00543cda4a02b082dde8d88'] | This cuts to a clip of Bill swimming around in the water and, feeling triumphant, decides to yell out "I'm the k-k-king of the world!" Unfortunately for him (but fortunate for everyone else), something sinister is floating by and it almost gets him but Bill manages to push it away by splashing ferociously and screaming "w-w-what the f-fuck is that, g-g-get it away from me!" at the top of his lungs. News flash, Billy-boy, it's just a piece of plastic, and Richie lets him know this (also at the top of his lungs), while charging into the water screaming "don't worry Billy, I'll protect you!" as everybody else dissolves into cacophonies of laughter. "Your president, everybody" Beverly says to the camera, even though the clip doesn't make it to the final cut.
"He should be helpful" - the next clip is of Bill helping his younger brother Georgie do his homework, then Richie is once again saying to the camera, "Bill Denbrough everybody, the most helpful son-of-a-bitch you've ever met"; "goddammit, Richie-!" Eddie cuts in before Stan is yelling, "CUT!" and Ben is chastising them, "not in front of Georgie, you guys!"
"He should be loyal" - this was a clip of Bill standing up to some bullies after they take Richie's glasses, which was later cut for good reason, when Richie says, "that is one loyal s.o.b.-" "Richie, shut up!!" Eddie, of course, is the one to whack him on the arm when saying this, a little too loudly because the bullies then notice them: "hey, are they filming this?" "oh fuck," Bev is exclaiming, and then both groups of kids are shouting at the same time, "get 'em!"
"...But also smart enough to know when to step away" - cue a very-blurry continuation of last clip where they are running away from said bullies, after the losers have all jumped them and taken Richie's glasses back; as they are running, Bill notices that Richie is, of COURSE, still holding the camera up, at which point he asks, "Richie, are you s-STILL filming this??" and Richie responds, "The people need to see this, Bill, smarts are a real crowd-pleaser!"
"He should be intelligent" - this is a clip of Bill holding a large cup of water, after deciding to be the designated driver at a party, being smart and determined enough to not drink; "Richie, we c-can't show that at school!" he exasperatedly tells a very drunk Richie, who thought this clip would be a good idea. This clip, for obvious reasons, is never shown.
"He should be determined" - in the clip where Bill is trying to learn how to wrap a wound, Richie can be heard exclaiming, "one determined son-of-a-!" he gets cut off, however, as the camera is wrestled from him, though his muffled exclamations can still be heard continuing in the background.
In the next clip, the camera is being held by someone else who is also doing the narrating, and Richie is being contained/restrained.
"And finally, a good leader" - the clip is of Bill suggesting they all go to his house for a movie that day after school, and Richie says to the camera, "the best leader with a stutter anyone could ask for."
"Richie, no, just stick to the script." Stan says with a roll of his eyes, to which Richie responds dramatically, "fuck the script, fuck the system!"
By now, of course, Eddie has had enough and is ready to just finish up and go home. "Richie, you gigantic fuckwad-"
Of course, now is exactly when one of their teachers decides to walk by, "Hey, language, Kaspbrak."
After the teacher leaves, Richie turns to Eddie with a smug look from not getting caught on his face, and repeats, "Yeah, language, Kaspbrak."
Eddie, entirely fed up now, flips him off, first with one hand, then the other, and it continues, again and again (it almost looks like a little dance) accompanied each time with "you know what, fuck you, fuck your mother-", and in between laughs (because it's just so cute) - Richie can be heard saying, "oh, I already did that, Eds."
Eddie stops, "Wait, what, are you saying my mom or yours-no, you know what, WHY is this even a discussion, jesuschrist Richie, what is it with you and the mom thing-?!" He sounds almost hysterical at this point, like Richie's one mission to drive him insane is just starting to work.
"Yeah, Rich," Bev interjects with a grin, "do you have a mommy kink?"
Richie just grins bigger; "Only for Eddie-spaghetti's mom" he replies with a wink, while Eddie, looking disturbed, raises his voice and then bursts out at the same time, "What the fuck, Bev??"
In what is turning out to be a severely unfortunate series of events for Eddie Kaspbrak, their school principal is the one to walk around the corner now, and says very strictly "Kaspbrak! Language!"
As the principal is leaving without so much as a word to Richie, Eddie, exasperated and incredibly frustrated, says "is he fucking kidding??" pointing at the retreating authority figure.
Richie cuts in "geez, Eds, do you kiss your mom with that mouth?"
"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Trashmouth" and scuffling is heard, but before it can escalate (any further than it already has, anyway), the principal is coming back around the corner and "okay, Mr. Kaspbrak, that's detention," is heard.
Then, as Eddie is pulled away from Richie by Bill and Mike (bless them), he notices the camera is STILL pointing at them. "WHY are you STILL filming??" he almost yells, and Beverly, never one to give two fucks, simply responds, "Are you kidding, this is gold." and Eddie hits Bill when he starts to laugh.
**Author's Note:**
> If you made it to this here note, I hope you enjoyed the story! :) Please let me know if there are any mistakes you may have noticed so I can fix them. Also, reviews are my reason for living. <3
>
> Also, to my dear bestie, I know you wanted the "do you have a mommy kink?" "no, but I have a daddy one" line in there, but it just flowed better this way. I hope you still love it.
> mylord-mrclarke.tumblr.com, if you're interested |
6945a3dff62c48f3803312df665d8312 | ['33c4214c5a704e96b5205d698d5c3ddc'] | Steve arches an eyebrow. "Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I am not going to die during this race. They have to say that so they don't get sued, but has anyone ever died during the race? No, and I'm not going to be the first."
"Oh, that's right," says Danny, tapping his forehead, "I forgot you're not from around here. What's your home planet called again? Krypton?"
"That's very funny. Now please stop talking."
"I mean, you can probably just cut through barbed wire with the lasers in your eyes!"
"I have work to do and you are preventing me from doing it."
"And you could yank the tree root out of the ground with the power of your mind."
Steve glares at him. " _Danny_."
Danny holds his hands up in mock surrender. "All right, all right. I'll let you read these print-outs, think about it a little. But I can assure you, this is not over."
*****
"...and one year, they made everyone jump into a hole in a frozen lake. One woman got trapped beneath the ice and nearly froze to death. Someone had to leap in and save her."
Steve expels a frustrated breath from his nostrils. "Can we please talk about this later? I'm a little busy, if you hadn't noticed."
"It's just something to think about," says Danny, taking another sip of his iced latte. "Everyone who enters this race should be well informed. Or in therapy."
Steve lets out another breath and adjusts the strap on his shoulder. He's running along the road near his house, wearing weights on his ankles and carrying a backpack loaded with forty pounds of gravel. Danny is driving alongside him in his Camaro with the air conditioner cranked up as high as it will go.
"I mean, if someone hadn't been there, she would have died."
"Well, I know how to swim," says Steve, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. They're on mile six, and even though he hasn't said anything Danny knows he's starting to feel the burn. He purposefully didn't bring any water, knowing the Death Race participants wouldn't be allowed any during the race.
"It's not about swimming, McGarrett. It's about the fact that she was asked to jump into a frozen lake in Vermont in the middle of winter."
"The race takes place in June, Danny."
Danny takes a long sip of his latte and changes the channel on the radio to something he knows Steve will hate. "Did I tell you about the guy last year who passed out in a puddle of his own vomit and wasn't discovered for--"
"Okay, stop," says Steve, turning to face him, and Danny has to slam on his brakes to keep from gliding past him. "You have got to stop with these stories."
"Goddammit, my coffee--"
"Every single day this week, you have come to me with a new story about someone who has nearly died during this race. You have _got_ to stop. You are officially the worst cheerleader ever."
"That's because I'm not trying to be a cheerleader," says Danny, using fast food napkins to dab at his tie. "I'm trying to get you to see how insane this is so you'll drop out of the race. I've got plans in June and they don't involve attending your funeral."
"I am not going to die!" Steve exclaims. "A fifty-three-year-old man finished this race. I am in very good physical condition and have lived through much worse than anything they can throw at me."
Danny looks at him for a long moment before he says, "One year they made the participants handcuff themselves and then retrieve a key from the bottom of a pool using only their teeth."
"They took that straight out of the SEAL training program," Steve says. "I've been trained to do that already."
"That is...disgusting," says Danny. "Why would anyone ever need to know how to do that in real life?"
Steve shrugs. "One time I was taken captive on a mission, and they threw the key to my handcuffs into a swimming pool. If I hadn't been trained for that, I might not have gotten myself free."
"You just made that up, didn't you?" Steve gives him a bemused look and Danny says, "How are you not already dead?"
Steve sighs and adjusts his shoulder strap. "I'm going to keep running now. If you follow, you're not allowed to talk about death."
A moment later, Danny pulls up alongside him again eating a scone. "So one year a man got frostbite on his junk and nearly had to have the whole thing removed..."
*****
In April, Danny brings Grace to headquarters for a visit. Kono gives her a tour of the office, and Chin shows her how the computer table works, and then Danny takes her into Steve's office so he can show her around.
"This is a model of the USS Enterprise," Steve says, pointing to the model of a ship hanging on the wall behind his desk. "That was the ship my father served on when he was in the Navy."
Grace nods dutifully as he shows her all of the model ships in his office, and when he's done she looks up at him with big doe eyes.
"Uh, there's not going to be a test or anything," Steve jokes nervously, crossing his arms over his chest and looking over at Danny for help.
"Uncle Steve," Grace says, and Steve blinks. "Are you going to be in the Death Race?"
Steve glares at Danny, who smiles. "Yes, I am, Grace, but it's for charity. If I finish, my friend is going to give a lot of money to families who need it." | cc25600cc69c4a499754d049ad969f67 | ['33c4214c5a704e96b5205d698d5c3ddc'] | Danny looks down at the floor. "You know, I didn't expect you to feel the same way, Steve. I'm a grown-up, I know how this works, I'm not that naive. But I thought you'd at least have the nuts to say, 'Hey, sorry, Danny, I don't swing that way' instead of giving me the silent treatment. I mean, I thought I'd give you your space, give you some time to process, but it's been four days now, Steve. Four days and you can't even pick up the phone and call your _friend_ , which I guess you've decided I'm not anymore." Danny sighs, exhausted.
"And on top of everything, I've been dealing with a little _situation_ \--" He makes air quotes, even though no one is there to see them. "--if you will. If being stalked by a baby seal counts as a situation, and I think it does. Of course, this is only the latest in long series of fucking _situations_ that I like to call _my life_." More air quotes. "And it's not like I need this, okay? It's not like I need _any_ of this. I'm already dealing with a lot of shit. I don't need you avoiding my calls because you can't deal with _your_ shit, just like I don't need some baby seal who wakes me up in the middle of the night, and steals my car keys, and bitches about my ties, and has terrible taste in music, and--"
Danny drops the phone onto the floor.
*****
Animal control can't give Danny any information on where they took the seal, only that they released it earlier that morning. Danny doesn't press the issue. He drops by Steve's place and finds it exactly how he'd left it four days ago, when he'd stopped by just before Steve was scheduled to leave for the airport. Steve's duffel bag is sitting by the front door, and his keys are on the kitchen counter next to his phone, which is out of battery. There's a half-full mug of coffee next to the sink.
Danny goes back to his apartment and spends the rest of the day on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees, scouring google and wikipedia for every morsel of information he can find. By 9:00, he's got twelve tabs open and forty-seven others bookmarked.
He's in the middle of a really depressing article about an Irish folk legend when the seal slithers under the cat flap.
Danny and the seal just look at one another for a moment before Danny says, "Finally. What'd you do, stop for snacks?"
The seal pauses like he's not sure if Danny's kidding or not but then he worms its way over to the couch. "Come on, buddy, up you go," Danny says, patting the seat next to him. "The smell was never going to come out anyway."
The seal hops up gracelessly, fins flapping.
"So," Danny tells him, angling the screen so he can see it. "I've been reading all of these articles, about seals and mermaids and dead fishermen and shit. Really uplifting stuff, let me tell you, and not the least bit helpful. I was actually hoping you could shed a little light on the situation, but I'm not sure you're really a position to do much explaining."
The seal looks up at him with big grey eyes and barks.
"Ah, yeah, that clears up everything, thank you."
The seal barks again, more insistently this time, and flaps one of his fins.
"What, are we doing sign language now?" Danny says, mimicking his movements. "Interpretive dance? Should we try Morse code?"
The seal sighs and slumps into the couch cushion.
"So what this is all about, seriously?" Danny says, gesturing at him. "Did you already know about this? Did you do it on purpose? Is this your version of a big gay freak out?"
The seal just stares back at him.
"Yeah, whatever," Danny says, turning back to the screen. The seal hobbles closer and flops against Danny's hip, curling up beside him. Danny glances down as the seal nuzzles Danny's hand, whiskers brushing his knuckles. He makes a little sound at the back of his throat, not at all like he's being tortured, and gently licks at Danny's palm. Danny sighs and strokes the seal's forehead with the pad of his thumb.
"I'm telling you right now," he says, turning back to the laptop, "you are not sleeping in my bed while you still smell like raw fish."
The seal rests his head on Danny's thigh and closes his eyes.
*****
Two days later, Danny is sitting in his office when he gets a text message.
_You look happy today. Having Steve back in town wouldn't have anything to do with that, would it?_
Danny glances across the hall at Kono's office, but she's adding sugar to her tea and doesn't look up.
_I guess it's that extra shot of espresso I added to my latte this morning_ , he says.
A minute later, he receives her reply: _Is that what the kids are calling it these days?_
Danny frowns and is about to reply when his phone beeps and another text pops up. But it's not from Kono.
_Finally going through my messages...what's this about a new guy you're seeing?_
Danny rolls his eyes. _he's an idiot, that's what. and he owes me dinner._
A few seconds later: _Speaking of, do you think it's normal to still be craving fish like this? I mean, I want it cooked now but still._
_there is nothing about this situation that I would classify as normal_ , Danny says. _why don't you call dr. murphy? she's the expert, remember?_ He sets his phone back on the desk.
He's halfway into an email to Duke at HPD when his phone beeps again.
_By the way...I'm glad I'm worth all of the sunshine and misery._
Danny's face flushes with embarrassment. _that was before I had to fly a chain-smoking ancient mythology professor in all the way from ireland so she could sit in my living room and bark at you._
_She wasn't barking at me. And it's thanks to her that your apartment doesn't smell like fish anymore._
_yeah, now it smells like cigarette smoke_ , says Danny. _I'm not sure which is worse._
The phone beeps again. _In case you're wondering, you're worth all of the sunshine and misery too._
Danny tries to keep a straight face, but the corners of his mouth are twitching. He hits the reply button and types out his message.
_I'll pick up some tuna on the way home._ |
032409b18671459db8cc0262766b2798 | ['340b472b88694b6c91bd2fe0322bfa9d'] | “For the sake of my family and for all the poor souls whose lives were traded for my existence... I will build a world where such meaningless sacrifice is never again sanctioned. As Emperor, I will change the world, I swear it.”
Those who fight against the Empire claim Edelgard’s actions only harbor causeless suffering. That she has chosen to provoke superfluous bloodshed in the name of expanding the Empire’s claim.
“She is a danger to all of Fódlan. Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating.”
No. Byleth always knew something so trivial would never drive Edelgard to upheaval. But at the time, the Church was being invaded. Edelgard had crashed into the Holy Tomb and pillaged without warning; instinct driving Byleth into defense without the consult of logic. Was it truly without warning? Byleth toiled the pieces of this puzzle as he loomed ever closer to Edelgard’s dwelling.
“Wicked child...The Church of Seiros will raise its entire army against you until you have been captured and punished!”
Is that the mission he intended to accomplish this fated day? Was he to exact revenge for the crippling of the Church, for the capture of Lady Rhea? Back then, others among the Black Eagle house had opposed Edelgard with such ease. Perhaps Byleth found himself swept within the tempest of emanating emotion. He endeavored for some meaningful justification of his actions.
The colossal gateway ahead warned an end to Byleth’s venture. Her army nearly decimated, Edelgard was holed in the throne room beyond. Pursuing those who had chosen to flee occupied much of his allied force. A heavy swallow checked the dry anticipation that had formed as Byleth dared to enter the dwelling unaccompanied.
The extravagance of gold trimmed inlay and velvet carpeting would have proved insurmountable for any other whom was unaccustomed to the lavish of royalty. However, all the imposing grandeur was lost to Byleth whose stare fixated on the figure pedestaled atop the throne. Edelgard took footing upon his arrival and reached to equip Aymr. The devilish axe breathed life at her touch; the blazing eye of the mounted crest stone eager for combat.
The clap of heeled boots meeting marble resounded deafeningly as Edelgard descended to meet Byleth on an even terrain. Her violet eyes never wavered from him; they refused to reveal even the slightest symptom of emotion. Byleth scoured for some falter, any indication that perhaps she could be compelled into surrender. Regrettably, he found not the slightest hesitation as he had that night in the Monastery. Edelgard was steadfast to carry out her mission and would readily die alongside its collapse.
The powers of divinity clashed. Aymr’s crushing blows were barely deflectable with the Creator Sword’s might. While speed and dexterity favored Byleth, each were matched and possibly surpassed by Edelgard’s strength and defense. Any opportunity Byleth found to strike at her flank was met by the impenetrable armor of her shield. The mocking heads of her gold-plated eagle turned the boned vertebrae of his blade aside with ease, leaving Byleth precariously open to counterattacks.
A waver in his dodge was all it took for Byleth to find himself hammered beneath the weight of Edelgard’s malicious weapon. Blade barely returning in time to intercept the fatal blow, Byleth found his legs crumbling as he fought to divert the power of her strike. Aymr’s beastly spines reached for flesh beyond the cover of his sword. Slowly they crept towards him as Edelgard pressed with the intent to impale. Drawing upon adrenaline and the power of his crest, Byleth was able to coax the added strength needed to avert the rush to his right. Edelgard howled in lament as her weapon gave way to only the barren ground.
There! He had seen it as she struggled to free Aymr from the crater it had produced moments before. Undetectable to any but the one who had mentored her five years ago, Edelgard disclosed the tender favoring of her left side. She hadn’t allowed him access before, but the blow had been revealing. Some remnants of her injuries remained. That would be the crippling leverage he needed to gain the upper hand.
Pressure. Retreat. Pressure. Retreat. Byleth relentlessly hounded the crumbling stamina of Edelgard’s left side. Every nick and bash weakened the mighty empress, forcing her to act out of bewilderment. In the end, Edelgard made the profound mistake of focusing all her defense on another presumed assault to her vulnerability. Byleth feigned compliance then delivered a devastating blow to her unattended right. Edelgard’s scream covered the sound of splintering bone as his sword found its mark. She faltered, stumbling away from him. Moments later, Aymr’s light dimmed while clattering to the cold stone; the muscle in Edelgard’s tattered arm was no longer able to support its bulk.
Byleth tensed as he awaited Edelgard’s next move. An appreciated moment to catch his breath was cut short as her remaining hand crept to remove the sword at her side. The blade parted from its scabbard with polished ease. There was a timeless instant of pointed accusation, the twinkling tip aimed warningly at Byleth’s heart. Exhaustion extinguished the threat and Edelgard’s quivering blade was driven downwards for stability as she collapsed to her knees.
“It looks as though... my path... ends here.”
Edelgard panted endlessly between her words and sweat glistened like diamonds across her forehead. The fingers of her right hand graced the dying light of her battle axe. The weight of her wounds finally taking their toll. Shattered bone and internal bleeding rendered Edelgard incapable of continuing the struggle. Byleth found himself wavering to capitalize upon her falter. Perhaps she could still be saved-
“My teacher...claim your victory. Strike me down. You must! Even now... across this land, people are killing each other. If you do not act now, this conflict...will go on forever.” | cc7b537abb544969870bbf37bd247536 | ['340b472b88694b6c91bd2fe0322bfa9d'] |
Eulogy for the Crimson Flower
**Author's Note:**
> I made the mistake of finishing Edelgard's route first and later going back and choosing the neutral divergence. :,)) This is in honor of best girl. I also had to justify Byleth's actions to myself to lessen the pain.
The weight at his chest hung almost as heavy as the Sword of the Creator stationed atop his hip. It was a strange, perplexed feeling that left Byleth in somewhat of an uneasy state.
“You must be prepared to kill Edelgard. There is no other way.”
The droning echo of his lone footsteps, bouncing between the grandeur of the outer Imperial palace, provided no shelter from the harsh reality of Seteth’s words. An uncharacteristic flinch befell Byleth’s face and halted his progression to such a future. A deep breath gave way to a pained sigh. His gaze slowly surrendered in defeat to the long awaited destiny he’d accepted but never truly faced. Moving upon instinct, the tips of his right hand hesitantly traced the cracked texture of his sword’s hilt. The smooth perfection of bone was marred by the unrelenting trials of war.
Byleth remembered now in vivid detail the exchange he last shared with the emperor. She had come; waited for him just as she had promised all those years ago. Moonlight trickled from above the Monastery and painted the scene in a soft white glow. Edelgard turned upon hearing his arrival; bewildered in disbelief beyond the guise of crimson imperial garb and the adornment of a horned headpiece. Time had been kind, maturing her with elegance. Honed regal grace only added to the intimidation of her confidence as she approached him.
“Will you return to the Empire with me?”
Despite the facade, Byleth could distinguish the undertones of disappointment at his hesitation. The way Edelgard’s eyes glistened in an attempt to confirm the reality of his decision. Byleth wounded her, having long ago chosen the road that strayed from her aspirations and ideals. Edelgard knew the answer to her question well before he needed to speak it. A downcast glance signaled as much.
Caught upon her forlorn stare, Byleth realized he could never dream to understand the entirety of their correspondence; to comprehend the undeniable bond that had formed from their time at the academy. Indeed, there was more than simple friendship that intertwined their fates; more than just a student teacher relationship that he had chosen to sever. Even now, Byleth could tell she had stolen some piece of him in the process and it indignantly mourned at depth.
Contemplating or discussing the topic further was futile. Edelgard had drawn her sword and charged, leaving Byleth just enough time to parry the assault. Together, they danced under the stars to a serenade of colliding metal. White reflected off the pristine curves of her sleek blade while the crumbling exterior of his own only acted to distinguish her beauty.
Perhaps by the habits of his new profession, Byleth found himself silently critiquing Edelgard. He focused on the sloppy footwork and half hearted strokes that betrayed the fractures in her sentiment. The labored breaths escaping between her thrusts seemed less sourced from the exertion of battle and more so from the effort it took to suppress some indistinguishable emotion boiling within. With a final swing, each had their harsh blades kissed warningly against the supple of the opposition’s cheek.
There was a moment of calm understanding; eyes locked and exchanging a consensus they both knew to be true. A second reunion was inevitable and when that day came the victor would sate their blade’s thirst with regrettable blood.
To wish such a conclusion would prove false was an understatement for Byleth. He had prayed and pleaded that some alternative would arise; an act of mercy to neutralize the cruelty of his chosen route. Alas, such a fate proved inescapable.
Now Byleth stood at the head of his army. Soldiers bellowed morale and steeled themselves for a final onslaught upon the Empire. Beyond them, amid the depths of the opposing infantry, Edelgard groomed for their advance. Likely still nursing wounds from her previous altercation with Kingdom and Alliance forces, she would undoubtedly act companioned with desperation. Byleth found himself hoping she had not become corrupted by such an influence as he charged onward.
The hacking and slashing of enemy waves that abashed Byleth was hardly noticed. His mind was lost far beyond the commotion of battle. He thought only of her.
Edelgard had shown such promise in the youthful years. Her determination was intoxicating, demanding friend and foe alike to acknowledge her reasoning and question their course of action. Byleth rampaged blindly through his mind, dredging forth even the tiniest memory of her. Rooted doubt was beginning to flourish as he struggled to justify his executioner’s march.
“In order to create a peerless emperor to rule Fódlan, they violated our bodies by cutting open our very flesh. Now here I stand, the fruit of that endeavor: Edelgard von Hresvelg!”
Byleth rattled her words about his skull. He was forcing himself to face the haunts of willingly neglected knowledge. Why had Edelgard offered her past so freely to him? She exposed the secrets of a corrupted Empire. The fractures in an outwardly pristine society were unveiled. Byleth growled then threw his frustration at the misfortuned soldier barring his path.
“Ours weren’t the only lives devastated by that terrible process. Innocents died as well, without even knowing what they were dying for.”
Crests. Their very existence stood as a testament to the Heroes of old who sacrificed much during the War of Heroes. They represent empowerment bestowed by the goddess, intended to create an idealistic land ruled by noble lineages. Why now were they used to fuel atrocity and defilement? Was the goddess to blame for entrusting such power to feeble minds? Or perhaps something more sinister laid within the lore of crests and their allied weaponry. |
e898847e35194aafb92e8eea5e867d63 | ['3422bc097fb241c6a651e371f8d02eca'] | Evening Sun
**Author's Note:**
> So for some reason I thing Evening Sun by The Strokes is a really good Bellarke song, so I decided to write a fic influenced by it. I hope you enjoy.
Approaching the back door to the Griffin house, Bellamy could hear music playing. Knocking gently on the French doors, he decides she’ll never hear him over the music anyway and makes his way inside.
He walks through the kitchen toward the staircase, and is unsurprised to find the house still look’s impeccable- clearly Abby hasn’t allowed the mess of her daughter’s packing to reach the rest of the house. As he begins the journey up the two flights of stairs that lead to her room, he realises he recognises the song playing.
Finally reaching the top floor, he raps on her door twice before gently pushing it open.
_He’d only been to the Griffin house without Octavia twice before: the day they moved in and his mom sent him over with a cake-which he had promptly dropped when an 8 year old Clarke barrelled out of her front door and straight into him; and the day Jake Griffin had died- Octavia had been away and so had sent him a text insisting that Clarke needed someone and, as she couldn’t be there for her, he was the next best thing._
_As he made his way upstairs, he felt jittery- which was ridiculous, he just wanted to know if Clarke was done with the book he had let her borrow on Greek mythology. He was being ridiculous. He was just going to talk to his sister’s best friend about a book she borrowed. That was all._
_As he reached the landing, he heard music coming out of Clarke’s room- some song by The Strokes that he’d heard on the radio once or twice- and figured she must be listening to the radio whilst studying._
_He pushed open the door and opened his mouth to greet her, but he found the words stuck in his throat._
_Clarke was in the middle of her room, half dressed in an oversized band t-shirt, and her eyes were closed as she danced. Her curtains were thrown wide open, and the warm light of the sunset hit her from behind, illuminating her hair. She looked like an angel._
_Still oblivious to his presence, she began singing._
_“You’re the prettiest, smartest captain of the team…” she opened her eyes, and he found himself staring straight into them, “I love you more than being 17.”_
He’s swept up into a feeling of déjà-vu as he enters the room to find Clarke, in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, dancing in the evening sun. However, this time, her eyes are open, and she quickly notices his presence. Smiling, she extends her hand toward him, “Come dance with me.”
He doesn’t hesitate, immediately reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist. They begin to sway, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Leaning her head onto his chest, she closes her eyes.
He bends down, whispering into her hair, “So I hear you’re moving to New York.”
Lifting up her head to look at him, she replies, “I am.”
“Any particular reason?”
She smiles, her eyes soft. “Well, my boyfriend of 5 years finally asked me to move in with him. He’s an ass like 90% of the time, and he’s always starting stupid fights, and God he just won’t stop with the rants about Greek mythology, but I figure, ‘hey- at least he’s cute’.”
Her tone is teasing and he smiles. “I’m sure he appreciates you putting up with him.”
Lifting up onto her toes, she leans forward so that their foreheads are touching, “He better,” and then she’s kissing him, and the echoes of the past blend seamlessly into the present day,
_“In the evening sun…”_
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading. I did actually have some extra ideas for this, but decided to keep it short, however if there's interest I may continue. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> Apologies for any mistakes.
> Find me on LINK | 3ecf175245aa4cb9bda2bbbf7adbbe98 | ['3422bc097fb241c6a651e371f8d02eca'] |
Tender
**Author's Note:**
> This is a very 'cute' fanfic, entirely inspired by Tender by Blur because the song made me think of them (also sort of that scene in Harry Potter where Harry and Hermione end up dancing- I can't remember which movie it was exactly but as I was writing this it came to mind).
Clarke was exhausted, but there wasn’t time to relax yet. Before she could even think about going to sleep she needed to check on the couple of kids in Infirmary, clean up the blood that she hadn’t had time to wipe up after sterilising the cut Jasper had manage to get earlier in the day, and do a quick inventory of their dwindling medical supplies.
Pulling her hair back, she decided if she wanted to get to bed at some point she had probably better get on with it. Fortunately, the two boys in the Infirmary had fallen to sleep- which they desperately needed after collapsing during a hunting trip earlier in the day. The group had had to head back early after their collapse- they hadn’t had success for days now, and no-one was getting enough sleep, so it was really a wonder more people weren’t collapsing. Undoubtedly, she thought, a good sleep would do everyone some good.
Grabbing the bottle of moonshine that was kept in the room, she headed over to clean the blood on the floor, but was disturbed by the door opening. Turning around, she was unsurprised to find Bellamy making his way inside.
“Clarke, it’s the middle of the night.” He looked worried, but she wasn’t ready for another argument about how she was overworking herself.
Returning her gaze to the mess, she poured some moonshine onto a spare piece of cloth and started cleaning.
“Bellamy I really don’t have time right now,” she replied over her shoulder, “I have to finish this, and then there’s still the inventory to do.”
“Clarke…”
She had just gotten the last of the blood up, and turning around she found Bellamy was immediately behind her- offering his hand to help her up. She was annoyed, but so tired she didn’t feel it was worth the effort of rejecting his help. Tiredly, she grasped his hand, pulling herself upright.
“Clarke, I’m sure the supplies will still be here tomorrow. One night off won’t kill anyone.” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, and although she was now stood up, she noticed he hadn’t let go off her hand.
In the back of her mind, she knew he was right, but if anything she was anything, Clarke was stubborn.
“Bellamy, I’m fine.”
Detaching her hand from his, she made her way to the supplies.
“Clarke, I am not leaving here until you agree to take the rest of the night off.” Ignoring the determined tone in his voice, she settled on the floor ready to begin her checks.
Checking off each item as she made her way through the rubble, she noticed Bellamy drop down beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach forward- grabbing at one of the bottles of pills. Extending her arm to slap his hand away, she was caught off guard as he grabbed her arm.
As she had earlier, she attempted to remove her hand from his but he wasn’t quite so agreeable this time. Leaning forward, he looked straight into her eyes- just inches from her face- and she could feel her cheeks flush.
“Clarke, if you don’t come back to the tent now, I will pick you up and carry you there.”
Pursing her lips, she knew he was serious- it had happened before (a mortifying incident that involved him carrying her over his shoulder through the camp before unceremoniously dumping her onto their shared bed) and she didn’t doubt he was more than willing to do it again. Nodding her head slightly, she put down the pills she had in her other hand and manoeuvred her legs out from under her, struggling up with only one free hand.
Once she was on her feet, Bellamy smiled- one of those beaming grins he only displayed on occasion that even now made her heart flutter in her chest. Once on his feet, he tightened his grip on her hand and made his way towards the door, pulling her behind him.
As he dragged her behind, his voice took on a more teasing tone, “Come on Clarke, don’t be such a downer.” She could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “Have a bit of fun for once- you know the world won’t end if you take one night off.”
***
Making her way toward their tent, Clarke noticed that something was a bit, well, off.
“Bell…” she began, glancing around the empty campsite, “where is everyone?”
Turning back to face her again, he smiled, “Like I said earlier, it’s the middle of the night. Which tonight means, it’s time for you-“he paused, stopping abruptly to kiss her nose, “to let your hair down for once.”
With that Bellamy reached behind her, pulling the tie out of her hair. He made sure to tuck it safely into his pocket before leaning down to kiss her- an open mouthed kiss this time, the sweetness of the earlier kiss on her nose lost.
When they eventually pulled away, she looked up at him in confusion. She was about to ask what her meant when he reached for her hand again, laughing as he pulled her toward the main fire which although dwindling was still giving off light.
“Bell, what are you doing?”
As they arrived in front of the fire, he stopped, pulling out of his pocket an old iPod. Confused, Clarke reached forward to see it, but he pulled it out of her reach. She couldn’t help but smile, even as she groaned in frustration. |
05a09b2838204178ab99f6791cafb695 | ['343648bf02004250953ce6d198d28148'] | She doesn’t know how he knows what she’s thinking. Maybe her breathing changes. Maybe she licks her lips one too many times, or swallows too heavily. Maybe her eyes look different, bigger or darker or wider or whatever. She doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. When she finally reaches out and puts a hand on his thigh he doesn’t jump, his muscles don’t startle with surprise. He doesn’t react much at all, even when her hand begins to move. The denim of his jeans is rough against her fingers as she runs them up and down the inside of his thigh. Lightly at first. Harder once she realizes he’s not going to chastise her.
When her palm meets the crotch of his pants he’s still soft, not yet firmed from the attention. Sometimes he gets hard right away and sometimes it takes a while. She hasn’t yet determined if there’s a rhyme or reason to that. She thinks that maybe cocks are just sort of weird. Her cunt is so much easier. More straightforward. When she’s horny it’s wet and when she’s not it’s dry, and when she starts getting horny it gets wet pretty much right away.
Maybe that’s not normal either? Maybe she gets wet too easy. Maybe she’s a slut, the kind of woman her mother would call _ wanton _ and eye derisively. She doesn’t get that. Why is feeling good a bad thing? Isn’t feeling good during sex better than not feeling good during sex? Maybe it isn’t. Maybe she’s different and wrong because of it.
He likes it though. He likes the way it sounds when she’s soaked and he’s pounding into her, the moist slap of his skin to hers, the obscene noise it makes when air gets caught between them. He likes to shove his fingers inside her and collect the wetness and make her lick it off. She doesn’t necessarily like the taste but she doesn’t hate it either, and she _ does _ like the look in his eyes when he watches her suck the cuntslick off his knuckles.
She wonders if he’s got that look in his eyes right now. She wouldn’t be able to see if he does. The shades are too dark. He’s probably not even looking at her. He’s too safe, too practical. He probably hasn’t taken his eyes off the road. He probably hasn’t looked at her once. She squeezes her hand lightly. He’s starting to get hard. She can trace part of the shape of him through his jeans.
She doesn’t ask if this is okay. They don’t really do that. They both just run under the assumption that the other will say _ stop _ if they need to stop. The first night they’d fucked he asked _ are you sure, _ but he hasn’t asked since then. He just does things. Usually she likes those things. Sometimes she doesn’t, but not enough to make him stop. The closest she’s gotten so far is when he put his fingers in her ass. She said, “Wait,” and he waited. He didn’t pull them out but he didn’t move either. He just waited, like she’d asked. She wasn’t sure if she was okay with it. The way it felt having her ass stretched, the burn, the sting. It was weird and uncomfortable. But she also wasn’t sure that she _ wasn’t _ okay with it. It hurt, but sometimes she likes hurts. She had to think about whether or not it was a kind of hurt that she likes. He waited until she decided, and then she said, “Okay,” and he kept going. And after a bit it stopped hurting. And then it stopped feeling uncomfortable. And then it started feeling _ nice. _
She likes that he waited when she asked him to. If she had said _ stop _ she thinks he would have stopped. So, like. There’s that at least.
Another mile passes before he’s hard enough for her to feel the whole length of him against the fabric. Another before she unbuttons the jeans. Pulls down the zipper. He doesn’t seem to approve or disapprove, doesn’t say _ yes _ or _ no _ or turn to face her or push her away. But he does shift backwards into his seat more. Gives the barest tilt of his hips. Reaches out and rests the hand not on the wheel against the shoulder of her own seat, opens the side of his body up to her. Gives her room to move. By now she knows permission when she sees it.
When she pulls his cock out and holds it in her hand it’s firm but not fully filled out. She knows because when she wraps her fingers around it she can can touch the tip of her thumb to one of her knuckles. When he’s completely hard he’s thick enough that her fingers don’t meet. It makes her twat hurt when he fucks her, but it’s okay. That is _ definitely _ a hurt that she likes.
She gives it a tug. Gentle, but with a firm grip. That first night he’d showed her how to hold it, how to turn her wrist at the base and the head. He’d spit down where her fingers made a hole for him to fuck into and snorted a laugh at her yelp of disgust. She likes holding his cock. It’s hard, hot. She likes the size and she likes knowing that she can take it in her cunt. She leans over the middle console of the car to watch the motions that her hand makes. Up, down. Up, down. A little twist that makes the foreskin roll. His hips twitch. It feels heady. Powerful. Power, in her hand. | e3729a97179a42baa1be045722309e2c | ['343648bf02004250953ce6d198d28148'] | A figure watches, in the distance, too far to make out the features but closer now, standing, just watching. He looks from it to the bodies hanging from the tree; when he looks back, the figure is closer, slightly, only just so, still watching, but now he can see long hair, and feathers, so many feathers. They twist and turn, wrapping together to make a noose that closes over his neck, softly, just light enough that he can feel it, and when he takes a step forward his feet lift and then never land, and when he falls it tightens around his throat until he's hanging, too.
\------------------
It takes nearly three days for Pike to talk to Percy about anything beyond simple pleasantries. Three days of Vax waking and leaving the Take to sit outside the Raven's Crest until it opens to the public, and then sitting inside of it until it likewise closes. Keyleth is by his side more often than not, providing silent comfort, and Percy joins him as well, sometimes, though not usually for company; the rift between them grows with each passing day that Vex'ahlia isn't present, to the point where he wonders if it can ever be bridged now.
Maybe if the woman herself came back. Percy thinks that there are few things Vax wouldn't be willing to do, if his sister returned. There's very little he himself wouldn't give, after all.
Still, when Percy isn't at the Temple himself, Vasselheim is a wide, wonderous city to explore, and though the current circumstance never truly leaves his mind, he's willing to let Pike lead him around and show him the sights as a distraction, especially if it provides a distraction for her as well. There's been a disquiet in her, a somberness that seems out of place on such a gentle face, one that's obviously warranted but no less disconcerting for it.
The temple of Sarenrae is a beautiful thing, aesthetically. He appreciates it, much like he appreciated the temple to Pelor in Whitestone in his youth. It's lovely, and what other people can do in service to their gods is astounding, but he's never been the type to put faith in much of anything. Life and fate both have failed him just a bit too much for that.
Pike pauses outside of it, having gone to check on her people there and Percy having tagged along for lack of anything better to do. He's loathe to be idle, his mind working too fast, too hard for resting on laurels, but with no tools to tinker with his energy builds up nervously, that quick mind working against him without distraction. When he glances down at her, stopping when she stops, her expression is pained and her eyes are wet. Startled, he leads her to a nearby bench and they settle just in time for the first tears to fall on her cheeks.
Uncomfortably reminded of Whitney and her occasional bouts of moodiness, ones that only Oliver could properly draw her from, Percy pats her tiny shoulder awkwardly and says, "There, there."
"I should have been there," Pike says, her voice still sounding strong despite the waver in it. "I could have-- if I'd been there, I could have called Sarenrae and none of this mess would have happened."
Oh, hells.
"You were needed elsewhere," he murmurs, now properly comforting her. It helps, sort of, that she's so small, so little as she leans into his side. It's-- he had several younger siblings, and was sometimes called upon to comfort them. It's strange, sort of, like pulling on an old coat that he's grown just slightly too big for, familiar but a little tight in the shoulders. "It's not your fault."
"It is," she insists, crying in earnest but thankfully not quite sobbing yet. "There's nowhere more important than with all of you. I wasn't there and it's _my fault_."
Percy thinks about Vex, approaching the casket with a critical eye, inspecting for anything abnormal even as he reached in without thinking. They'd just killed another fucking _Beholder_ ; surely the worst had passed. Surely, after that, there could be no larger threat.
Percy thinks about Vex, not seeing the blast of energy in time, being thrown back against the stone floor, breath knocked from her in a final gasp even before she hit, eyes staring up at the ceiling sightlessly. _Oh, gods,_ he'd thought, _oh gods, what have I done._
Percy thinks about Vex, how he killed her, how he _fucking_ killed her, how his offering, all he had, all he could wrack that quick and clever fucking brain of his to think to give, wasn't enough. He wonders if anything he does ever will be.
Percy thinks about Vex, and says, "No, Pike. It's really not."
She weeps openly into his side, face burrowed into his jacket. How much sorrow she must have been carrying, and how silently, for it to have burst out from her now and to this magnitude. He wishes Grog were here. When it comes to comforting, he is almost always a poor substitute.
"She doesn't blame you for it," he says to her gently. He knows this is true, because he knows that deep down inside, she blames him. It's only logical, and it makes the most sense. After all, how could she not?
" _I_ blame me for it," Pike hiccups, "and that's almost _worse_."
\------------------
He dreams, and he doesn't see the Sun Tree because, inexplicably, he _is_ the Sun Tree.
These dreams are rarer, but they do happen on occasion; Percy feels his limbs, his bark heavy with ropes and vines and feathers. His leaves are gone, his branches naked and burnt, can't feel the wind but knows it's blowing because he can feel the swaying of the bodies hanging from him as the breeze hits them. |
51430f68461f43c18143819ce152ee44 | ['343e7fff7997419b902153040c54881e'] | “Well at least I don’t have to worry about reeking like body odor!” I joke with him. Felt good to smile again. “Um, but you really didn’t have to get so much…”
“Silly! They’re not all from me! Though I did get you a little something too,” he hands me the bag that was hanging from his wrist as he carried the bin in. “These are all care packages from our fellow omegas upstairs!”
“Eh?!?” I take a proper look in the bin to find both homemade and store bought snacks for cravings as well as some more heat care stuff for my symptoms. All have cards that say things like “Get Well Soon!” and “Keep Fighting!”
There’s a huge tug on my heart. These are from coworkers I hardly talk to beside giving a pleasant greeting in passing as we share the department floor. I don’t even remember talking to Takahashi Misaki, he’d just started as a new editor for the Japun department. The Emerald and Japun departments are literally on opposite sides of the floor, so even a friendly chat by chance would be hard to come by. And here he’s left me some strawberry hard candies and chocolate bars. Heh, he probably has sweet/tangy cravings during his heats.
“W-wow…they all did this for me?”
“Yep! That omega bond is great, huh?” he chuckles. “Oh but, alphas can catch the ‘omega bond fever’ too ya know! You got some stuff in there from Mino, Tori, and even Kirishima-san from the Japun department!”
“Even Kirishima-san?” if I recall, he’s the one that broke Takano-san’s confused trance on me and pulled him into the meeting room when the Code 12 alarms were going off. And like Takahashi-san, I really only greet him in passing on the manga floor.
“Yep! Oh that reminds me. I ran into Yokozawa-san in the hall on the way here and he said he forgot to tell you that your lunch today was also a gift! He said it’s from his little girl! So you better make sure you eat it all, Ricchan!”
“Awww that sounds adora-- Wait. He has a little girl?”
“Yeah that caught me by surprise too! That’s the first I’m hearing of it, as well!”
I look in the bag that Yokozawa left to find a nice meal of omurice with a snack of onigiri to go with it. The onigiri look rather small but that has to be because a little girl’s small hands had made these. There’s even a little card that’s attached to a box. It looks like it was made with colored construction paper and gel pens. The stickers on it look like they could fit right in with our Emerald department.
_Hello Onodera-san!_
_I heard from Yokozawa-okaasan that you had gotten sick and had to be put in one of those scary omega safe rooms! He says you won’t be able to get out of there until you’re all better, so I made you some of my best omurice! It’s so good I even had to keep my dad from stealing it!_
_I gave you a present too so you won’t get bored in there! I hope it all makes you feel better so you can get to go home!_
_Keep fighting! Get well soon!_
_\--Kirishima Hiyori_
"That's...so nice of her..." I say with so much appreciation and thankfulness I could explode. "Hm?" Her name actually catches my eye. “Hey wait, I thought you said this was from Yokozawa-san’s daughter? Her name is Kirishima...wouldn’t this be Kirishima-san’s daughter?” Thanks to the ladies in the department (that undoubtedly had a crush on him), I heard about his little one; so I know _he’s_ got one.
“I’m sure that’s what he said! Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so shocked about it!” Kisa said pondering. “Oh wait! She called him Yokozawa- _okaasan_ , right?” our eyes widen as we start piecing two-and-two together. “Perhaps...Kirishima-san is Yokozawa-san’s alpha mate? If he’d paired with Kirishima-san, then Kirishima-san’s daughter becomes Yokozawa-san’s daughter as well, right?”
“Ehhhh!?!?!?!” I can hardly hold back my own surprise at this. So Yokozawa-san really _is_ a mother now?! “I...I guess him having a maternal instinct wasn’t a lie…” is all I can put out after that. A lot _really did_ happen in these few short months!
“Uwaah Yokozawa-san is really a mama!! And Hiyori-chan sounds so cute! I know I’m being nosy, but what’s in the little box she gave you?”
“Ah!” I reach over to pull out said box and undo the ribbon. Inside was a couple of coloring books with some colored pencils and what looks like a DVD of her favorite anime. Now that I think about it, this anime is based off one of Japun’s titles. “This has to be the most adorable thing I’ve ever gotten,” I can’t help the huge smile on my face at this cute little girl.
“You’re really loved, Ricchan! I remember Kirishima-san saying his daughter was an alpha. If you think about it, it's endearing to know she’s already gaining that natural sweet alpha instinct to want to protect an omega,”
“That might be because she has Yokozawa-san in her life now,” I say with the smile never leaving my face.
Then for you little Hiyori-chan, I’ll eat every last grain of rice!
\--
Ughh I’m still a little sleepy from my nap. Yokozawa-san had already come and gone after he woke me for my vitals. He’d left another dose of the anti-anxiety drug and said to only take it when I feel I need it.
You should’ve seen the look on his face when I asked him to tell his daughter 'thank you' for her gift. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him give such a soft expression! Ha ha! He really _is_ a loving mama! | 9a312b4bfe7f42c198578914b57efa97 | ['343e7fff7997419b902153040c54881e'] | “C’mon Ricchan! I’ll show you my favorite one,” Kisa says as he helps me onto the safe room floor. Heh, I wonder if he was just trying to lighten the mood because there shouldn’t be anything favoriting about this place. The alarm is still going off with flashing red lights just like on the editor’s floor. He helps me to one that’s near the elevator we came in. The metal door had a huge red Ω. As if it needed to be more obvious as to what it was. Kisa swipes his key card to unlock it and helps me inside; door locking securely behind us. We’re met with a cooling mist from the ceiling that flowed downward toward the vented floor. Obviously to push my intoxicating scent away from the entrance. As such, there’s another plastic door we must go through to reach the actual safe room.
“Wow...this kinda feels funny when it’s not you that’s in heat,” Kisa comments. The mist actually feels very blissful on a heated body like mine. So I can imagine it feels weird for Kisa who isn’t burning up like I am.
Now we’re in the ‘hospitality’ bit of the room. Really not as cramped as I thought it would be. It has a full-size bed, a tv, mini-fridge, radio, desktop computer, bookcases filled with all sorts of Marukawa titles along with dvds and magazines (particularly the more ‘adult’ ones for a poor omega in heat), a phone on the wall to call out and an intercom to answer whoever may be at the door. There’s a huge glass partition a few feet from the foot of the bed and judging by the tiling on the floor and wall behind it, this was the toilet and shower area.
“Wow...this actually looks really nice,” I comment taking in my new surroundings. My head’s still really foggy, but at least I feel somewhat calm now that I’m safe.
“Yeah, Marukawa really decked it out! It’s way better than the shit ones you find on the street. The other ones are like this too,” Kisa says as he heads to what looks like a computer in the wall that has yet another flashing red light next to it. He puts his card into a slot and types a few keys. That’s when the flashing red light suddenly goes green.
**ATTENTION: Code 13. The affected parties are now secure. All alphas remain in your selected meeting rooms until further notice. Maintenance is now dusting the affected areas and elevators. Repeat. All alphas remain in your selected meeting rooms until further notice.**
It’s STILL so embarrassing to hear that over the intercom. They have to sweep the entire department where I was as well as my path to the safe room. It’s mortifying. Again I find myself chanting in my head that it’s for my safety as well as everyone else’s.
“Hey,” I hear Kisa’s voice again. It’s actually really soft as he brings me to sit down on the little loveseat that’s next to the computer. “No need to look so down. This kinda thing happens all the time! I know it’s _ really _ embarrassing having the alarm called on you, but it really isn’t so bad,” he says trying to comfort me. He has his arm around me and rubbing my back. I probably had a gloomy look on my face. Not surprising really.
“I know. It’s to protect me. I get it. It’s just. My secret is out now,”
“At least you don’t have to hide it anymore! You know, I think I’d feel quite liberated not having to tiptoe around so much and putting that strain on your body. I’m sure being a beta faker was kinda crushing on you, wasn’t it?”
When I think about it...He’s actually right. Being a fake beta made it feel like I was Atlas trying to carry my entire world on my shoulders. I had to buy my medicines and omega supplies online and prayed they got here in time because I was too scared I would be found out if I went to the omega care stores and facilities. I had a trusted doctor to visit me at home. I had to fumble up some weird lies as excuses as to why I couldn’t do certain things on certain days if it involved work or school. I also had to take my omega care courses online because everyone would find out if I took them at school with the other omegas. (Alphas and betas also had to take omega care courses as well for safety. Especially to learn what to do during emergencies like this one)
Hiding it was far more stressful, unhealthy, and _ dangerous _ . I could’ve had proper care if I was open about it. Who knows what I just did to my body by forcing my suppressants. “Um...so...what’s going to happen now?” I ask him. The hand he’s rubbing my back with feels really good on a body desperate for human touch. I pray I’m not leaning into him too much.
“Well a member of management has to come assess you and the situation. I’m sure they’re on their way now. After that, I’m sure you already know, this will be your home until your heat cycle subsides. You’ll have someone from Marukawa’s Omega Care come check your status everyday until then,”
Greeaaaat.
**\--Meanwhile (third person narrative)--**
Hatori Yoshiyuki, Mino Kanade, Kirishima Zen, and Takano Masamune all found themselves in the same meeting room during the alarm for ‘code 12’.
“Soooo gentleman! We find ourselves here...again,” Kirishima laughingly scoffs. These four alphas always happened to end up in the same meeting room during Code 12’s.
“Hey it’s only happened about 5 times this year. They’re getting better at it!” Mino joked with him. |
171e8b0eb63843bc94e1865d9e87421a | ['3448eb7006f04248b6d64475dc02d1a6'] | Pete sniffles, and hugs Mikey, causing Mikey to grin and kiss his jaw.
“I actually love you so much, this is the gayest thing i’ve ever felt.”
“Pete shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the moment for once.”
“Just saying.”
“/Pete./“
“Okay, sorry.”
“Also, tomorrow, you can call Patrick and try again. I know you miss him.”
“How do you always see through me?”
“Cause I love you so much, I gained insight to your chest, and I can hear your heart crying for him.”
“Wait, is that true? Mikey, don’t joke about this.”
“….”
“MIKEY.”
“Night Pete!”
Pete slumps back onto the couch, crossing his arms. Damn Mikey and his ability to make Pete think anything.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> i love all of you. and you should be expecting the next chapter soon.
12. thank you!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> not important. don't have to read. just wanted to thank you.
recently, this fic has gotten some attention on tumblr, whether from reviewers, or just ordinary people like me, it's still a pleasure to have written this. i really enjoyed writing this, and i'm sorry that i ghosted on all of you for like, ever. anyways, i'm in my last year of school, which is why i ghosted, and i still want to take the time to say thank you for sticking with this, for all the times i'd leave for 2 months, and never reply to comments. i read all of them. cross my heart. i love hearing feedback. anyways, a final thank you for putting up with my irregular updates, and for the love you showed this during the summer of love 2015. i hope this fic made your heart light up with joy over the possibilities of waterparks and sunsets.. i hope this reaches your heart.
love,
xojo
**Author's Note:**
> bad??? good?? need work??? feel free to actually destroy this work because i am trash and i will post another chapter soon. thanks! xojo | 859f051453f84bc0b038d3e4104506fe | ['3448eb7006f04248b6d64475dc02d1a6'] | > uh hello. I think this might be the last chapter before the two chapters that will end this. I'm thinking of giving you alternate endings, for people like me, who can't handle when a story goes south or smthn. thank you so much for reading. :)
11. chapter 11
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> hi! this is epilogue one. it's pretty cute ngl. thanks for reading.
epilogue
***3 years later, in Chicago***
Mikey and Pete in a dive bar waiting for a show (Mikey’s show) to start. A young man casually wave through the crowd, and replace Mikey’s spot. Pete turns to face him and he quickly hides his shock. He thought he’d never see him.
“Uh, hello. This is gonna sound really weird, but, this is my best friend’s birthday tonight, and he’s not here to celebrate it, and you look just like him, so I thought maybe I could buy you a drink?”
Pete blinks. The blonde boy- Patrick, adjusts his glasses.
“Sure, why not. Lets go sit at that booth over there though, too much noise.” Pete catches Mikey’s smile as he walks by the stage with the people. They both sit down and introduce themselves.
Pete learns that his name is Patrick. He finally fits the name to the face. Patrick messes with his Coke, not being able to look at Pete for more than 5 seconds.
“So who’s the lucky birthday boy?”
“Oh, well, his name was Pete, and uh, he died when we were kids, but I still commemorate his birthday since he isn’t here now.” Patrick fixes his glasses one more time, sniffling slightly. Pete’s heart breaks. He offers his hand over the table. Patrick accepts it briefly, and looks away.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you so much, I just really miss him, and you looked so much like him, and it was just so awful to watch. I didn’t even think you were going to accept the drink. I thought you would’ve thought I was a creep, but god, you look so much like him, it’s unreal. I even have a picture of us.” Patrick wipes his eyes, pulling his wallet out. Inside are 4 photos of various age. The first one is of a small, chubby blonde, who Pete guesses is Patrick, next to a chubbyish tan boy who must be Pete. They’re on a beach, and Pete’s got sand in his hair, Patrick’s laughing. The second one is titled, “Snow day! 1984” and it shows an older but still chubby Patrick making a snowman next to Pete. Pete smiles at this one. The third picture is a polaroid of Pete and Patrick in 1991. They’re both sitting on a bed smiling into the camera.
Patrick smiles fondly. Pete tears up.
“The fourth picture is uh, our friends at the lake a month before he fell through the ice. He couldn’t swim very well, but we all thought it was a good idea to take him ice skating, god, how stupid could we have been? I’d give anything to just say sorry. He drowned in the winter of 1993.”
Pete studies the picture, the two boys, the boys from his dream. Pete whispers under his breath, “Andy, Joe.” Patrick looks up, astounded.
“How did you? That’s totally right. I’m..”
Pete looks at him, and Patrick sort of clicks.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Pete. Pete Wentz. How did you? We watched you sink from the surface! It can’t be. Where have you been? What the hell, Pete! They searched that lake for weeks. They never found your body.” Patrick heaves, trying to take this in, crying a little bit, and Pete pulls him into his chest, burying his face into his hair. Patrick just cries.
By the end of the night, Pete leaves with Mikey and Patrick’s number, promising to explain everything later that night. Mikey’s been all but curious, but Pete keeps his mouth shut. Mikey doesn’t need to know anything yet, Pete’s only just got these memories back.
Pete waits until Mikey falls asleep, and calls Patrick. The other line picks up after one ring with a quiet, “Pete?”
Pete smiles.
“So what I’m getting from the brief conversation is that somehow, you managed to get out from under the ice after we ran for help, and escaped and now you’ve been….?”
“Mostly on the streets I guess, I don’t really remember. Can we just focus on the fact that I’m back in Chicago? You know, Belleville is not my favorite place.”
“Well yeah, I guess, but, Pete, you literally abandoned your family and friends. How can you not think about that? I missed you so terribly, I feel like I’ve missed so much of your life and now you won’t even let me in. You can’t begin to tell me you know how that feels.”
“I…”
Pete doesn’t know how to fix it. Pete hangs up.
Mikey appears ten minutes later, cuddling up on Pete’s lap, nuzzling under Pete’s jaw. He doesn’t say anything, he knows that it was a bad idea. Pete opens his mouth to speak, but Mikey just squeezes his hand and whispers, “Okay.”
“I wish it wasn’t hard to reconnect. I’ve missed so much of the world. I don’t even understand half the technology we have! I don’t understand half the slang you and your brother use, Frank is always questioning me about shit I don’t get, and it’s been 3 years since we left Belleville. I’m just floating through life belly up like a dead fish, which actually, I fucking was a few years ago!”
“It’s not like you can’t reconnect. It’s not impossible. You’re a smart, attractive, confused man who just so happened to actually make what we have work for us. You’ve done so much more than you’re credited for. Plus, for just learning the bass, you’re fucking amazing, and your lyrics are even better. Think about what matters, not just the things you can’t do.” |
e81603147c0946a48557784a03610980 | ['345a92328e41407caca96eda11721e0d'] | “Oh my-“ Patton was practically squealing, covering the bottom half of his face with his fists, he was practically buzzing. “I’m so proud of you! Oh my goodness! This is massive Virge!”
“Chill Patton,” The younger chuckled, pushing his bangs to the side. “It’s just helping backstage and stuff, it was kinda an emergency, they needed more people, and I was in a good place. I thought… it may be good for me, y’know. It’s pretty fun actually, though some of the drama kids are so far up their own ass th-“
Virgil was cut off by Patton throwing his arms over him, he chuckled, relaxing instantly into the bear hug.
“I’m so so so proud of you Virge! This is amazing!” The elder beamed, “Wait is this why you’ve been so late out recently? And is this where you’ve been disappearing off to at lunch? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Virgil thought for a moment. He hadn’t meant to keep it a secret, he had meant to tell Patton. But things seemed to get in the way. He thought back to a month ago, the day he signed up.
He remembered getting home, genuinely happy, with himself, and he hadn’t been sure how long it had been since he felt like that. He had been so excited to tell everyone, prove that his anxiety didn’t control him. His mother often called him the personification of anxiety, not in a horrible way, she’d say it calmly and kindly as she brushed his hair behind his ears, her tired, worn eyes staring into his own worried filled ones, she’d be so happy to know he did something, something that required stepping out of his comfort zone, and facing his fears. Even if only a little bit, it was still progress. He knew his grandma would be proud of him too, she said she was always proud of him, for surviving and persevering, but he couldn’t wait to tell her this. Virgil’s grandmother also struggled with anxiety and depression, especially when she was his age, it allowed them to connect a lot. His grandma was a role model for him, she had fought her way through so much; losing her husband, watching her daughter’s life crumble as her asshole of a husband left her, trying to look after her daughter and grandson, fighting through her depression and her anxiety and her grieving to be there for her family. Setting aside her generation’s upbringing and mindset to be entirely understanding when her grandson came out as something that should be frowned upon. All through this, she had days where she couldn’t find it in her to get out of bed, she had days when she just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, she had days when she felt empty. The battle was never-ending, but she never gave up, and Virgil could only look in admiration at her. That was his grandmother.
His mother had dealt with her father dying at a young age, her husband leaving her, dealt with trying to support their family with several jobs, and through all that remained kind, and understanding, and accepting. That was his mom.
Some may see it as broken, but Virgil couldn’t ask for a better family. As unfortunately Disney as that sounded, he loved them both so much, and he wanted to make them proud.
He’d smiled, chucking his bag to the side as he walked into the living room, his heart stopped beating as he looked up.
“Mom?” The smile died and made way for a look of deep concern, his voice instantly changing, he once again became that small, lost kid, asking where his dad went.
His mom’s face was red and blotchy, her desperately tired eyes glossy and puffy. Virgil’s mind began racing, what happened? What could have happened? What was the worst possible explanation? His eyes darted around the room, he noticed the empty chair. His brain stumbled upon the worst possible explanation.
“Where’s grandma?”
Silence.
There was a choked sobbing sound, and his mom hid her face in her hands for a moment, before quickly jerking her head up to face her son, pointing at the chair.
“Sit down Virgil… Please?”
Virgil snapped back to reality with Patton gently brushing his cheeks with his thumbs.
“Hey, you alright kiddo?” He asked softly.
“Yeah, yeah, I-I’m good.” He realised he was crying. He swiftly stood, taking a quick stride away from his friend, rubbing his eyes into his jacket sleeve and managing to recover himself. “I-I didn’t tell you because… stuff… y’know… kinda came up…”
Patton understood, Virgil had texted him that night, as he was sobbing into a pillow that he’d hugged close to his body. Patton was practically family at this point, he considered Virgil’s grandma his own, she was truly a wonderful woman. She helped Virgil, and Patton, so much, her loss hit him hard too.
Virgil had taken the week off, knowing he couldn’t focus on his studies, or anything, not in that state. But, come the following week, he was determined to return, despite the bullies and the teachers, despite everything the world would throw at him. His grandma would have wanted that, would have wanted him to fight. It required a lot of time crying in school bathrooms, and a couple early days, but he did it. He fought like she did. He could still feel her loss with him, it made getting up in the mornings so much harder, but he was coping.
Patton took a step forward, clasping his friend reassuringly on his shoulder. “I’m so freakin proud of you kiddo, for everything.”
“Thanks Pat.” Virgil smiled, pulling the other in for a long, warm hug.
7. Numb
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Mike overheard Patton’s phone call, he’d easily inferred what was being said by Patton’s responses. He desperately needs to let his anger out on something, but Patton is the only thing there. | 6e7b1d3492164dfb94420c5da12a03a9 | ['345a92328e41407caca96eda11721e0d'] | He made his way out to the kitchen, routinely grabbing a glass and a mug, putting the kettle on, grabbing some milk and some orange juice, etc. As usual, he poured himself some juice and set about making Mike his coffee (medium strength with two sugars.) But he didn’t feel like his normal cheerful self, he didn’t hum like usual, or dance to nothing like usual, instead his movements were sluggish and half-hearted. His mind seemed detached, like it was trapped somewhere else. He felt the constant need to cry, it was almost overpowering. But still he pushed through, only letting a few stray, forgotten tears fall.
“Good morning, pet.” Mike’s voice startled him out of his trance, as strong arms wrapped around his waist and he felt a weight on his shoulder.
“Good morning.” Patton hummed, trying to sound as happy as usual.
“Aren’t you an angel.” Mike smiled as Patton finished making his coffee. He removed his arms and took the coffee gratefully. “I’m going back to bed, wanna watch The Office and cuddle?”
Patton turned to him, his spirits lifting slightly as he nodded. “I’ll make us some pancakes, be with you soon!” Patton shone artificially.
Mike chuckled. “Sounds good, darling.” He lightly kissed his boyfriends cheek, and disappeared back into their room.
Patton sighed, again, as he gathered the ingredients he needed and tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of his being, the burning, wrenching, feeling. Just as he s mixing the batter, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, harshly pulling him back to reality. He checked the caller ID before bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hey Logan, what’s up?” Patton forced out, as chirpily as he possibly could.
“Patton, we need a serious conversation, are you free?” Logan’s voice was strong and unflinching, Patton could feel his heart plummet.
“Um, actually I was just getting ready to spend the day with Mike…”
“Please Patton.” There was a desperation in Logan’s voice that terrified him, his head rushed with all the reasons for this.
“I can tell, please just-I can talk now, like, on the phone.” There was a pause. “Please Logan, tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried.” Patton begged, all he wanted was to help his friend, he just had to find out how.
Logan let out a long intake of breath, he was incredibly reluctant to talk over the phone, but also, he couldn’t stop himself. The thought had be burning at the front of his mind for so long that in that moment, he completely lost his logically self-control. As he spoke, Patton turned to see Mike staring at him from the doorway, an inquisitive and questioning look plastered on his features.
“I’m… I’m worried your relationship with Mike is… is abusive.”
Patton’s face fell, his heart stopped, cold and icy dread ran through him, splintering his bones.
“… Hold on…” Patton held up a finger to Mike, signalling he’d be one moment, and mouthed “It’s important,” at him.
Patton hurried to their front door, he left it on latch as he walked out onto their driveway, pacing back and forth nervously, the gravel crunched softly beneath his feet.
“Logan…What?” Memories of last night appeared fresh in his mind. The insults. The yelling. The bit afterwards. But that wasn’t abuse, Patton was okay with all of it. He was fine, he forgave him, he understood.
“You’re relationship…Mike’s barely letting you see any of us, he’s always involved in all your decisions, he controls your every move. You’re becoming more isolated. More distant. These are telling signs of abuse…”
Dead silence.
“I…I just want you to be okay… And I’m sorry, but I don’t think you are.” Logan’s voice was soft, almost remorseful, everything he said was laced with hurt.
“But he’s never hit me or anythi-“
“-There is far more types of abuse than just physical. All are equally as traumatic and as detrimental to your health.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“I mean, sure, we fight, and he can sometimes get mad at me, but I still love him. That’s not abusive.” For a moment, Patton wasn’t sure if he was talking to Logan or himself.
There was a deep sigh as Logan tried to work out how to kindly convey his thoughts. “Think of Roman and Virgil, they’re practically the architype of a healthy, loving relationship. Do they control each other the way Mike controls you?”
“Well no, but they’re different people. You can’t compare my relationship to theirs. It’s different.”
There was another deep sigh, Logan was clearly having trouble dealing with emotions and trying to convince Patton something was wrong.
“…I really care about you Patton…”
“Aww Lo, I know you do.”
“Then please, please listen to me. You must know, deep down, something is wrong. And I know… you…you love him, but sometimes a relationship just isn’t beneficial to a person’s life, or health, even despite their love.”
“I know. I know to a certain point you are right. I am seeing you guys less, and that’s not nice. But I promise you I’m okay. And I’ll prove it by making my own decision right now, wanna grab a coffee tomorrow?”
“…Are you sure?”
“Of course, it’s been a while since it’s been just us. Hey, maybe we can go for a walk afterwards as well. Though saying this, I’ll have to arrange meeting with Roman at some point too.” Patton rambled on, a small smile creeping onto his face at the thought of properly hanging with his friends again.
“I’d like that very much. Shall we say 12, at the little café near the school?”
“Sounds great, I’ll see you then!”
“Patton…”
“Yeah?”
“…Take care, okay?”
“Of course, you too.” With that he hung up. Immediately he began tapping out a message to Roman, asking to meet on Tuesday at his shop. |
5cf2821ebe454ec396a1adfc9205480f | ['3492b66761ee43a9843ab93d54157596'] | It turns out to be the right thing to do.
As they eat ice cream and watch the birds, Aigis is so awed that she looks like a kid in a candy store. It’s ridiculously endearing and Minato has to get a hold of himself to keep from staring, but he can’t really do anything to wipe the dumb, fond smile off his face.
For some reason he can’t fathom, Aigis seems particularly fond of the albatrosses. She stares at them with mouth agape and one hand hovering near her ribbon, eyes wide and alight. “You seem to like them a lot, Aigis,” he can’t help but say, and Aigis smiles brightly in response.
“I admire them!”
Minato isn’t sure he sees what’s there to admire, so he asks just that.
“No matter the distance, an albatross will always return to the same place, and the same partner. Their bonds last for a lifetime. I read it in the guide,” Aigis’s innocent smile nearly glows when she turns towards Minato, and she’s never looked more human. “I wish to be just like that. I wish to always remain by your side.”
A wave of fondness washes over him, makes the words spill from his mouth before he can even register them. “You would have to dance for me, right?”
“Eh?”
He darts her a glance, voice playful and deliberately light. “It’s part of their mating ritual, isn’t it?”
The joke seems to be lost on Aigis, because she blinks for a moment before smiling again. “Ah! I’m afraid I don’t know how to dance, but I believe there’s also some vocalizing involved, correct? Perhaps, I could learn to reproduce it.”
She sounds so proud of herself that Minato is almost sorry when he chuckles and admits, “There’s no need, Aigis. I was just joking.”
“So was I,” Aigis reveals, her smile taking a mischievous turn right before his very eyes.
For a long moment, Minato is so stunned he forgets how to breathe.
But then he’s laughing, laughing like he hasn’t laughed in months—and when Aigis joins in, her giggles reverberating through him as if his chest were made of violin strings, Minato thinks this is what being in love must feel like.
* * *
**MARCH**
.
.
.
“It’s been a while since we last came here together.”
His sight is getting blurry but he can still hear Aigis’s smile loud and clear; it’s in her voice, in the contentment that seeps through his sore muscles as the words brush his ears. “Yeah…”
“I’ve… missed this. I’ve missed being with you. I’ve missed _you_ ,” Aigis tells him, and something inside Minato’s chest catches; mixes in with the tranquility, makes it ache until it hurts to breathe.
“I thought I didn’t know what it felt like to miss someone, but the moment you were gone from my side, I realized I had felt it before… as I waited for you on that pier,” she sounds nostalgic, her smile quivering when she turns to him and admits, “This past month, I thought of approaching you many times, but I was… scared. The thought of you not remembering me was too painful.”
Minato wants nothing more than to tell her he isn’t going to leave her side anymore, but he doesn’t have the heart to make a promise he won’t be able to keep. So all he can do is smile back and hope Aigis will eventually be able to understand what he means when he says, “It’s… all right now, Aigis.”
“Yes… that’s right. You’re here, now.”
The smile reaches her eyes and Minato struggles to not let his own close, to hold back the apology that climbs up his throat. “Minato-san, you look tired. Please, allow me.”
Aigis’s touch is gentle as she guides him to lie down on her lap, her expression almost shy. “Are you… comfortable?”
He gives a soft nod, hopes his eyes can convey all the things he can’t with words alone. “Thanks, Aigis.”
A peaceful silence makes itself at home between them, and Minato fights back the drowsiness; fights to carve this last moment with her in his memory, to make sure it’ll stay with him wherever he goes.
“I’m sorry for making you miss the ceremony, Minato-san,” Aigis says, and Minato wishes he still had the enough strength left to laugh.
“Don’t be. This is… enough,” Minato whispers with a smile, gaze locked with hers.
_If it’s like this… dying may not be so bad_.
.
.
.
**Author's Note:**
> His thoughts on that last scene are based on the LINK. And the song Aigis quotes is _Always By Your Side_ , LINK. | 44b034c244264642856d102cfdd59891 | ['3492b66761ee43a9843ab93d54157596'] |
Time is ticking away
**Author's Note:**
> This is based on the beginning of what would've been an humongous post!ES one-shot, but since that's apparently never going to get written, I went back to my notes and rewrote everything so that it could stand on its own. Still, it's in a way a lead-up to LINK.
>
> Happy RinHaru Week '15, everyone!
## Time is ticking away;
When they land in Tokyo, Haru isn’t as surprised as Makoto is when Rin replies to his ‘ _At what time does your flight to Australia leave, Rin? Haru and I can keep you company meanwhile, if you want’_ with a playful grin and shameless ‘ _Who says I’m leaving today? Since we’re all here, I thought I may as well spend the night; I haven’t seen your new places yet!’_
_‘Haru, you knew about this?’_ Makoto asks, mortified, and Haru shakes his head. _No_. But, truth is, a part of him has been waiting for Rin to auto-invite himself ever since they signed the contract with their respective landlords. Haru just wishes Rin had the decency to let them know in advance, maybe then his apartment would be more than just a fortress of boxes.
Makoto seems to be thinking something along the same lines, because he offers Rin an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Rin. I can take you there, but the contract said I shouldn’t have anyone sleepover for the first three months. My landlord is, uh,” he scratches his nose, smiles nervously at the floor, “a little… strict. _Very_ kind, though! Really!”
“ _Haaah,_ seriously?” Rin turns towards Haru, expression dry. “You too, Haru?”
“No. You can stay over,” Haru says, “If you want.”
Rin blinks. And then, just as swiftly as it fell, the smile is back on his face. “Guess we’ll have one last sleepover before I leave, after all, huh?” He chuckles softly, pulling on his cap, and something uncomfortable curls around the edges of Haru’s mind. He stays there, silent and tight-lipped until Rin throws an arm around his shoulder and pushes him along; but while his feet move, Haru isn’t really listening to their conversation.
Instinctively, he knows what it is, even though he has tried to not give it much thought. It was much easier to ignore two days ago though, when nothing beyond the five of them and the cherry-blossom filled pool seemed to matter. And it becomes easier to sidestep now that he thinks back to it and can almost feel the phantom petals clinging to his skin, pick up the scent of flowers and chlorine from the air.
And with it comes another memory; one that has been drifting in and out his mind like a stream of wine-colored consciousness.
_Haru doesn’t know for how long he has been this way, floating aimlessly without a care in the world. So immersed he is in his contentment, that he doesn’t notice Rin has gone suspiciously silent until he bumps into something._
_When he (unwillingly) allows his eyes to part open, he finds Rin looking down at him. Rin hasn’t bothered to pull back his hair, so it’s framing his face like a curtain and dripping down on Haru’s own, an unintended call-back to the tears he no longer has any reasons to shed._
_“So, what do you think?” He asks, grin stretching impossibly wide—and Haru doesn’t quite get the playful glint in those red eyes of his until he adds, “Romantic, right?”_
_For a breath, Haru’s mind goes blank and he forgets to tread water. And then the blankness becomes something warm, something that draws an amused smile across his lips._
He remembers. _Haru does, too; can still see Rin leaning forward and searching his gaze, feel his smile, hear his voice—and so he knows only too well how he is expected to react._
_Yet, rather than pressing together, his lips part._
_“_ Yeah _.”_
_Rin’s eyes go wide and a look that Haru can’t quite place flickers through them, like candlelight. It makes something in Haru stir in turn, but before he can even register the feeling, there’s a splash and he has to turn on his back to avoid swallowing a mouthful of water._
_Rin—_ the culprit _—roars with laughter, propels himself backward and_ Haru _—Haru gives chase._
_Suddenly, there’s uproar around them. Someone throws them a pair of goggles. Haru fastens them without thinking—and just like that, they’re in the middle of one of their impromptu competitions. Racing in the pool of cherry blossoms that Rin had once wished to swim in; the pool of cherry blossoms that at some point became a desire for Haru, too—unexplainably, without him realizing it._
_And as Haru levels himself with Rin—as their eyes meet and he sees the trail of blossoms Rin is leaving in his wake, Haru has to bite his bottom lip to keep the laughter from coming up his throat like sea foam._
It occurs to him, then, that it is going to be the last race he will have with Rin for a while.
And for the first time since Rin announced his plans to go back to Australia—for the first time since Haru took the offer to train with a team in Tokyo, Haru allows himself to wonder just how long that _a_ _while_ will be.
* * *
It’s a little past six in the afternoon when Rin rings the doorbell without Makoto in tow. Haru is a little surprised Makoto agreed to let Rin come on his own, but then again, Rin always knew how to have his way. |
cffec7658979434387b00e311623752c | ['3497f755ee4c4acc9fda1ac1fb1fb4fe'] |
1. Chapter 1
_I am terribly saddened that I couldn't share a very important part of my identity and my life with the people I care about the most-my fans,on my own. This invasion of privacy has lead to the end of much in my career including my contract with the company I've been with for years. I can only wish for my fans to support me through and despite this and forgive me for keeping a part of myself from them. Henceforth I shall try to be as honest as I can with you all._
_With lots of love and regards,
Jeon Jeongguk_
Jeongguk sits on the chair in his apartment, looking over at the computer screen as Namjoon omits and re-types the words, jotting it down to the final passage.
His friend turns to him to give him a once over looking for any hint of deterrence on his features and upon finding none, sends a head shake in his direction as if asking him a question that Jeongguk very well seems to comprehend and gives a nod his way, imitating the older's earlier action.
The almost telepathic conversation seems to be an understanding of the release of the statement to public.
Namjoon furiously types away at the computer, as if it physically pains him to convey each term as he shares it on the big bad web.
Now, we wait.
It's around six pm when he wakes up, his phone still hasn't stopped ringing.
He lays himself on his couch comfortably, looking at the phone moving in vibration on the coffee table as another call chimes in.
Next to the device, is set a bowl of ramen noodles, stale and cold Namjoon had prepared for him when he was here this noon. He lifts the utensil and goes over to the kitchen, downing the contents into the bin and dropping it onto the sink, appetite long lost.
**[ Trans ] NAVER: Idol Jeon Jeongguk's public statement since the release of secret vacation photos with older actor**
**[+4822, -229] I thought Jeongguk was normal. He doesn't look gay. Taehyung on the other hand,it was only a matter of time.**
**[+3714, -171] Celebrities nowadays are accepting whatever trends are coming from the west.**
**[+3280, -119] This is honestly so shameful. I expected better from the golden boy.**
**[+2944, -73] Being gay is so common in this industry but we don't need to see it? It made me so uncomfortable when I saw the pictures of these two men together. Like it is unnatural-go do it in the privacy of your homes. Not in front of our eyes. Disgusting!**
**[+1789, -44] Is he seriously gay? And with that old hag too? This guy is seriously putting it all on stake for that second hand thing? Yuck! Stupid!**
**[+490, -298] We don't care who you love, we're always here for you, Jeongguk <3 **
His eyes flicker to the last comment over and over again as if it works as a capsule to give his weak heart some strength to carry on amidst the chaos.
Namjoon had advised him to not open the comments section on the article and he had lied and agreed not to.
Once his friend left, after mulling over it, he tapped onto his phone screen opening a new tab and clicking to view the words netizens had left about him.
The day had started as any other. He had woken up early after a considerably satisfactory nap, gone for a jog, made himself some juice.
It was only about ten in the morning, what he assumes must be around when the news broke out, when he started getting the calls.
The first was from his agent, Ha-yoon, which he missed while he was busy in the shower but upon an onslaught of 'are you okay?' , 'hope you're fine' texts, he requites her call immediately.
Apparently she, much like the general public couldn't decide what was a more scarring blow to his image-his homosexuality or his association with the actor.
Taehyung, with his string of controversy involvements of a failed marriage to Korea's sweet heart Kim Jisoo and a very public spat with leading actor Park Seojoon among various others and twelve year long failing acting career, wasn't exactly the shining example of an upstanding man of the community.
In a matter of minutes, he loses all he has worked for.
He isn't even called to the agency, just told there is no way to bounce back from this so they had decided to terminate his contract.
He recollects all those years he had given behind the company, the youth that will never return with a single glitch and agreeing to hecatomb him because there is no yield here, only loss.
It had been two years since he had debuted under a small company. However, his catapult to international fame from that of his nature of humble beginnings was what caught the fancy of all.
He had successfully garnered a strong fan base outside of his own country; the latest 'it' boy of Korea since he won an award overseas.
He tries to picture his father hearing it from a neighbour or his mother finding out about her son's unbearable disclosure from one of her friends at the book club and his heart flutters at the sight of seeing them hurt, confused, embarrassed-because of him.
He types in the digits onto his phone, his sister picking up on the third ring, speaking in a hushed voice, " Guk-ah, don't call Mum and Dad now, okay? But always remember they love you? Yeah? I love you, baby. "
_" Increase the volume a little. " His mother calls over from the kitchen as she stands at the aisle chopping vegetables for the soup she's preparing for dinner._
_His father picks the remote up from the centre table, adjusting the sound with the buttons._ | 1dc0befb09a848a2833fe53b8e5c1095 | ['3497f755ee4c4acc9fda1ac1fb1fb4fe'] | **[ +2891, -114] Who should we even believe? They're all a bunch of liars**
**~ Can't believe Taehyung calls himself a teetotaller in all his interviews lmfao**
**~ I know right? Remember that variety show he was on where he made that face when he was served vodka?**
**~ Shut up. Maybe he wanted something harder. Like scotch.**
**[ +1777, -66] Speedy recovery from what? Is Taehyung an alcoholic?**
**~ Oh my god maybe that's the reason Jisoo left him**
**~ You might be onto something**
" You knew the press is here? "
Taehyung taps on his screen, quashing chunks of matching candy. The remark disrupts his winning streak.
" What press? "
Puzzled, he looks away from the blinding set of coordinated shades.
" Figured as much. Was wondering why you'd call him over. " , he almost reprimands. Then, taking a quick look at Taehyung's face, goes on. " Not too many of them, just a bunch. "
_" Some cameras followed me to the airport, earlier today. I thought the plan was going to be botched. "_
_Jimin gives him a disapproving look, agitated ever since he told him about Maldives._
_" Be safe, Tae. "_
_From: Jeongguk_
_Have you arrived?_
_Taehyung reaches the resort sometime in the evening, Jeongguk the previous night to avoid conjecture._
Jimin struts to the front of the gate, grabs their dinner.
They sit in the dining space, seated on the tall stools at the aisle, cheese dripping out of the thin crust of the doughy pizza.
His phone shines, on the coffee table in the living area.
_From: Jeongguk_
_Guess we're done, then?_
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
7. Chapter 7
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Happy Birthday, Taehyung <3
_" Who's Aela? "_
_Taehyung's form is stowed on the kitchen island, limbs hanging from the counter as the cubes of kiwi ebb from the fruit bowl in his hand._
_Jeongguk strides from where he'd been standing at the stove over to the aisle, hefting the device and moves his finger across the screen to pick it up on the succeeding ring._
_With two digits heaved and the wink of an eye, he answers him, " She's a songwriter for our company. ", retreating to his room while the ramen boils on maximum range._
Jeongguk rouses in the midsnt of the night to a phone call from Namjoon. A triad of hours have passed since midnight so he reckons it crucial.
The voice at the end of the line sounds limpid unlike the muzzy noises he tiredly throats.
" Jeongguk, I've mailed you a link. Please open it right now. "
**[ Trans ] NAVER: Despite major controversy, fans in Thailand refuse to cancel event scheduled for a fanmeet with idol Jeon Jeongguk**
_Jeongguk sounds a low moan, voice hoarse, face red, hands clammy, one slipping from where it is trying to grasp tight on Taehyung's waist._
_The other stroking his length making to seep into the fissure._
_" I want you to go without. "_
_Taehyung looks like he is unplumbed in pleasure, unable to ruminate, tactless with the way he let his mouth fall open. All he sees is Jeongguk and his own rapture, his own exaltation; and the younger is his mechanism, his very own ecstasy._
_The other boy halts his wandering hands,
" Are you sure? "_
_There is an explicit fickleness, hesitancy fusing in his voice, a consternation in his eyes._
_A wildness, hysteria of sorts that births a fright in his eyes and he can't look into Tae's. Almost like he knows what is imminent is going to be of no nature other than dispiriting._
_Taehyung is unable to pick up on that, he doesn't recognise the curl that the loops in his thoughts have created in Jeongguk's head. He places a kiss on the boy's jawbone, palm shifting from his torso all the way up to the hair on his nape, and utters, " Yeah. Raw. Want to feel you, Gukkie. "_
_When Jeongguk stops the stroking motions, shifts his weight, there is an audible silence in the air; one that stipulates discomposure._
_Taehyung is pulled out of his drunken haze and with a single look Jeongguk's way, realisation dawns upon him. There is an instant rue in his overtones, a nuance of alarm, at what he had just suggested._
_The older blends it in with a gallop of nonchalance, an expression that says the implication does not affect him in any way but the reddening of his features dissent._
_He stammers out, " We don't have to. I just thought. ", but the dispute is concluded. " Shit. "_
_" Fuck. Fuck. " Jeongguk verbalises, at last. " Please don't be pissed. Are you pissed? "_
_Taehyung moves from beneath his form and rolls over, tapering the distance towards the edge._
_" You are pissed. "_
_Taehyung huffs, boyishly, " No, I'm not. I just don't wanna fuck anymore. "_
_He is staunch in maintaining an expression that guises him, instead airing that he is unaltered by what had just happened between the two or the eventuality of it._
_He adjusts his position on rim of the mattress and withdraws into the bathroom, retreating silhouette idyllic in bare form._
_Later that evening Jeongguk is spread on his bed, chagrined by the events earlier, with his phone in hand, typing out._
_Taehyung had left his apartment abruptly giving no blunt explanation despite which Jeongguk knew what the reason behind the animosity was._
_He had returned to the city a day earlier than planned, from his promotional tour; had cut short his own plans of sightseeing whatever part of the continent he was in, on a day off because Taehyung had told him he was going out of town the next day and would be unable to meet him for weeks._ |
6641d572715147f5a9ac5bc118256a59 | ['34c5815d52eb4874bf03b210d00a3106'] |
the purest form of love there is
_Love within a cluster is pathological._
Yes, Riley can see that. If they are all one person, then loving yourself, kissing yourself, even though that facet of You is in a different body….. yes, it makes sense. Narcissism of the highest degree.
But sometimes it seems as though she can’t help herself, as though love like this, between her and Will, Wolfgang and Kala, between all of them, is inevitable. They are connected in every way. The everpresent hum and flow of energy, not quite audible in a physical sense but in the way that it is a _sense_ , back and forth, ties them all closer together with every heartbeat.
She thinks of the way it feels when they slip into each other’s heads, sliding into the veins and muscles of a body that should be unfamiliar. How it feels safe, warm, enclosed in love, familiarity. Like home. She thinks of the little pings they send down the link- _are you there? Always._ They become thoughtless, automatic, even taken for granted. It allows them to become a cohesive unit to such a level that their very bones rejoice in each other’s presence. To blend together so that bones mean nothing- just the intangible rush of their energies against each other, twining together so that she can no longer tell the difference between her little piece of self, and the burgeoning, glowing Whole. _I am also a We._
How can you not love someone who you know so well and so deeply? And surely it's impossible to not love someone who loves and knows you just the same? Isn’t it what everyone wants- to be loved and known on this level? To never have to be alone again?
In some corner of her brain, Riley watches Wolfgang kiss Kala, and thinks of narcissism. She is Wolfgang ( _He is Riley_ ), and she is Kala ( _Kala is her_ ), and she is kissing herself. Yes. She can see that. She can see, also, how that applies to the relationship between her and Will. The thought sends a bolt of disgust through her, and immediately, she feels a little wave of alarm break against her mind.
_Riley, you really should stop overthinking._ Lito says, and the link broadens and flares with activity. Between one blink and another, the Mexican is there with her, sitting on the bench beside her. Wordlessly, their thoughts brush against each other like cats in greeting.
“I’m not overthinking,” she lies, out loud. But it’s useless. She can feel Lito feeling her emotions, like looking at herself through a coloured lense. Riley can feel her own stress and self-disgust lap against Lito’s assured calm.
Lito gives an amused huff, and even though he’s not there, not really, the movement jostles her frame.
“Think about it this way. You think of yourself as Riley Blue, right?” (Neither of them say it –Gunnarsdóttir- but it hangs there.) “You have an identity apart from the whole, to call your own. You’re not Bak Sun, or Nomi Marks. You, and I mean you, are Riley.” Lito pushes at her shoulder in punctuation, this time on purpose, and gentler. This time she pushes back, although there’s no heat to it. “Hernando would say we are like eight petals of the same flower.”
He spreads his hands out, heels together, thumbs tucked in, and glances up to check that she’s watching. His broad, flat hands form a symmetrical shape, four fingers on each side making the petals. “Just because all the petals are in the same flower, it doesn’t mean they’re all the same as eachother. Look, this one has a little scar on it. This one is a slightly different colour. This one is a little bit smaller.” He wiggles his left index finger, his right middle finger, and his right little finger respectively. “Try to remember the fact that you have thoughts and wishes separate from the whole. I don’t think just because we’re all connected now, Will suddenly wants to be an actor, or Capheus wants to go to the temple and leave offerings for Ganesh. Anything like that that we might experience, it’s just leftovers, you know? It passes. It’s because of the link." He stops to breathe, and study her face, and continue on.
"The link doesn’t mean that Kala is suddenly very violent and wants to take up kickboxing and start shooting people. She’s not that kind of person, it wouldn’t fit her. And that’s the point, you know? We all have our own separate personalities and identities. Maybe further down the line, that might change, but I’m not sure it will. And if it does, we’ll all deal with it. We’ll support eachother like we’re supposed to, like we always have. But that hasn’t happened yet. You’re not about to suddenly get absorbed into one- one- oh, great big bizarre eight-person hybrid monster.”
Riley lets out a startled laugh at the imagery sent down the link from Lito, who lets out an exaggerated breath, and Riley feels him think _I think that’s the most I’ve ever spoken to her in one go_ like the chime of a bell. Satisfaction and relief echo in the aftertones. He knows he’s convinced her.
They sit there, watching the sea, for a few more minutes in silent companionship. Riley tries to fill her brain with the crash of waves on rocks, the hissing of the tide as the ocean breathes in and out. She does not let herself think of Will, practically comatose, dreaming shapeless, dim dreams in a corner of their shared awareness, soft and fragmented. Absently, she acknowledges the desire to smoke something. Lito thinks about how he can feel the cold Icelandic air at the same time as he can feel the humid heat of the city, smell salt and enchiladas frying at once. His wonders if Hernando would be proud of his speech. He likes to think he would be. For once, it didn’t come from a movie.
“You know, Angelica thought that love within a cluster is the purest form of love there is,” Lito comments, very quietly. It’s almost lost in the crashing of the sea.
Riley doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to.
_Pure or pathological?_
The waves below dance and hiss. Clouds boil over the horizon, but here, it is heatlessly sunny. Light sparkles off the crest of the waves as they break themselves on the rocks. High up, somewhere, there is the thin and reedy cry of a circling gull. A fishing boat with a red sail makes its way slowly towards harbour.
_The purest form of love there is._
**Author's Note:**
> soo, hopefully everything came across right. please let me know what u thought! concrit and reviews are solid gold. the longer the better <3 | 27a998d0c114403fa19b4c0f215cde4c | ['34c5815d52eb4874bf03b210d00a3106'] | They sat down together on the diagnostics table and twined their fingers together, mostly so that Hongbin could convince himself he wasn't dreaming. She grinned, innocent and childish. (Exactly as he had been, before he had dismantled his siblings for the sake of a girl. Even when she'd died, the last look he saw in her eyes was _Hongbin , don't be sad.) _They rested there together for so many hours he lost count, with their fingers tangled up like cables in Hongbin's lap. They sat even though he felt like he could just jump all around the room, and he would have done if he hadn't thought she'd try to join in. No, he couldn't have her ruining her knee joints. He smiled at the image of her hair swishing as she leaped, and leaned against her shoulder, smiling when she tipped her head onto his. He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, meaning to show her how pretty it looked when it caught the light in a certain way. Peaceful.
That's when he saw the Inspectors.
They had come in like smoke, silent, 3 of them.
The first thought he had was _how unfair.
_ And then he was sweeping her behind him as he stood, terror pushing every thought out of his head besides ** _protectprotectprotect._** He shook his head at them, pleading, wordless as he'd ever been in the face of what he feared most. An Inspectos roughly grabbed his arms, dragging him away, and, with vicious precision, dug his fingers into the pressure point on the inside of his elbow. Doubtless he knew it would paralyze his legs. There was so much noise in the little room, scuffling and shouting, pressing on his ears, making the walls seem nearer than they realy were. It made him sick that he eventually stilled in a twisted attempt to set an example. And he thought his heart might break into hundreds of tiny shards when she copied, and the Inspector behind her brought down a long, long diagnostics needle.
If he hadn't thought it would have scared her more than she already was, he would have broken down in desperate tears. He watched her freeze, eyes flickering in and out of hibernation, arms still slightly raised, as the program rifled through her databases. Invasive. Sickening. How could they bear to violate such a childlike being? _How had they even found out?_ She'd been alive for only a little more than a day. The results would be that she was illegal, he knew that already. She would be punished as much as him in the end, he knew that too, punished for what he'd done. If they even let her live. She would just be thrown away like a toy that wasn't good enough, incinerated or dismantled for spare parts, or simply switched off. The most undignified of endings. And he had brought this on her through his selfishness. Humanity had crept into his system, corrupting everything, making the unthinkable seem like it was a good idea.
_ **
**_He could imagine his brothers, trapped in their useless bodies, looking accusingly at him as if to say,
_"Look what you've done."
_ Hakyeon especially. He always spoke the most painful truths, whether they'd rust or not, and the Hakyeon in his head now was no different.
_"How selfish can you be? Didn't I tell you? Didn't I try to warn you? Now look what's happened."_
He choked out an apology that was more like a prayer, though it was far too late now. The world was already ending.
Their device beeped twice, and a haze of red descended down his vision, like code in the background of his dreams. Time to do something, do something now, because two beeps meant an error, not a heartbeat, it meant heartbreak, how could he have been so stupid---
And he found himself running down a hallway, towing her by the hand. The vague memory of very recently pushing against soft-coated metal, flexing his muscles, using his hands to be violent towards another being, surfaced to the forefreont of his mind. He deleted it.
"It's okay, it's okay," he managed to gasp out between footfalls. Even though everything was so far from okay. There was no way out. His stupid actions had condemned them both to the incinerator.
He slowed, and then came to a stop. They'd run in a circle, down corridors, heedless of where they were going, and yet.. In front of them was the table that he had used to dismantle the silent silver prototypes, the two unfortunate assistants. His brothers. It was bathed in white light, like some far away sympathetic deity had turned it's gaze on them and said, _here, I will give you a solution._ There was a vast silence. She met his eyes. Understanding was in them, like there had been in Taekwoon's and Wonshik's, blatant in her comforting brown eyes. Not a hint of blue was in them. She was still sentient and aware. But the Inspectors would no doubt try and take that away from her.
He wanted to apologise, to alleviate his terrible regret, but instead he took her hand, tangling their fingers together again. They turned and walked together towards the table. They would not rush towards death, or cry and beg to those who would dispatch them heartlessly. This was a more dignified way to go. He resigned himself to death, as they walked. He had created an illusion for himself, selfishly, thoughtlessly. His brothers were ruined, trapped in their useless bodies now, all because of him, and it was right that he should pay the price. He just regretted that he'd had to drag another innocent being into this mess he'd made. Casualties. Because of his error. |
23409da1cd614b1d9c039a640ae0c9f0 | ['34c67b8d63984029b7cdd152848a1b6c'] | His eyes are bright blue, tinged red around the edges. It's what I see before his mouth presses against mine, lips soft. Softer than mine, I'm sure. Am I kissing myself? Do you see this or have I reached a new level of delusion? Seriously, can you see this? Actually, never mind, I couldn't hear your answer anyway.
He grabs my shoulders and pulls me towards him, my legs bracketing his hips. I can't help but gasp and then his tongue is inside my mouth, brushing against my own. His breath is coming out in short, sharp bursts against my cheek and he's making some sort of noise in the back of his throat that's got me hard.
I'm still not sure how normal this is. Masturbating is masturbating but kissing yourself, or a figment of your imagination, I am pretty sure is impossible. But here we are. He must really be in my head because he responds to something I'm pretty sure I never said.
“I'm real, Elliot,” he pants, hands on either side of my face. He's pressing kisses to any skin he can reach and I can almost believe him.
“You know... I almost wish you were,” I whisper somewhere between us and his lip quivers. Our noses touch and my eyes close, his hands are on either side of my neck now and I didn't realise I would like him – me? - touching me so much.
“Let me prove it to you,” his voice floats, glides against my skin and I'm shaking. My hoodie's zip is already undone, t-shirt above my head before I can even respond. I start to shiver but his mouth is against mine again and I yield to him. If he's not real, I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts. I can have this moment and pretend, for a little while, that I didn't kill him in the arcade and bury him in a place I'll never remember.
I pull his tie free from his collar, it comes away easily and I'm not usually so dexterous in sexual situations. His hands are against my lower back then, scorching in the chill of the room. I try to unbutton his shirt delicately, gracefully, the way he rid me of my own clothes, but I snag one and then another. He soon takes the lead and just rips the thing off himself, a stray button hits my shoulder.
Then his arms are around me again and he pulls my legs tighter around his body. He's hard in his dress pants and large, larger than I am. Then he's pushing me back down against the desk, my back against the cold wood.
The computer whirs beside us, it might be hibernating. I wonder if I can still get rid of the malware, that backdoor.
Then my jeans and boxers are gone, shoes and socks disappearing in their wake. Tyrell/me is thorough in stripping. Tyrell shucks off his own trousers, tight boxer shorts pooling around his ankles. Our skin meets again and we both groan. Did I groan for both of us?
He's pressing his lips to my chest, he's more gentle than I thought he would be. He's whispering against my skin, I can't hear what he's saying but it feels almost like a prayer. My hands are in his hair. From the moment we met, I wondered about his hair; how he could go through life with his hair so strategically placed.
I drag my fingers through it and tug it hard. He groans and bites me in response. I hope it'll leave a bruise. If he leaves a bruise, he might just be real.
“Mark me,” my voice is a growl and it comes as a surprise, “bruise me. Let me know you're real.”
He looks up then, breathing like he's run a marathon. He slowly leans over, eyes still on mine, and latches his mouth against my hip bone. He's biting, licking, gnawing at my skin and my dick leaks at the feeling.
I glance around, hoping _he_ isn't here, hoping he's gone. I can't see him and I relax, knowing he can't ruin this moment. Tyrell had, in the mean time, moved to my other hip and the pain sears into my brain. I dig my nails into his broad shoulders, I just want to pierce his perfect skin.
He moves back up and his tongue is once again in my mouth, he licks inside like he's parched and I'm his only life source. I'm digging my fingernails into his back then and he bucks against me, he bares his teeth against the pain.
I can feel his cock graze against mine and then he's biting my neck, his sharp, white teeth nipping at my skin. My fingers slide through his unravelled hair, I try to speak between uneven breaths.
“Fuck me, I need -” But Tyrell is already nodding and he's pressing his fingers into my mouth, eager for me to suck. I can feel him staring at my mouth and the way his fingers disappear between my lips. The creases in his fingers are salty and I drink it in, slurping around two digits, before he adds a third.
Then his fingers are at my hole and it feels strange, alien even. I've never been with a man, never explored that part of myself. Shayla tried to stick a finger in my ass once but I told her it wasn't going to happen, even if I was out of my mind on morphine. She didn't do it again but then there was Tyrell. | 6b224a4cf18e4bb8bcd17397ebcd32a1 | ['34c67b8d63984029b7cdd152848a1b6c'] | Tyrell digs his nails into Elliot's forearms, but it's almost like he can't feel it; he's so deep in the sensation of Tyrell that there is nothing else.
“Thought such a pretty little hole woulda been fucked already.”
There's the condescension again but Tyrell just tightens around Elliot, hard, in an attempt to punish him – if anyone could really call it 'punishment'. But then Elliot just gasps and fucks into Tyrell without any consideration for his pain threshold.
“Elliot!” Tyrell gasps, tears seeping from his eyes.
Elliot grins, shit-eating, his teeth a pearly white, “Serves you right, Tyrell, you know what you did.”
Then Elliot is fucking into him in earnest, chest heaving, hips digging meaningfully into Tyrell's thighs.
“Kiss me, Elliot, k-kiss,” Tyrell can hear his voice slur, wet lips unable to wrap around the simplest of words.
Elliot rewards him with a kiss, bending over, slowing his thrusts and gently prying Tyrell's lips open with his tongue. Tyrell shivers at the feeling. Elliot licks the soft, fleshy skin just beyond his lips, maps the shape of his teeth, before finally succumbing to his delicate tongue. Tyrell digs his fingers into Elliot's hair, pulling at the longer strands, digging his fingernails into his scalp.
Elliot has stopped thrusting completely, cock firmly nestled inside Tyrell, as they study each other's mouths. Then Tyrell is whispering against Elliot's lips.
“Have you... ever thought about me like this? Before?” He can feel how fragile his ego is, but then Elliot's eyes soften.
“Who _hasn't_ wanted to fuck you, kiddo?” Then he's thrusting again, slower this time, languid and continuous, “I bet men have begged to get inside you.”
Tyrell can't help himself, though, Elliot's explanation isn't enough. He wraps his hands around Elliot's sides and moves with him, “but what about you?”
He can feel the sweat cooling on his body. Elliot stops moving.
“What do you want me to say, Tyrell?” He bends over, face close and voice almost sinister – Tyrell is ashamed to say it turns him on, “you want me to say that I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you? That I wanted to see you on your knees, on your back, on your hands and knees and that it was all I could think about? That I wanted to fuck you harder than I'd ever fucked anyone and then make slow, gentle love to you...?”
Tyrell's too desperate, he's too stupid, Elliot can't be saying these things, right? But then he's pressing soft kisses to Tyrell's collarbone and whispering so delicately, he almost can't hear it.
“And then one day, soon, I would want you to be inside me, so you could make me feel the way no one else ever has...”
“Jesus, Elliot,” Tyrell is barely breathing, thinks he'll never manage it again, “I love you.”
Then Elliot is pulling away, face serious, and fucking inside with utter abandon. Tyrell can feel his orgasm closing in, didn't expect Elliot's words, or the way he pushes against his prostate on every thrust. His cock has been on the precipice for twenty minutes now and he needs to touch himself.
Elliot's thrusts speed up, before he's growling, “touch yourself, kiddo.” Tyrell just nods his head and does as he is told, licking his lips as he grabs a hold of his cock.
“Jesus, do that again,” Elliot groans, but Tyrell is confused, “your lips, lick your lips again. Fuck!”
So Tyrell just stares up into Elliot's deep eyes and rolls his tongue over his lips, biting them, making them as red and wet as possible. Elliot stares at Tyrell's brusied lips with intense determination.
“You're gonna be the death of me, kiddo,” he groans, voice a mere growl.
Tyrell pumps his hand, head thrown back, neck bared to the moist air, and then he's coming, splattering his white knuckles and adorning his chest like a medal.
Elliot digs chipped nails into Tyrell's thighs, his hips stuttering at the way Tyrell's hole spasms around him.
“Tryna chop my dick off, huh?” He breathes out a laugh and Tyrell can only stare at the droplets of sweat on his neck.
Tyrell is beginning to get sensitive, nerves fizzling through his skin, prostate stimulated within an inch of its life.
“Please, Elliot, pleeease,” he's whimpering, something he's never heard himself do before, not around anyone but this wiry hacker, “please just cum in me, please.”
“And I'll be the first...” Elliot's licking the sweat from his upper lip, grinning like there's something hilarious behind his eyes.
But Tyrell is just nodding his head, stuttering something like “yes,” and Elliot barks out a laugh of celebration.
Elliot moans out something unintelligible, his lips slipping together, before his cock explodes inside Tyrell. His hips continue to pulse, swollen cock deflating inside the other man.
Elliot's body slides against Tyrell, chests meeting, and Tyrell isn't sure what to do with his hands so he just slips a hand under Elliot's collar and feels the tackiness of his skin.
Then he's standing up and pulling slowly out of Tyrell, taking care not to hurt him; Tyrell hopes there is something in the small gesture. Elliot tucks himself back into his jeans and zips himself up, while Tyrell glances around for his clothes. It's only when he stands up that he sees his tie still lying limply around his neck.
Tyrell pulls his trousers on, forgoing the underwear he can't spot from where he's standing. He can feel Elliot watching him. When he has his shirt somewhat buttoned, he shrugs into his jacket.
Then Elliot approaches him quickly, pulling him by his tie, pressing his warm lips to Tyrell's.
Tyrell glows warm from the inside, he smiles, “what was that for?” Elliot just grins, like he has a secret.
Elliot just shrugs, pulling away, “I won't see you again.”
Tyrell feels his insides run cold, “what do you mean?”
Elliot just grins, “you'll realise soon enough,” he presses another kiss to Tyrell's lips, lingering, pressing his tongue inside and Tyrell can't help but shudder. Then Elliot is pulling away and striding towards the elevator, pushing a cigarette between his teeth.
“Bon soir, Tyrell.”
Tyrell watches him go, feels Elliot's cum leaking out of him and wonders if he'll return soon, or when.
Then he notices his own underwear sticking out of Elliot's back pocket and grins, yelling so he hopes Elliot can hear it.
“Bon soir, Elliot!” |
bd80844d6b8f449eaab5070d932511ce | ['34cf9aba83a04715af7066820f113889'] | “I am glad that you do, Captain! Once the King, together with the few people he had consulted, had reached his decision, he felt free to turn to me again for my opinion on the matter. He told me of his decision to remit all penalty in your case, but thought some form of concession might be in order, such as a formal discharge from the Guard of the City. At that time, I already knew I was to receive the incredible gift of my new princedom, and I was deliberating about the composition of my principal staff. You are right that I considered appointing a man familiar to me as the head of my guard – you are acquainted with Captain Mablung? But the King and I are in agreement about keeping the Rangers as an independent force in Ithilien, and Mablung is simply too valuable to lose as my successor as Captain of the Rangers... In any case, when King Elessar showed concern about the need for some sort of gesture in your case, I knew I had found my Captain. It was _I_ who suggested this ‘compromise’, of discharging you from the Guards of the Citadel, and re-assigning you to me in Ithilien.”
Faramir reached for the wine and re-filled his goblet. After taking a sip to wet his throat, he continued, an intense look in his eyes as he caught and held Beregond’s own, which had opened wide in surprise at this last revelation. “Captain, I can well imagine that the King’s decision to forego the usual punishment in your case is not welcomed everywhere.” His eyes narrowed as Beregond could not prevent a new flush from burning his face. “Ah, so you have already noticed... This was one more reason why the King suggested that you be released from duty until we would have spoken today, and Captain Eradan concurred. The Captain assured me that while he may be personally glad of how things fell out for you, and that he is sorry to lose you, he is concerned that your staying in the company might cause dissension and disciplinary problems among his men and among the other guards of the city.”
Beregond nodded, very relieved to hear that Captain Eradan bore him no personal ill will.
“Your removal from the Guard of the City could therefore be effective against voices who say there _should_ be some form of punishment.”
Faramir sipped at the goblet once more, and Beregond re-filled his own and immediately downed half of it.
“Things being as they are,” the Steward continued with an ironic smile, “a transfer to Ithilien could actually be regarded as an exile in truth. There are hardly any accommodations, everything will have to be built or re-built from scratch, in particular what will be the chief settlement in Emyn Arnen and the headquarters of the White Company. We will also have to address the infrastructure and buildings in some of the old villages. It will be hard work – and dangerous work. We cannot afford the illusion that, with the Dark Lord’s fall, every evil in the world has also vanished. The Rangers keep encountering Orcs and other enemies who are not all content to flee from the place of their defeat. The land itself, I am sorry to say, has not escaped unscathed: there are poisoned streams; defiled trees and meadows; traps; weapons and other dangers lying around, buried or half-buried, which might hurt the unwary. And for this ‘pioneer work’, if I may call it thus, I need people who are diligent and thorough, who are dependable and prepared for hard work, who can cooperate well with people of all kinds, and who can keep their heads in critical situations or emergencies. These are all criteria that fit with what I knew of you from my own few observations, confirmed by what your superiors or your comrades have reported to me. As for the fact that you do not have command experience: I am convinced that you have the best of qualities and prerequisites to quickly acquire the necessary knowledge. I am, of course, fully prepared to help you in your new task, and to also bring you in contact with people who will do the same.”
Faramir smiled encouragingly at Beregond, who blushed once more, this time at hearing that Faramir and others thought so highly of him.
Both men emptied their drinking vessels a second time, before Faramir resumed, in a very serious mien and tone, “But in _particular_ , Captain Beregond, do I need men who can _use_ their own heads and their own judgement when necessary, even in the face of serious or life-threatening risks to themselves. No matter what the risk. Your actions proved that you are such a man, and eminently suited for the task of Captain of my guard in Ithilien. When I suggested this to the King, he immediately agreed.”
Faramir had apparently finished, and after a few moments, Beregond in a fumbling way tried to express his gratitude at Faramir’s good opinion of him, and his relief and yes, pride, that it had been Faramir’s very own idea to appoint Beregond as head of his guard, not a decision by the King he had merely dutifully accepted.
~*~*~*~
Beregond felt now comfortable enough to reveal to the Steward, albeit in an uncertain, groping way, his own lingering, still unresolved feelings regarding his killing of the three men. | f889a24bb9b14bf4aabb3063d9644592 | ['34cf9aba83a04715af7066820f113889'] | > My warmest thanks go to Gwídhiel and Lady Masterblott for their insightful and careful beta reading. Thanks also to Gwynnyd for some helpful suggestions.
>
> _03.02.06_
2. A Visit at Teatime
The door knocker sounded, echoing through the stairwell to the upstairs rooms of the house.
Beregond, startled, looked up from the letter he was writing to his father and sister in Lossarnach. Apart from his neighbour, a young woman who came over for cleaning the house and washing regularly and cooked for them from time to time, they had not had any visitors for the last three days; it seemed word had got out about the King’s instruction that they both take a few days’ time to come to terms with events in peace. Even Diegan had left them, finally seeking his own home and family, which had sent greetings and promised a visit at a later date.
While he heard Bergil hurrying out of his chamber down the stairs to open the door, Beregond finished his last sentence, before putting the quill away and sealing the ink well, slowly, wondering who this visitor could be.
He was not sure if he wanted any visitors, yet.
On the one hand, he had appreciated this time alone with his son enormously. The mere chance to calm both their strained nerves had been an invaluable help, he thought. And to be with Bergil without interruptions for any length of time was a precious gift in itself, which he seldom, _too_ seldom, could enjoy at other times. He was somewhat reluctant to see it pass now.
But on the other hand it would be good, especially for Bergil, to have someone else to talk to for a while. He had been cooped up at home for long enough now, apart from some necessary purchases of provisions, and daily visits to Iorlas.
They had not even gone to The Ship and Bough, after all, on the day of the King’s ruling. Beregond had felt uncomfortable about being seen in public as if he were celebrating blithely, as if the loss of life he had been responsible for did not mean anything to him. And although he had regretted missing out on a good meal and perhaps a chance for a pleasant talk with Mistress Almarian, he had been quite adamant in this decision despite Bergil’s protests. The issues entangled in the King’s decision were too serious for that. In the end, Bergil had grumblingly yielded to his father’s request that they stay at home to recuperate in solitude.
Beregond suspected that Bergil had been as overwrought and mentally tired as he was, but had not wanted to admit it. Staying at home so long must seem as a punishment for such an active lad as he was, especially after all that running around on errands which had so suddenly stopped after his father’s suspension from duty.
And surely, a change from the mostly serious discussions they had had of late would be good for both of them.
It had been difficult, sometimes gruelling, to talk about their experiences: Of what Bergil had gone through during the siege. Of Bergil’s fears for his father, of his anger at him for putting himself in such a situation. Of his fear of being left all alone, an orphan like all too many other children in the city. Of his nightmares.
Beregond doubted that Bergil had spoken about this to Diegan, at least to any great extent. As much as his son liked Diegan, Beregond suspected that it would have seemed disloyal to the lad to speak about his father to someone else, especially when some of those feelings had been negative ones. It had taken him some time and many assurances before he had managed to persuade Bergil to admit them in the first place, and then to reassure him that those feelings were very understandable and nothing to be ashamed of, and that he was not in the least angry with him for having them.
It had been difficult for Beregond, too, to keep his promise and talk about his own experiences. To relive the events of that day in Rath Dínen, of the march towards Mordor and the battle at the Black Gate.
He was not certain, even now, if he had done the right thing by Bergil in talking so freely of his own fears and doubts during that time. Perhaps it would have been better to omit some things from his narrative, as he had done in glossing over the more violent and gruesome details of the actual fighting. He had always been honest when talking to his son, and Bergil had seemed to appreciate his frankness in this case, as well, but all the same...
~*~*~*~
Following his son downstairs while rolling his sleeves back down to his wrists, Beregond heard a familiar voice answering a surprised exclamation from Bergil.
“Hullo to you, too, Bergil. I hope I am not intruding?”
The last was addressed to Beregond, who, upon identifying his visitor, had rushed to his son’s side. A wide smile spreading over his face, he shook his head firmly, going on one knee to clap their visitor on the shoulder.
“On the contrary! What a pleasant surprise, Master Perian!”
The long-suffering sigh of the Hobbit at this address only made Beregond grin wider. “Pippin, you are very welcome. Please, come in, come in!” The Hobbit let himself be ushered into the main room and onto the comfortably cushioned bench, while Bergil found him a stool to put his feet on.
“Bergil, do not stand there bouncing like a grasshopper,” Beregond then chided indulgently, shaking his head at his son, who was indeed skipping from one foot to the other in his excitement. “Ask our visitor if you might offer him some refreshments!” Winking at him, he added in an overdone aside, “You will not receive ‘no’ for an answer, I am fairly sure.” |
56f7b2ac4e8d4d8b97b9623f4ef76577 | ['350c3bb21b1a47858b4f4a3ce00878e0'] | "That we are yet to discover" Mary took her to the living room, where everything looked like prepared for supper for two people. Zelda for a brief second almost believed Wardwell was waiting precisely for her. However, she quickly abandoned this senseless idea.
"I don't want you interfering in Sabrina's life anymore" Zelda still had her cigarette, but Mary didn't seem to care, which was more than a bit annoying.
"Oh, no, Zelda, let's pretend to be... civilised" it was disturbing how easily Mary came back to her confident, seductive self. For the first time since her appearing on Mary's doorstep, Zelda felt threatened. And she couldn't exactly tell why. "You came, uninvited for a sapper and insisted to disturb me with my plans. At least behave like a proper guest." Wardwell gave Zelda a glass of red wine which she took in shock again. She didn't like the idea of Mary enjoying herself during their conversation and Zelda had a strong and unpleasant feeling that she was a fly caught in a spider's web.
"I didn't come here to play your foolish games" saying so, Zelda took offered glass suddenly in a need for some alcohol and in absolutely no desire to make her host angrier, trying to hide her uncertainty. She sat on the pointed chair, on the other side of the set table, having a teacher exactly in front of her.
"I don't play foolish games, Zelda" Zelda couldn't remember since when they were on a first name basis, but at this point, she didn't see a reason to argue. The faster they get to the core, the faster she would be able to leave, which now sounded like a marvellous idea. "Games, yes, but certainly not foolish. And not with you." It was a bit insulting in a strange way, but again not reason enough to start arguing, so Zelda remained quiet, waiting for Mery to finish her prelude. "So, you said you were a midwife?"
"Oh, please, what does it..."
"No, no, Zelda, we are being civilised, remember?" A hidden threat in Mary's voice made Zelda uncomfortable again. She clenched her teeth reminding herself she wasn't giving up on controlling course of their conversation, simply didn't want to be distracted again. She could play this foolish game for a while, no matter what Wardwell would like to call it. If letting her feel like she was in control was the only way to have this conversation finally, so be it.
"Yes, I'm a midwife, I've never lost a child" it was something to be proud of. She wasn't only a strong and dangerous witch, but the best midwife in the coven and probably one of the best in coven's history. Mary looked kindly curious, which was hilarious in a way. Both knew that she wasn't interested at all.
"Praise Satan for his gifts" Mary took a sip of her wine. She was looking way too comfortable considering that she had nothing but a bathrobe to cover herself.
"Labour is not a place for a man and that very much include our Dark Lord" Zelda was just a bit too quick with her answer, but the only occasion man could witness giving birth was when he was the one to be delivered. Mary raised her left eyebrow and with an unspoken "oh" she only nodded. "That's why it is Lilith to whom we raise our prayers during pregnancy."
"Mother of demons?" Mary seemed amused, which made it even harder for Zelda to concentrate on her task. She had to remind herself again, why she was even having this silly conversation.
"A mother. A woman." There was no man able to understand the pain of a woman in labour and a bound with her child. Zelda siped her wine, but Mary didn't seem to pick the conversation, so Zelda decided it is time for her to lead this talk in the right direction. "Was it enough civilised for you?"
"You did wonderful" Zelda didn't like this tone of Mary's, she didn't like to feel like a praised pupil, not in her age, although she remained silent, trying to be above all insults Wardwell could possibly think of. The doorbell, however, interrupted their conversation. "Excuse me, this must be my sapper after all."
Mary stood up quite gracefully, taking a wine with her. Zelda could see, how dark-haired woman uncovers herself, just as she probably had done before opening the doors for her, and leans on the doorframe, before pulling a handle. Zelda rolled her eyes in disbelief when she saw a pizza delivery guy standing outside. That was ridiculous. Zelda had no idea, what was more outrageous, ordering pizza or dressing like this for some pizza boy. Mary's seductive voice came to Zelda's ears making her shocked for the third time this evening. It wasn't easy to surprise Zelda Spellman to that level, she was living with Sabrina after all, so this result was truly impressive. Even more, when pizza boy came as invited and looked at her stupidly with excitement painted on his face. Looking at him Zelda saw how doors were magically closed by Mary who didn't look seductive anymore. Right now she was only dangerous smiling wickedly, approaching a boy who suspected nothing. Zelda saw a twist of Wardwell's wrist, heard a latin and suddenly boy fall on the floor senseless. | 6b47092eaad84a69925502f0731db61b | ['350c3bb21b1a47858b4f4a3ce00878e0'] |
Killer Queen
**Author's Note:**
> I just had a feeling I needed to write something about Zelda and Hilda relationship. As an older sister myself, I do love it in the show, they are both brilliant, so there is the first time Zelda killed Hilda.
The first time Hilda died was traumatic. It was bearly after her seventh birthday and they were just playing. Nothing bad could happen. Nevertheless, it did happen and Zelda found herself on her knees holding lifeless body of her little sister in her arms. She didn't believe. One second Hilda was giggling like usual, smiling, being the happy girl she always was and the other she was just lying on the grass, not moving, not breathing, not living. Zelda started to scream.
It was their father who came first and saw everything. Zelda was sobbing loudly and visibly and Hilda wasn't moving.
'I didn't mean to, father, we... we were just playing!' Zelda cried out loud before she hugged Hilda stronger like it could bring her little sister back to life.
'Shh, Zelds,' father's hand was on her head, brushing through her carrot blond hair, as she insisted to call them, calming, the other hand went to Hilda's pulse point checking her heartbeat. There was none. 'It will be all fine, Zelds, I promise you. We need to take Hilda to the yard, there is a place, where she can get better.'
Zelda didn't understand. Father should be mad, he should be angry, he should be sad, it was Hilda who died, his little, shiny princess always giggling with him, making him smile every time, making everyone smile. Her vision was blurry from her tears, she couldn't see father's face properly, but his voice sounded so calm, for a second she believed her little sister might be alright. She held on to this belief while she stood up on her feet still holding Hilda close.
She wasn't much older than Hilda. She was just twelve, still very young, still not that strong, but adamancy on her face stopped a father from taking Hilda's body from older sister's arms. She could bearly walk, however, was stubborn enough to follow their dad to the yard. She was crying quietly all the way. Teras running down her chins, voiceless sobs coming from her shivering lips. She wasn't talking with father not sure how to explain to him what had happened only a minute before. The way, step by step was all she could stay focused on. The way and the emptiness somewhere inside her chest that felt like was swallowing her from the inside, like there was no any other emotion in her future life, just this terrifying void in place, where always was something, where always was bright laughter and silly innocence. The space that was always filled with Hilda's warm smiles and tea she was pouring to everyone in the house. It was like she was missing her heart.
It took more than her whole physical strength to drag her sister to the yard, it took also all her willpower not to collapse on the way and not starting crying too hard to be able to do anything else. She was too focused on her way and on not falling apart that she didn't even notice when her dad dug a hole in their yard. He must have used magic, there was no other explanation and it terrified Zelda.
'You said you can help her! Not burry her in a grave!' She never had shouted on her father before. She was the perfect daughter, always so polite, always so patient, so smart, so respectful towards her parents. It was the first time she ever yelled on someone. 'You lied!' She was holding Hilda as tight as she could. She would never put her in some hole in the ground. She would never let her sister rot there. Never.
'It's alright, Zelda. This place, look, it's Cain's pit, it's in our family for ages. Every witch that died can be resurrected here. We need to burry Hilda down, but I promise you, she will be fine. Please, Zelda, believe me, everything is going to be alright.'
She wasn't entirely sure if she believed him, but whispering a levitation spell she learned not long time ago, she placed Hilda's body in the pit. She never had lifted anything that heavy or big only with her magic before. It cost her much energy but she was far from complaining. Her sister was looking so calm like she was just sleeping, Zelda even caught herself on waiting for Hilda's snoring. Which obviously never came. She was still crying not hiding her tears and sobs when she grabbed a shovel and covered the lifeless body with soil. She was doing it on her own, she didn't want father's help, she was going to make things right herself. And he didn't offer his help. He probably knew, but Zelda wasn't able to think about anything but her silent prayers to Satan, Lilith, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, all devils, all demons, all her ancestors, prayers for Hilda's recovering.
When she finished she was exhausted. She looked at her father who was standing right next to her. That was when she stopped holding back and fully burst into tears, collapsing on her knees, dragging her dirty hands to her face and cried just very, very loudly. Her father was right next to her, holding her in his arms, shushing her. It took a while before she was able to put incoherent noises into words. |
8fde608d049e4d8bbb0d2aba9348c015 | ['350c699a67f344c687043e2441a9b36c'] | Pamela woke up, and smiled.For a moment she had forgotten about the outbreak. She forgot that the president was dead, as well as the rest of the Trump Cabinet! She forgot that the government was on the verge of collapse.
Benjamin rolled over, spooning her. Pamela felt so good when he held her. Benjamin had been her reason to keep going. Except for her dog Jeremy of course! And the hope that someone somewhere would discover a vaccine.
Benjamin let out a low growl, as he lie there, half asleep. His cock hard from morning wood. She could feel his thick shaft through his pajamas as he rubbed up against her.
“I want to feel you inside me!” She moaned. Benjamin Took his cock out, and teased her pussy lips, before he slid his handsome cock deep inside her pussy. He held her close as he grinded into her. He kissed her passionately as Pamela stared into his piercing blue eyes.
His eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled.
He waited until she had climaxed before he did! He spilled his seed, and then rolled back over to his side of the bed. They lie together basking in the afterglow. Pamela rested her head on Benjamin’s ruggedly hairy chest, and lie listening to the sound of his heartbeat. He held her close as it dawned on her that they were living through the end of the world!
“The words so much quieter now!” Pamela said.
“That’s becuase allot of people have died!”
“I wonder how many people died last night?”
“Allot…” Said Benjamen. He kissed her forhead and held her in his arms, trying to make her feel safe.
That morning at breakfast, Pamela made two microwave breakfasts. She was down to her last bottle of maple syrup from that trip she and robert had taken to the adirondacks. She was goning to have to do something awful.
“Little dark today, huh?” Pamela joked trying to cheer Benjamin up!
Ben let out a light chuckle. She tried to make small talk but just couldn’t so she just got down to cases. “I’m going to take the jeep into town, and get some food.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea! Maybe you should let me go. I wish I had one of those biohazard suits!”
“Ha, well I’m gonna make something equally as good! And it will be fashionable too!” Pamela said as she threw together some black trash bags and jerm-proofed them into a fashionable, yet virus proof ensemble.
Pamela dabbed a few squirts of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer and left her mansion that morning, and drove into town. The world was hauntingly quiet as she made her way through the apocalyptic landscape She made her way through the seemingly deserted grocery store, and was surprised to find her social frenemy Cathrine looking for supplies there as well!
“Cathrine!”
“Pamela, is that you? I love your trash bag thing!”
“Well safety first, and that’s always in fashion! Pamela replied.
“Sooo… Interesting times!” Catherine said trying to make small talk. To maintain some sense of normalcy.
“I didn't know you had a dog!” said Pamela noticing the bag of dog kibble.
“I don’t!” Catherine said simply.
Pamela’s eyes widened in horror when she realized how bad things actually were! She made her excuses and rushed out of the grocery store. That evening when she returned home she took solace in the knowledge that she and Benjamin were both healthy, and that they had each other.
Pamela clung to the hope that there would be a cure, or that the virus would just die out. But mostly she hoped that Benjamin and she would both outlive it too! | 842483f52cc44e19a1c9767637db16c7 | ['350c699a67f344c687043e2441a9b36c'] |
Lost and Found
**Author's Note:**
> This is set in an AU where dipper never found the author of the journals, and He and Mable Stayed in Gravity Falls!
Lost and Found
It was late, near closing time. Wendy sat at the cash register with her feet kicked up on the counter; reading one of her magazines. She looked up to find Dipper in the corner. Obsessing over the jornal while mabel was busy making a collage of hot boys.
Stan walked in, wearing nothing but his bathrobe and slippers. “Are you still here. Go home already!”
He then made a swift exit.
“Closing time yes!” Wendy made her way towards the door and left Suss to close up, but was followed by Dipper.
“Hey Wendy! What’cha doin tonight?”
“Well Tambery’s parents are out of town so she’s throwing a party. It’s gonna be off the hissy!” She said.
“Yea sounds like it will be. Off the hissy I mean!” Dipper nervously replied.
Wendy turned to walk away again, but was once again stopped by dipper. “Hey Wendy?”
“Yea?” She turned, smiling at him sweetly. She could tell that he wanted to say something to her. Instead he just said. “Never mind! I guess it can wait till Monday!”
“Kay, night Dipper!” With that said she turned a walked away. Vanishing into the dark woods that surrounded the mystery shack.
Wendy made her way through the woods. A cold wind ran it’s icy fingers through her read hair. Something strange was written on it. She felt as though there was some supernatural and strange presence pulling her deeper and deeper into the forest, like a moth to a flame.
Then suddenly the ground beneath her feet vanished. A black hole opened up, and she fell in!
And for the longest time she felt as though she was falling….
-o0o-
Five Years Later:
Wendy came out the other side. Tumbling head over feet, landing on some tall stranger.
“Ugh dude I’m so sorry. I think I feel into the Bottomless pit outside the Mystery Shack again!” She said dusty herself off.
“Wendy! Oh my god It’s you!” said a familiar voice from behind.
She turned to face the boy she landed on. Looking at him was allot like looking at a photograph of someone you’ve know, but taken years before you met. Only she had met him before. She only knew one person who wore that baseball cap with the blue pine tree.
“Dipper?” Even as his name came out of her mouth she couldn’t believe it! But it was Dipper all right, but older. Seventeen years old to be exact! “I don't believe it. What happened? Did you drink another one of old man Mcgucket’s crazy potions to make you taller?”
“No, Wendy. That night you went to Tamdrey’s party you Disappeared! We thought you were dead or got eaten by the multi-bear or the zombies, or one of the other weird things that live in the woods! You’ve been gone for five years!”
“What!?” her eye’s widened in disbelief.
Days passed. Wendy returned home, and went back to high school. all her old friends had moved away from gravity falls. Cept Robby who was still pining for her. Even though he was now twenty which made it kinda creepy.
At least at School she had Dipper and Mabel to go to class with. And After School all three of them worked at the mystery Shack.
One day in between classes Dipper managed to catch Wendy at her locker hoping to have a quick word with her.
“Hey!” Dipper greeted, “So how are you doing?”
“Good i guess. I just can’t believe I’m home.”
“Nither can I!” Dipper said. “You have no idea how much I missed you. Wendy please promise me you're not some evil wax figure or shape-shifter just pretending to be her. I don’t think I could handle losing you again!”
“I promise!” Wendy said.
“Hey after school will you come to the mystery shack. There’s something I want to show you!” Dipper asked.
Wendy agreed.
After school Wendy showed up at the Mystery Shack. Smiling as it seemed the old ramshackle was the one thing that hadn't changed since she disappeared. She knocked on the door and was greeted by Stand who in the time she had been gone had become greyer and crustier!
“Wendy! You're Late!” he joked, then shouted for Dipper. Differed followed shortly inviting her inside and leading her upstairs to the attic which was solely inhabited by him now that Mabel had moved to the spare-room downstairs.
“You and Mabel don’t share a room anymore?”
“Naw, She’s in the spare room downstairs. it’s not half bad now that we removed the rug that makes people switch bodies!” He said laughing at the weirdness of the town.
Wendy laughed back.
“Here this is what I wanted to show you!” Dipper gestured to the wall on the opposite side of the room which was filled with pictures and evidence connected by push pins and yarn.
“Okay what is this?” Wendy said slightly freaked out by it.
“After you disappeared, I stopped searching for the author of the Jornal and started searching for you. I used the Journal and the other two I found to try and find you. Eventually it lead me to a jem to a well in the forest that brought back what was lost. I threw a coin in and wished for you back. And to my surprise, it came true!”
“You did all that for me?” Wendy asked with tears swelling in her eyes. Dipper nodded. “That it the sweetest and greatest thing anyone has ever done for me!”
Wendy paused for a moment. Thinking back to the night she vanished. “The Night I vanished. You were going to tell me something. What was it?”
dipper let out a sigh and said. “I was going to tell you, that I love you Wendy. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you!”
That said Wendy kissed him.
And they lived happily ever after... |
792e07d2bc254374ac7a22cdd3759361 | ['350cc974b61f4cd38ebe64863e8399e2'] | "I'm Mal." She countered. "And that idiot who looks sort of like a girl is Jay."
"I'm Carlos!" He exclaimed. "Now tell your Jay to get his scrawny self over here so we can go on an adventure."
Laughing, Mal called for Jay, and the three went giggling down the street.
5. School
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The education on the Isle of the Lost was much different in comparison to Auradon's.
The education on the Isle of the Lost was much different in comparison to Auradon's.
For starters, your classes were never normal reading, math, history, and science. You were forced into a class based upon your gender. Males took woodworking, metalworking, and horticulture courses; females took basic cooking, parenthood, and sewing. Also, you only go from the ages of ten to eighteen. It was not separated by grade level.
Jay, being eleven, had already been enrolled in the island's school for one year and since both Mal and Evie were freshly turned ten, their daily schedule switched from mischief-making to spending eight precious hours in a building.
Evie took to the sewing and parenting courses right away, her mother already teaching her the basics. Mal, however, after being so used to living like the boys, felt bored by the required courses.
"Jay. Please… If I have to change one more baby doll's diaper, I'm going to throw myself at that stupid force field until I pass out." she complained one day as the friends were walking home. Evie, who enjoyed school much more than spray painting the abandoned buildings, smiled. "Oh Mal, you are just a sour puss because they made you stop carving "Maleficent Rules" into the tables."
Mal grunted and rolled her eyes when Jay busted out laughing.
After another month of school, Mal's attitude still hadn't changed regarding her course load. It didn't make matters any better when she met Jay by the front doors and all he would talk about was how his teachers were finally treating his class like men. "... And they even let us learn why we aren't allowed to be on Auradon!" he exclaimed, a bundle of energy. "Apparently your mom made a whole town sleep for like, a hundred years!"
This made Mal infuriated. Yes. Her mom committed a crime. But why pick on her mom? It's not like Jafar, Jay's thieving dad, was any more esteemed in Auradon!
"Would you just shut up?" she challenged. "Yes. My mom is not the most benevolent woman on this planet. So, would this whole freaking place just stop talking about her?"
Mal was as close to tears as Jay had ever seen her. Pulling her into a hug, he started running his fingers through her purple locks.
"How about I show you how to identify if a corn stalk has a disease?" he inquired, trying to take Mal's mind off of her abusive mother.
Leaning back, she gave a small smile to her best friend. "I'd like that."
That afternoon, Mal ran into the apartment she and her mother shared with the Evil Queen and Evie, talking all about stalk rot and Anthracnose leaf blight.
6. Hurry Up
School was out for winter break and spirits were high on the island.
Mal and her ragtag gang of misfits gallivanted through the streets, spray painting everything in sight with the words "Long Live". It was on was of these escapades that Mal found herself alone with Jay.
Now, under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have been unwelcome. In fact, Mal had a very loving relationship with her surrogate brother and would do anything for him.
However, the week before school was let free, they had the talk. Like, the talk. A lady from Auradon came into the school (with five bodyguards no less) and lectured about the type of changes they as young women would go through and don't worry, it is perfectly normal.
Ugh,
So when Mal realized that she was in a dimly lit cavern with another person, she flipped. in fact, she was so agitated, what when she turned around her lips collided with Jay's.
Worst. Day. Ever.
Jay's eyes were wide, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Did I miss something? he wondered.
Mal started to apologize rapidly, snapping Jay's brain back into focus.
"- don't hate me - oh my gosh - I didn't mean -" Jay, in a spur of the moment decision, kissed her again.
After no movement from Mal, Jay opened his eyes - had not noticed they shut - to find Mal shaking.
"Please. Just hurry up and get it over with."
Jay, without even realizing, had become the monster that had abused the purple haired girl all her life.
"Mal, I swear, I didn't mean to."
"I- it's fine. Just… can we not do that again?"
"Sure, Mal. Never again. We'll even spit shake on it." Jay received a small smile.
"Friends?"
"Friends."
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading this story! | f39d5ff2471647ab934e205ce640a4e7 | ['350cc974b61f4cd38ebe64863e8399e2'] |
1. Cookies
"Didn't your mom ever bake you cookies when you're sad?"
I wish.
Being the daughter of the oh so famous tremble at her name Maleficent wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy. And after a while, there was only so much destruction that could be done to the island before we - as its citizens - felt the effects. When I was younger, and before I sparked my friendship with Evie, Carlos, and Jay, 'Queen' Maleficent had her baby girl out, bringing income into the home not earned in the most moral ways.
I will never forgive her for that.
I would return to our little corner of the island ran mainly by rodents, crying and only here the words "How much did you get today?"
On the days I was too sore to 'get' anything, cookies were the last thing I got.
"It's different on the island."
Different indeed.
2. Jay
She met Jay first.
It was after a really rough day of being Mal. Whoever had the brilliant idea of forcing a nine-year-old girl to live with the evilest things on the planet really needed a psych evaluation.
Cradling her freshly wounded arm, Mal's eyes were downcast. Even though no portion of the island was considered 'nice', the area Maleficent and her precious child made camp was the roughest.
Please don't notice me. Please don't talk to me. Please -
Her thoughts were cut off by a force plowing her into the mud. If her arm wasn't broken before, it certainly was now.
"Sorry!" The force said, picking her up off the cobblestone road.
Finally actually looking at the figure - boy - she noticed he wasn't much older than herself. Matted brown hair hung below his shoulder and was held back by a rust-colored bandana.
Before she could reply, a heavyset man Mal recognized as one of her more gentle customers came running around the corner.
Not wanting to stick around, the boy grabbed her uninjured arm and took off running toward the center of town. Mal's limbs flailing behind, trying to keep up.
The pain of her injuries made her eyes burn with unshed tears.
Following the boy behind a huge stock of potatoes from Auradon, the only food given to them by their home country, they watched as the man ran straight past them. Waiting in heavy silence, the noise of the bustling criminals drowned out the sound of the pair's heavy breathing.
"Sorry to drag you into that little fiasco." The boy said. "I'm Jay!" He grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.
"Mal." She looked down at her arm and winced. How was she to earn money if she was a broken toy? Her mother was not going to like that.
'Well, Mal, how about I take you to my house?" Jay asked, standing up as much as possible in their hiding place. "My dad is Jafar and he knows tons of ways to fix that arm of yours."
After a brief moment of hesitation, Mal stood up as well, taking Jay's outstretched hand into her own.
"After you, my prince."
3. Evie
Evie was always around.
The Evil Queen and Maleficent were friends since they were little villains in training. With names literally describing their personalities, it was no wonder that the two fugitives did everything together.
Both criminals got pregnant around the same time with The Evil Queen discovering first. A beautiful baby girl with lips as red as a rose and ivory skin was born and a month and a half later, another damsel was born with flaming purple hair and a stony glare.
In the beginning, the toddlers were not keen on each other; The Evil Queen teaching to value beauty and Maleficent to value power.
It wasn't until perfect Evie witnessed Mal being thrown to a wall by a man thrice her size that the pale beaut realized that being the daughter of the evilest woman in the world did not earn you a reputation that keeps you safe.
Frozen in fear, Evie stood, waiting for Mal to fight back, to scream, to run away.
All of a sudden, a boy with shoulder length hair tied back with a bandana ran around the corner and took an object out of the man's pocket, giving Mal an opportunity to get away as her attacker took chase to the young boy.
After that day, Evie never mistook Mal's icy glare for malice. Mal was born into a hard life, and Evie was determined to make it a little better.
4. Carlos
Carlos was one of the strangest friends Mal ever acquired.
She had originally found him frequenting the strip of shops and booths the islanders had created; a place for buying and selling. He was a constant presence, talking to the adults or playing games with the children at all hours of the day. Mal was curious as to why he never seemed to go home. Even though Maleficent didn't particularly love her daughter, the wretch did ensure that Mal was fed and clothed… some days.
Ever since the newfound friendship with Jay and Evie, Ma has slowly slipped from her depressive state. She has finally had a chance to be a somewhat normal ten-year-old.
It was after a night of pleasing customers that Mal had passed the boy sitting on a stairwell. Jay, who had taken to walking her home after she had finished her job, noticed that her attention had shifted off of himself.
"Why don't you and I just go and talk to him?" Jay questioned. Mal quickly replied, "He'll think we're weird."
"He already thinks that. You've been staring at him for five minutes."
Mal flipped him off, earning a laugh for the boy sitting on the steps.
With a grunt of annoyance, Mal stomped across the street and plopped down on the step above where the boy was.
"Can I help you?" The boy asked, taking a large bite of his apple. |
71086a92db604a18b37db8984370751f | ['35264c60b4884141a987d759699b3750'] | Godhood
_I look like fucking sunshine on parade_ , the Dierne thought. _A fucking regular diamond-crusted silhouette_. The sun was blinding bright as the god stepped out of the sewer. Yeah, a sewer. _Lover, why?_ Thought the Dierne. _‘Meet me in a goddamned sewer’—how romantic!_ The god rolled his eyes. The Laetha was nowhere to be seen. Last night the Laetha had burned the Dierne raw with his touch—they had rolled in ecstasy through the tunnels—but now there was only disgusting-smelling muck lining these tunnels. The Dierne was never sure why he followed the Laetha to these strange meetings—well, aside from the burning in his chest that ached for the other god—purely and truly and irresistibly.
A memory from last night caught the Dierne’s attention and he almost forgave the Laetha. Whether the Laetha was a he, a she, both, neither, or something else entirely, the Dierne and the Laetha were like matching bookends—reflections of one another, yet perpetually facing opposite directions. It was like a shitty story where the lovers are aging in reverse, soaring through time with opposite polarity. But they stay lovers, despite it all. That’s what the Dierne thought of the strange relationship between his godly self and the shattered divinity that made up the Laetha’s shards.
In the shower, the Dierne saw the burns on his body. He let the hot water wash over him. Everywhere the Laetha had touched his skin burned beneath the water. The light was too bright, he decided, and when the Dierne got out of the shower, he flicked the light switch to ‘off’ and slipped into his clothes in the dark. Darkness was to the Dierne what air was to a human; he needed it to breathe. Maybe it reminded him of days he spent in the night sky, one of many stars sitting like proper crystals in a black velvet sky. Maybe it reminded him of falling.
Either way, everything in his past had spiraled outward, spinning and shifting toward where he was now. All his life, he’d been hurtling toward the Laetha—even when the Laetha led him to some bizarre places. And, yes, even to underground tunnels beneath the sewage system. Their elaborate dance may have seemed bizarre, but I guess that’s what you get when a fallen star falls in love with a firebird.
And, oh, how glorious was their reunion! Togetherness was ecstasy, and they took to the skies as giant birds. Together they were proud and strong and beautiful. Reunion restored the two of them, just as it restored the land of the West. Everything was okay when the Reunion sky was alight with blazing divine flame and brilliant star-fire. | 5cedfc98d81e47dca6bcfb8f0c159ce5 | ['35264c60b4884141a987d759699b3750'] |
1. the Hermit
When he stretched his arms toward the sky, feathers burst forth from his pores: jet black shining feathers that put the night sky to shame. Shifting his raven wings, the Darren took flight. It was no ordinary mode of transportation, but a mystical one. Flying as a bird was how the Darren traveled between realms. He left the bright world where he had been born of star-fall and entered a world where the people worshipped a single star that lit their world like a great flame. the Darren's star-heart smoldered in his chest, sublimely bright, and was quite unlike the larger Sun that shone down upon the human world. How different the humans were from fairies--they lacked horns, feathers, wings, claws, fur, fins, and they had no idea.
the Darren's vision shifted and morphed, changing until he found himself in the human world. It looked like the West in some ways, but not in _other_ ways, and it certainly didn't _feel_ like the West. He hid himself in the forest, deep in its heart where only hermits, mystics, and wild beasts entered. the Darren unfolded his black wings and the feathers fell to the forest floor and crumbled into embers. The god took on a human-like form, but he kept his ivory antlers on his head and his eyes that burned as red as lava. It was by these features that the humans the Darren had come to visit would recognize his divinity.
The god walked to a shelter in the woods made of branches, mud, and leaves. He let the bright light of Little Sun shine a little bit, and allowed a piece of his divine energy to brighten the air around the lean-to. A frightened, bewildered face emerged from the shelter and a human stumbled out into the light.
"For-Forgive me, I didn't know--" the hermit began, but the Darren silenced him with a gesture.
"What have you learned, living alone?" asked the Darren.
"Your grace, I have learned how hard it is to be among man, and how maddening it is to be without him."
the Darren nodded at these words.
"And what have you learned about peace?" asked the Darren.
"Your grace, I have learned that there is no peace without war, not even in the human soul."
And the Darren was unhappy. Because he forever sought the way to end suffering, but found that the more he pushed himself to be a god of peace, the more he was a god of justice. He thought of the lives he had taken--all justified by his divinity and by the Ophelene's--and he felt deeply troubled that there was no true answer. Truth, it was what he always dreamed of; it was what Little Sun was made of. And so he left the hermit and turned to Little Sun.
They floated together within the Darren's heart. It was a realm of bright light that lived within him. The rest of the Darren's heart was full of lava in the place of blood, but its core pulsed with Little Sun's light.
2. Little Sun
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> the Darren conferences with his aspect, Little Sun (representation of Truth and the star the Darren was created from).
"Truth*, you shine with a light unseen, but felt, for none can look upon you without slipping into blindness," said the Darren. Little Sun spun and pulsed with energy. The heart of the Darren was the soul of the star from which he had fallen. Oh, what a fall it was. To think it would lead along all those footsteps to where he was now? Who could have guessed? "Holy Truth*, tell me: what is your knowledge and wisdom?" the Darren asked.
"Oh Holy Wanderer, I am the compass ever pointing true," said Little Sun, and the Darren realized that within the blinding light of the star-heart, he had inherited the compass of his Holy Mother. What, then, did he inherit from his other parent, the boy-god of dreams, mirrors, and shadows? There was the rich well of fierce lava in his belly, alight by star-fire. His molten form was in constant motion, and yet the Darren--his compass ever true--brought stability to a bright heart and a steady hand to his mind.
He was a mix of contradictions. And yet here he was, questioning his very heart--surely there was something within him, perhaps the thing that kept him questioning, that was pure. Some soul perhaps. But all the Darren knew was Little Sun, Truth*, the Darrenesque, Doubt*, and the other fragments of his self. They were a bunch of pieces, each torn in a different direction. How could he guess at knowledge and stability when he was a cursed fragment, energies divine and otherwise mixing together in a chaotic jumble.
the Darren tried to understand. And maybe that was his weakness.
3. Earthbound Star
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> the Darren visits a human city.
Spinning spinning spinning, pulsing, beating, shivering... the Darren awakened to his reality shaking violently. He reached for his bird form, and as the ink black feathers erupted from his skin, the chaos around him began to realign itself. the Darren flapped his wings and soared through the void, a space of terrible darkness and light which consumed him when the Darren was lost in doubt.
It was a puddle on the ground that caught his attention. The spinning and swirling stopped, on this sidewalk puddle. the Darren could see the reflection of skyscrapers and lights in the water. He landed next to the puddle in the form of a crow. Folding his wings, the Darren looked to the sky. It was blank and pale grey, but silver buildings rose like angular teeth along the jagged skyline. |
2a3b6b5be854468e9a76c3b4ebb61eea | ['3554ab015c4e43ca82dd4d2c0c7fc5a5'] | Confidence [Mikasa x Female Reader]
"I can see you lack in confidence."
Those few words would forever be etched in (F/n) (L/n)'s mind. It wasn't anything to do with the meaning of them, but the pure truth laced through them. The (e/c) eyed girl did lack in her confidence department. It didn't help that who spoke those words did.
A small blush from embarrassment found it's way onto the girl's face as she mumbled a quiet, "Yeah, I guess..."
Mikasa looked blankly at her, but her gaze held kindness and concern, like she wasn't beating (F/n) down, merely helping the girl. "You'll be lifted off the ground in a moment. Remember to balance your weight evenly throughout your straps in your uniform. If you maintain that balance while shifting to keep it levelled, you should be good," Mikasa finished, walking calmly back to the lever that would lift (F/n) off her feet.
The day before, (F/n) was having some troubles with their balancing tasks; the one minor thing that would declare them as soldiers, yet she couldn't get the hang of it. Flustered and teary-eyed, (F/n) had nearly given up on her hopes to become a soldier worth something until a kind hand was offered. Mikasa had helped (F/n) get back on her feet, which lead the pair practicing before the cut.
(F/n) closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. With Mikasa's calm and cool attitude, (F/n) felt oddly at peace around the girl. Her mood rubbed off (F/n), calming her as well; lulling her into a state of bliss.
'I can do this. I can do anything.'
As the cords tugged at the (e/c) eyed girl's belt, she started to think over what Mikasa said. 'Just shift your weight and stay balanced, (F/n). You will do this.'
In a moment, she was lifted into the air as she proceeded to follow Mikasa's steps she had given (F/n). At first, due to her confidence level, she slipped a bit, only to be steadied by a pair of hands. (F/n) could feel her complexion heating up as she dared not to stutter out words.
"Calm you being, (F/n). Think of something calming. Relax your lower body and stiffen your upper body."
Mikasa's quiet yet oddly stern voice rippled through the air. With Mikasa's voice alone, (F/n) didn't need to think about anything calming, as her reality was right behind her. Mikasa's hands sat gently on (F/n)'s waist, steadying her out as (F/n) balanced.
(F/n)'s being shivered slightly at the other girl's touch. She swallowed and focused ahead of her, sweat droplets rolling off her forehead. Mikasa seemed to notice, lulling soft words of encouragement to the balancing girl.
Mikasa's hands left (F/n)'s waist as (F/n) balanced perfectly, her form perfect, her balance on spot, and her confidence level.
The teen's body didn't quiver in the least. Her mind's doubtful thoughts had been long forgotten. Everything was a bliss as she passed a small milestone to becoming a soldier.
Mikasa gently let (F/n) off the balancer, unclipping the cords from her waist. (F/n) flinched a tiny bit at Mikasa's soft fingertips.
"Mikasa...?"
"Yes?"
"I want to thank you...Without you, I would've uh- failed..."
There was a small silence before Mikasa spoke gently towards (F/n).
"I'll always be here to boost your confidence, (F/n). Now let's get you inside and ready for dinner."
(F/n)'s face flushed at Mikasa's gentle and kind words. The short haired girl calmly engulfed (F/n)'s hand with her own and wordlessly led her inside.
(F/n) knew that deep down Mikasa was her calm thought. No, Mikasa was her reality. | fc8d58eb7fa94703998266daecc78cf7 | ['3554ab015c4e43ca82dd4d2c0c7fc5a5'] |
Touch [Levi x Reader]
Oh, how bad (F/n) (L/n) wanted to be able to feel.
Sure, she could feel pain in her heart when insulting words were casually casted her way. She could feel pain when her comrades died from the brutality from those beasts that humanity fought seemingly endlessly, the titans. People would say that (F/n) was an important part of the Survey Corps since she could not feel physical pain, that she could get her limbs torn apart yet keep fighting. She wanted to beat those people inside out, the ones that thought she was a piece of meat, useful because she gave them what they wanted.
But despite the major cons of feeling pain, all she wanted: all she desperately wanted was to feel. To be able to feel the rough but smooth texture of the rocks, to feel the wind bend and swirl through her fingertips, to feel the smooth surface of her sword and to feel the wind run through her hair as she sailed throughout the skies with her 3DM gear.
Every day sine the incident, she would desperately touch anything she could reach. Her fingertips would smother over the covers of books and run down the walls of her sleeping chamber. Her body would always tingle: as if it too was working to feel what she wanted to feel. As if it was on the edge of feeling, yet pulled back.
Tears would unknowingly cascade down her face daily as she tried to hopelessly grab something. Though she couldn't feel it directly, the pain in her heart was undeniably there, signalling that tears were there. She almost had her own way of feeling now. By reading the expressions of peoples' faces and trusting her gut. But even that never payed off much. She tried to get used to her other senses to help her touch. Whenever she sat beside a stream, her ears would perk up and her sight would kick in. The way the water flowed smoothly over rocks and rippled across indents engraved in the ground. When she put all of these together she could faintly create a feeling for it. But even so, it was like waking from a dream. You could faintly remember it: but you could never grasp onto it long enough to truly remember it.
And that's what she hated.
She had wallowed in her sorrow for too long. Thinking she was just a use for the Survey Corps like a piece of meat. It definitely piled up on her shoulders, weighing her self-esteem down and affecting her train of thought. Her mind would wander to things she should never have thought of, like 'Would I be missed if I died?' 'Am I really strong enough to be in the Survey Corps?' 'Do I deserve a life?' Those horrifying thoughts raced through her mind and twisted through her remaining happy thoughts. Her expression became weaker and paler. Her eyes became sunken and dark circles were firmly placed under them.
Unfortunately, Captain Levi also noticed this. He had never listened to Petra's calls towards him, warning him that (F/n) might be in a hard position and suffering from possible depression. He had never seen anything wrong with her besides her loss of touch, but then again: he had never really known her. Levi Ackerman never really bothered to get to know anyone, so it must have been casual for his gaze to flicker over (F/n)'s appearance and move on.
But one day, he finally noticed when he was giving out chores for the squads including his own.
(F/n)'s fingertips were scabbed. Her eyes were even more lifeless than usual, and her arms were obviously weak as she couldn't raise them properly to salute. She didn't even seem to be alive, and it was hard to pass.
Levi gave her a hard look to try and sort out what was happening, then spoke.
"Scout (F/n)," he drawled towards (F/n) without any emotion in his tone.
"Y-yes sir!" (F/n) said weakly.
Levi noticed that her arms' skin was slightly torn in places and that her elbows didn't bent correctly...Was she lifting weights all night? Levi doubted it. There must have been something going on with her that she hadn't said yet, besides the fact that she may have been hurt from not being able to touch. Had he taken that sense for granted? Levi could only wonder how miserable life would be like if he lost the ability to touch...to feel.
He inwardly sighed and trained his steely gaze on (F/n) once again. "Sweeping for you," he informed her. (F/n) twisted her eyebrows in confusion. "Shouldn't I get a harder chore?" she asked the Captain with a quizzical look embedded on her face.
"I feel like going easy on you. Don't question it." He muttered, deciding not to call her 'brat', which he knew could hurt her seeing her in this terrible state.
Said girl nodded , turning on her heel to retrieve a broom. Levi's gaze followed her as she walked. There was something up. And by all means, Levi Ackerman was going to find out about what was happening and what her thoughts were.
Why?
Because he didn't want someone he loved to feel this type of endless and un-escapable pain.
~*******~
Evening had arrived for (F/n).
She dreaded the night. She would try so hard to gain back that one sense. Her dreams would be filled with her being able to touch, but even in her dreams, she could never grasp it. Currently, the girl was sitting on her bed, her head resting on her hands that were propped up on her knees. Quiet sobs shook her body. She guessed that tears were tumbling from her eyes from the feeling in her gut. |
db5d98d9523c430bb952d8e8e66df825 | ['355990c197114f62a6e6659dac620d1b'] | He'd woken up the next day to a voicemail from a distraught Seyong, telling him that Chaejin had disappeared from his bed in the middle of the night, and a slow realisation had dawned on Hakyeon that the nightmare was only just beginning.
Hongbin had disappeared barely a week later. He'd been in the garden taking photos of budding flowers with Hakyeon watching from the living room window, smiling proudly and nodding in approval whenever Hongbin showed him the photos he'd taken. And when Jaehwan had yelled for Hakyeon from the kitchen, Hakyeon had turned around, for only the briefest of moments. But by the time he'd turned back, Hongbin was long gone, his camera sitting sadly in the middle of the garden, the only trace of him having been in the garden at all.
Hakyeon had rushed out, panic bubbling in his chest as he screamed for Hongbin. When the search had turned up empty, he’d torn through the house, frantically flinging open doors and checking every corner until Taekwoon had yanked him into a bone-crushing hug, trapping him in his embrace until the strength bled out of him and he fell limp in his arms.
“Why,” he’d wailed, his voice punctuated by hiccuping sobs, “why Hongbin.”
Surprisingly, it'd been Sanghyuk who'd comforted him the most. He'd sat down next to him on the couch and pulled him into an awkward but strangely warm hug, whispered gentle words of comfort and hope, with all the childlike naivety of a young boy. He'd told him to believe that Hongbin would come back one day, because he loved them and they loved him, and Hakyeon had believed it.
But Sanghyuk had disappeared too, one month later, and Hakyeon had sunk back into despair upon seeing two empty beds every morning.
Summer had brought two policemen who detained Wonshik for suspicion of perpetrating the disappearances, and none of them could do anything to stop it. Autumn's maple leaves had significantly fewer people to view them, and by winter there was barely anyone left. The streets were as barren as the trees that flanked them, and all Hakyeon could do was watch through the windows as the snow fell and melted and fell again.
He doesn't register the wetness staining his cheeks until Taekwoon pulls him into a hug, fingers tangling in his hair and holding him close. Everything comes rushing out of him in stuttering sobs, and he clutches Taekwoon's shirt, buries his face in his shoulder, and cries.
He cries for the friends he's lost, for the life he once had, for the city that used to be whole but now lies in pieces, shattered fragments of its former self. He cries for all the words he'll never get to say, for all the things he should've done while he still could, for all the happy memories that will soon fade with the passing of time.
And when he’s cried his throat raw, he lets himself sink into Taekwoon's broad chest and strong arms. Lets himself soak in Taekwoon’s warmth, breathe in Taekwoon’s scent. Taekwoon smells of morning dew and freshly washed laundry. Smells of home.
It’s only when he feels himself losing his balance that he realises Taekwoon’s disappearing from beneath him, a memory fading back into the recesses of his mind.
“No, no, don’t go,” he sobs, voice cracking, “please, Taekwoon, don’t go, _don’t leave me!_ "
Panicking, he reaches up in a frenzy to touch Taekwoon’s face, fingertips skimming over his skin, trying to memorise the contours and angles of Jung Taekwoon. He traces the curve of his eyebrows, brushes over the slope of his cheekbones, feels the stickiness of sweat and the slight bump of a pimple just shy of swelling.
He barely gets to his jaw before he’s grasping thin air.
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon whimpers, voice raw and quaking, “Taekwoon, don't go…”
But Taekwoon is long gone, and all Hakyeon’s left with is a painfully empty house. | 4aa9c8ad5bf9455bb546499dd90b340b | ['355990c197114f62a6e6659dac620d1b'] |
nothing gold can stay
**Author's Note:**
> first fic of the year and it's vixx angst. way to go norika
> this is my first series, so i hope it turns out alright, and that i have enough time this year to write and update regularly! you can yell at me on LINK if i don't, or leave me questions on my LINK. or you can comment here. please let me know what you think and i hope you enjoy the fic!!
He watches as the snow falls in a blur, occasionally streaking against the window, forming patterns on the glass. Outside, the little space they call their front yard is blanketed in a layer of white, fluffy snow, which flies up in little flurries as Hongbin flops onto his back. Wonshik trips and falls onto him and they roll around in the snow together, and then suddenly he’s there too, sitting on the newly painted swing, watching Jaehwan and Sanghyuk make snow angels, throwing clumps of snow at Taekwoon and laughing and—
—and then the scrape of a chair’s legs against wood snaps him out of the reverie, the boys disappearing as the memory fades away, the front yard melting back into the dreary sight he’s been staring at for hours. The ground is dry and the trees are bare and the swing is rickety, its paint faded and chipped. The window he’s staring through is covered with a layer of grime and he belatedly realises that it’s ajar, the frigid winter cold biting into his fingers.
There’s no one outside. Hakyeon blinks, slowly, once, twice. He doesn’t want to move, partly because his joints are stiff and his limbs are weak, and partly because he wants to keep watch until the boys return. Wants to wait until he knows for sure that they’re safe. But he’s also curious, so he tears his gaze away from the window and fixes it on the source of the noise.
It’s Taekwoon, staring straight at him from across the table, his face betraying no shred of emotion. Hakyeon doesn’t understand, so he doesn’t say anything, simply stares blankly back.
The silence is stifling, and Hakyeon finally snaps, offers up a disgruntled “what?”, voice raspy from disuse. Taekwoon continues to stare at him, unblinking, until Hakyeon finally averts his gaze, unable to bear it any longer. He studies the tabletop instead, counting every scratch.
He’s gotten to the fifty-seventh one when Taekwoon takes his hand, tugging it insistently, and Hakyeon looks up at him confusedly, not having realised that he’d stood up. Taekwoon tugs again, and Hakyeon shakes his head forlornly.
“I can’t, Taekwoon, I have to wait for them to return,” he murmurs, looking up into Taekwoon’s eyes, searching for the barest shred of agreement. But Taekwoon’s eyes are unwavering, unceding, and Hakyeon slumps back into his chair.
It’s futile. He knows that, doesn’t need Taekwoon to remind him. But he’s always been stubborn, always been unwilling to give up, always cared about others a little too much for his own good. Always clings to the very last strand of hope, even when it frays in his hands and threatens to give way. And now, even when the hours melt into days and months and time becomes unquantifiable, he can't allow himself to stop hoping. That would mean moving on without them, and it's too definite, feels too much like admitting that they're never coming back. That he'll never see them again.
God, he misses them. Misses Jaehwan's boisterous laugh, misses Wonshik's terrible fashion sense, misses Hongbin's sass and even Sanghyuk's constant teasing. But most of all, he misses Taekwoon's smile, previously rare, now nonexistent.
He can't help but wish the city could go back to how it used to be, before it fell to ruins and people started disappearing into thin air, out of sight one moment and then gone forever.
Hakyeon had always considered himself lucky to have a large circle of friends, for it had meant that he'd always have someone to share a morning coffee with, always have someone to cycle along the river with when the house got too stifling, always have someone to talk to when the nights got lonely. But it had soon become more of a curse than a blessing, for he'd had to watch as his friends disappeared, one by one, until he was the only one left.
The first disappearance still has him jolting awake in the middle of the night, screams lodged in his throat and cold sweat beading at his hairline. He'd been walking down the street with Eunji, on the way home from the cinema. She'd taken a quick detour to buy snacks and strawberry milk, offering up a sheepish grin and telling Hakyeon to wait for her at the intersection. He'd grumbled, scrunching up his nose, but he'd complied all the same, and she'd yelled "Be right back!" and turned into a side street.
She never returned, and Hakyeon no longer remembers what movie they'd watched or what she'd been wearing or what he'd said to her before she left, but he remembers standing there for hours and hours. Remembers the suffocating fear, his anxiety steadily growing as the number of passers-by dwindled till he'd been standing alone in the dark, silent street, with only his fear to keep him company. He'd heard of people disappearing but he'd never thought it'd be anyone he knew, had never thought it would hit so close to home, and his mind had been a mess of _where is she why is this happening is she safe is she hurt what should i do please let her come back_. He'd sunk down into a crouch when his legs grew tired, hugging his knees to his chest and crying in shallow, shaky breaths, until Taekwoon came to look for him, to piggyback him home and tuck him into bed. |
7b395ebe9fda4cc18c670ab0699242c6 | ['355b502637e44bf39478dc888eff712e'] |
Longtime no see
“Hi, Quinn”
Shocked. It was the only word that she could use to describe how she felt at the moment. Completely shocked, because the last person she expect to see behind her wooden house door was _her._
She’d completely forgot the insults she hissed at the person disturbing her relaxing time on the couch with book and cup of coffee when she look into those warm and of so beautiful eyes of her first and true love. She remembered the last time, two years back when she looked in those stunning eyes… but they were different back then, still beautiful but the warm was replace by hurt and flooded by sea of tears.
“Santana”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
_ Two years ago _
__
_“I’m going to miss you so much” – brunette girl cried out into her friend shoulder._
_“I will miss you too, San” - voice cracking as the massive lump build up in her throat._
_That’s it. It’s time… but she is not ready, not yet._
_She thought she was. She was emotionally preparing herself for this day for months now. But that went for nothing as she can’t control the tears which start blurring her vision and then when they finally fall, leaving her cheeks wet with salty liquid._
_They probably look like fools, standing in the middle of the airport, sobbing hysterically and hugging for probably quite long time right now. But she don’t really care, because she is standing here, hugging her best friend which is oblivious to the fact that she is the most important person in Quinn’s life. That she’s the one and only for her. And now she needs to say goodbye to her, knowing that she will never be hers and being unaware of when she will be seeing her again._
_When they finally pulled apart, Quinn’s breath hitched and new tears was created in her eyes as she look in her friend eyes which were fill with hurt and tears._
_“I promised you that I will contact you every week and any other free time” – she said with breaking voice and add – “I love you”_
_Blond heart skipped a beat when she hears those three words she was longing to hear most of her life. But she knew that the meaning behind these words were fully platonic._
_They hugged one last time and Quinn whisper “I love you too, San” into Latina neck. They parted and brunette despaired in crowd of people going to the airplane._
_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_
Two hours after shocking appear of Santana on her doorstep, she’d found herself in fancy restaurant sitting opposite the brunette.
She couldn’t help herself looking at the Latina in front of her when she was giving their order to the waiter. She was still as much stunning as she remember her.
Chocolate brown eyes in which she can stare for forever, her soft caramel coloured skin, locks of raven black hair which fall down on her shoulders and around her face framing it beautifully, her smile showing set of white and straight teeth and the cute dimples in her cheeks… and her oh so kissable plump lips.
But she can’t allow her beauty and the still lingering love for the girl to brainwash her, because she have questions which she need to know answers to.
She’d pulled her gaze away from the brunette to regain control over her.
“Quinn, I missed you so much” – was said softly to her. And then she remembers what she went through.
She snapped her gaze back at the Latina.
“What are you doing here Santana?” – She asked harshly. The tone of her voice clearly shocked the other girl.
“I missed you so I come to see you” – respond Latina as it was the most obvious thing to say in the whole entire world.
She laughed bitterly as she felt the anger boiling inside of her.
“Oh, so you missed me so much that for one fucking year I didn’t receive any call, text, nothing!” – She snapped – “Do you even imagine how I felt back then? I was devastated and so fucking hurt, I didn’t know what was going on, I thought that something bad happened to you and I couldn’t do anything to help you!” – She said loudly.
Hurt and anger tears pouring into her eyes. She looked at Santana. Hurt and something else… something like embarrassment was written on her face. She also notices brown eyes which start to glisten from the tears. After seeing her love like that she regrets snapping at the Latina.
“Quinn, please let me explain that, please” – she looked in blond haired girl eyes. She just manages to nod. – “I really wanted to contact you, I really does. But I had reason for not contacting you… it may seem really stupid but it was keeping me from calling you. I… - she paused, suddenly embarrassed at how stupid it will sound.
“San?”
“I’ve lost my phone” – she whispered loud enough for Quinn to hear, dropping her head in embarrassment.
“Wait, so you are telling me that we didn’t have ANY contact just because you lost you damn phone? Oh, come on Santana, you know my phone number by heart!”
Brunette finally lifts her head looking in Quinn’s eyes.
“That’s the problem, I called you Quinn, I fucking called so many times I lost count on it! But every time I was greet with ‘this number is out of service’!” – It was known Latina’s turn to snap.
Her eyes widen in realisation. That’s right, over a year ago she change her phone and she had new number. She was sure that she’d send the new contact details to Santana… but it was probably when she lost he phone. | 9cb5d3126e6e44d197456c45a83c1c5c | ['355b502637e44bf39478dc888eff712e'] | Not long after Sue thrown the bouquet, you notice Rachel and Finn stepping onto the stage to perform. You recognize the song straight away, it one of your mums favourite. You get so lost in the soft and slow melody that you didn’t even see when Quinn moved to stand in front of you with soft smile and extended hand toward you asking if she may have this dance. After all this glances, touches and flirting you are not even surprise anymore that she want to slow dance with you. You smile back at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor and into you. You felt her arms slipped around your waist, tying her hand together on your lower back just above your bum. You felt her pulling you even closer to her making you atomically tighter your arms which are placed around her neck. You felt shiver run down your spine and the hair rise on the back of your neck when her finger glaze on and on over the bare skin of your back, and the soft breath on your ear and neck. You like the feeling as you sway to the sweet melody, feeling the long buried feeling for the blond girl coming back full force. You heard Quinn take small but shaky intake of breath which sounded like she want to say something but she don’t know if she should. Finally when she said that she never slowed dance with a girl before, you can help but lean backward little bit away from her so you can look her in the eye trying to figure out why she said it. You didn’t need to look for too long as she answer that question herself with soft “I like it” while looking in your eyes and the pulling you back into her. You can feel her smile on your shoulder where her head rest while you keep dancing.
You get lost again in the feeling of having her so close to you that you get startled little bit as she softly sings into your ear.
_So there it is girl, I've said it all now_
_And here we are babe, what do you say?_
_We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?_
_We've got tonight babe_
_Why don't you stay?_
This time she pulled away little bit to look you in the eye. You couldn’t believe what she just said to you. When she repeats the “Do you want to go out of here?” once more, you didn’t know what to say, so you just nod you head. She grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with hers and pulled you in the direction of the lobby and the rooms.
Did she mean by that, what you think she mean?
Your doubt was cleared she decide to pull you into her and placed one, soft kiss upon your lips. It was the simplest but the sweetest kiss which you ever received but still she managed to turn your legs into a jelly. So when she separated your lips from yours with a smile on her face and pulled you one more in the way of the rooms you can help back trip little bit which leaves you both in fit of laughter.
You two managed to crush into the walls few times before you get into the room.
As soon as the doors closed behind you, you were pinned to the door and Quinn’s lips on yours. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but quickly changing into the heated, passionate one which make your eyes roll to the back of your head. Teeth clash, tongues fighting for dominance and hand roaming over each other bodies soon after transformed into ripping the dressed off their bodies and licking and sucking your neck which leaves you shaking from arousal and loud moan escaping your lips. Quinn happy with her work on your neck which leaves you will big purple hickey, unattached her mouth from you to look at you. You moan when you see her almost black pupils and the flushed cheeks, and heaving chest. She pulls you in to her again by the back of your neck, clashing your mouth together once more. You didn’t even know when she managed to pull you away from the door and move to the bed, throwing you on top of it, strangling your hips.
Soon after both of you is naked admiring each other beauty. Her confident presence deflect little bit when she tried to cover herself when your gaze landed on her stomach which was decorated with few faded post pregnancy stretch marks. You told her to not do it, because you she is beautiful. After that her predatory presence come back full swing and she latch her mouth onto your nipple, one of her hand squeezing your other boobs and her other hand slowly creeping down your abdomen to the wetness between your legs making you moan as never before. You soon followed her idea and placed one of your hands behind her neck to guide her mouth back to your kissing her passionately and placing your other over her sex, teasing her clit slowly with circular motion. You swallowed her moan while you kiss. Moment later both of you decide that you need more which end up pushing two fingers in each other, establishing the perfect rhythm. She broke the kiss as one very loud moan escape her mouth, but she never did attached her lips back to yours. She kept looking at your face and into your eyes as she pump her fingers in and out of your and while you did the same to you. You both kept watching each other as you both was pushed over the edge the same time, coming together hard, shouting each other names.
After when you come back from your high and was lying covered with sheets you can’t help but to look at her. At her flushed cheeks, tangled and sticking out hair making you realize that she is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever met… and also making you realize that you just slept with Quinn, the girl you are in love with and the straightest girl in the planet which just probably slept with you because she wanted to experiment.
You worries were confirmed when she said to you that she knows now why the college girls experiment. You tried to hide the hurt from her words with little chuckled and “And thanks God they do”. You felt like crying when she told you that it a one-time thing for her. But you don’t want to lose your best friend so you come up with some cheesy line to make her worries go away. But you can help to check what will happen so you told her that she have to options, that she can leave or make it a two time things, after she asked you what will happened next. You are ready for rejection; you feel the tears staring to gather up at the back of your eyes. But they never fell as Quinn shocked you once more with one sentence leaving her mouth “Why don’t we make it a regular thing?”
But you don’t know what you suppose to say. Did she really want to by a fuck buddy with you? You really wanted to have a sexual relationship with her, but you are not sure if you will survive it as you are already deeply in love with this girl.
You with that she is able to read your mind as her expression softens and she asked you to go out with her. You could only chocked out “What?” She smiled at you explaining that she always had feeling for you, but she never been brave enough to admit it to you and ask you out, and finally when she find courage Brittany took you away. But after she finds out that you and Brittany went through unofficial break-up she decides to win you back. You were shocked as she told you that there a no professor, that she made it up so she can make you jealous.
All the pieces finally start to fit together. The looks, smiles, touches…
You agreed to the date. And after all this time you finally felt truly happy, you finally get your girl you love.
xxx
That was years ago and today at your fifth anniversary you going to get down on one knee hoping she say yes. |
3f485c3980124f1e96aafd677f93b614 | ['35775d5a76e04e0cb4ea7b5a65d81083'] |
Long Time Coming
**Author's Note:**
> This is the result of me spending way too much time pondering what Dan said about the inspiration behind TABINOF.
“Phil.”
“Hold on. Let me set this light up first .”
“Phil.”
“Just a second.”
“Phil!”
Hearing Dan’s raised voice, Phil finally left the giant light alone and gave his stubborn boyfriend a questioning look. “What?”
With his srs bsnss expression on, the 25 year-old said “I think they’re ready.”
Phil was confused. They were about to film PINOF8. He had been setting everything up while Dan took control of picking the questions and preparing the sharpie (because that’s an actual serious part of their filming process). What was Dan talking about? What was ready? The questions? The fans? The set up?
He must have conveyed his confusion very clearly on his face because Dan immediately explained. “The Phangirls, Phil. Our viewers. I think they’re ready for the truth.”
“Oh.”
Phil was stunned. Of course he knew what “truth” Dan was referring to. They had literally been talking about this for years now. They didn’t bring it up very often but it was always a constant presence in their life.
The truth about their relationship.
After the disaster that was 2012, when they fought so badly that they decided to take a break for a few months, Dan and Phil discussed what they wanted to do and how they were going to move forward in excruciating details. Phil didn’t particularly care whether or not they come out to the internet but absolutely insisted on telling every single person they could trust to keep secrets. He didn’t want them to go out of their way to hide it, either.
Dan just wanted them to be together and be happy.
At the time, he was convinced that coming out would ruin their career and, frankly, Phil had to admit he had a point. However, Dan was also convinced that they wouldn’t be able to hide forever and they both admitted that they didn’t want to. So they formulated a plan.
Dan was to be the one responsible for everything. Phil never said a word about any of it from the beginning and both of them wanted to keep it that way. Dan, however, had said way too many. He had to make up for his mistakes but he needed to do it gradually. People can’t change in just one day, after all.
He started simple; stopped proclaiming that he was straight, treated Phil like an actual human being on camera again, allowed himself to leave in some slightly suspicious physical contacts and looks in their videos, things like that.
The fans were ecstatic. They were too cautious to be blunt about it but they were all glad Dan finally got his head out of his ass. Things were looking up and they had so many wonderful opportunities waiting for them.
As time passed, Dan tried to slip in some more hints. Stuffs about his sexuality, some domestic anecdotes, a few cheeky likes here and there.
Starting their gaming channel was an official announcement to their fans that “We are okay and we are staying together.”
Even after all those years, the positive responses they received were still overwhelming. Dan knew it was a big step toward their goal and he was so very grateful that their fans had been more supportive and loyal than ever.
Somewhere along the way, they also decided to write a book.
Dan contemplated the inevitability of the end way too often to be healthy, everybody knew that. But now that they were planning to do something that could potentially affect their life drastically, that ending seemed nearer and scarier than ever. He needed to deal with it somehow.
The book and the tour were the answer. The book would be something physical, like carving their name into stones, something to prove that at one point in time Dan and Phil existed in this world.
The tour was mostly Phil’s active imagination and Dan’s perfectionist tendency at play. They knew they would do a tour for the book. Every Youtuber and their mother did one, it was obligatory. And they wanted to meet as many of their fans as they could anyway, to bring them as much happiness as possible. Dan felt unsatisfied with just a normal book tour, though. Going around the world just to sign books and take photos didn’t seem right to him.
So Phil came up with an idea. They could do an actual stage performance tour; something massive, something worth people’s time, and most importantly, something them. Dan was skeptical at first, but when they actually tried to figure out the logistic for it and realized it was possible, he was more than excited. Despite giving up the dream of becoming an actor a long a time ago, he still missed the feeling of performing on stage sometimes. This whole process ignited passions in him, old and new.
They didn’t have any particular talent or skill to work with, but they gave everything they got and it worked out beautifully. Their fans loved it. Their friends congratulated them on their success. Dan and Phil just smiled and thanked them, knowing they had yet to succeed in their ultimate goal.
Now, 4 years after it all started, Dan seemed to think it was finally time for the final step.
Phil might have been expecting it. What with all the blatant clues they were both dropping in the past year. They already agreed that it would be Dan’s call so he didn’t worry too much and waited for Dan to make the decision. Which Dan just did.
They stared at each other for a while, trying to figure out whether or not they were really okay with this. Then Phil smiled brightly and plopped down on his bed next to Dan.
“Let’s do this then.” | f7393bb6fece45a38768b1db48e49746 | ['35775d5a76e04e0cb4ea7b5a65d81083'] |
Sweet Dream
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this before 3b started but didn't really feel like posting it until now (probably because I have recently run out of ways to procrastinate). So this is no longer canon compliant. Hope you guys like it.
>
> This is un-beta. I will be back to fix grammar mistakes and things like that later because I really need to get to work now. DAMN IT I can't wait until I finish high school URGH
He left without saying goodbye.
The second day on the road, his phone vibrated and the screen lit up, a number he never saved but remember all too well written on it. Derek pulled over and stared at it for almost 10 seconds---trying to think of what to say and unable to---then picked up.
Stiles didn’t talk like he used to, in fact, he didn’t talk at all. Both of them just stayed silent, listening to each other breathing. _They were still breathing._ That was more than he could ever ask for.
After another minute had passed, Stiles finally spoke. “I don’t want to lose you.”
His voice was calm and steady, the way it always was whenever he felt broken. Derek hated it.
_You always have me._ Derek found himself wanting to say. But he couldn’t, because it wasn’t true, not anymore.
Then Stiles hanged up, and he hadn’t called again ever since.
-*-*-*-
It took Scott three weeks, before he finally felt desperate enough to call Derek. Cora picked his phone up for him while he was making them dinner. It was his phone, so he shamelessly listened in. Cora asked him about everyone and Scott answered. Probably knowing Derek was listening, he told them about his pack, about how Lydia was experimenting with her newfound power, how Isaac had moved in to live with the McCalls, how Allison had officially joined her family business to fight along side her father. And then he told them about Stiles.
It took Derek one day to get back.
He left the car with Cora and caught the first flight back to California. No one actually knew he was coming, so he took a bus that got him nearest to Beacon Hills and ran the rest of the way to the Stilinskis’ house. It was almost midnight when he got there but the light in Stiles’ room was still on. Derek stayed in the shadow, listened to Stiles’ thunderous heartbeat and the endless stream of words coming from his mouth while he muttered to himself about things he was working on.
This. It was something Derek was used to. He spent an awfully lot of time keeping an eye out for Stiles--like this--in the past year.
_Lurking, you were totally lurking outside my window, Derek. Admit it._
Suddenly, he remembered how he had scowled at him when he said that, how Stiles had grinned back and made jokes about watchdogs, how Derek shut him up with a kiss. Derek shuddered with the memory.
He let three hours passed before climbing up to the window.
By then Stiles had already passed out, head resting on his laptop, and lips parting slightly. His whole body collapsed against the desk in a supposedly uncomfortable position. There was a brief moment he spent hesitating, doubting would Stiles locked his window when the only person to ever climb through it was supposed to be gone, before he pushed at it and found it unlocked.
Derek slipped inside then spent another ten minutes letting everything sink in. He glanced around the room and found that Stiles had redecorated; his bed was now pressed to the wall, posters were replaced by photos, pieces of newspapers and maps, and his desk had its side to the window. The room smelled different too. The mix of dirt and cinnamon that was Stiles’ natural scent was still lingering but there were new scent, like sweat and the salty smell of tears.
_Fear._ He realized.
Right at that moment Stiles started twitching on the chair, his face contorted into a scowl, his hand gripping the armrest. He muttered a sentence, over and over again, and when Derek took a step toward him, he flinched.
Stiles stopped flinching when Derek approaches him months ago.
Derek thought of going back to Arizona, leaving this town and his past far behind. He thought about telling Scott that he couldn’t help Stiles, that he wasn’t trusted anymore.
Then he thought of Claudia Stilinski and the fact that she wasn’t here to protect her family, and he took another step forward.
He lifted Stiles off his chair, cradled him in his arm while he carried the boy back to his bed. Now that Derek had Stiles’ mouth pressed to his left ear, he could make out what Stiles was saying.
_“Where are you?”_
Stiles was probably dreaming about his parents, or maybe Scott, but Derek answered anyway. “I’m right here, Stiles. I’m right here.”
That startled him awake. He flailed dangerously in Derek’s arms and after the three seconds it took Derek to realize Stiles was struggling to break free, he let him go. He felt a dull ache in his chest, looking at Stiles’ horrified expression, but he ignored it.
Stiles landed messily on the bed, looked up at Derek, and slapped himself.
Derek bolted forward just in time to stop the second hit, he grabbed Stiles’ wrists and pulled them around his neck. He used one hand to keep them there and the other to wrap around Stiles’ waist and pull them closer. He kept whispering “Shhh. I’m right here. It’s okay. We’re okay I’m right here…” in Stiles’ ears and he could feel the struggling drained out after a few minutes.
When Derek pulled back to look him in the eyes, he only saw sadness and resignation.
“Please, let me wake up.” |
e641e85a97c54f8cbcd2c6ec8feae3fc | ['357f758113654291bb14fa6741b60195'] | As the class continued and Ivan tried to avoid eye contact with Alfred, he started noticing little things about the all american poster boy. He noticed how Alfred knew all the answers but didn’t say them out loud unless he was called on. He noticed how Alfred was quite and not at all loud like he expected him to. He noticed that Alfred’s glowing blonde hair was probably bleached. He noticed that despite Alfred’s nice body build, he was meek. He didn’t talk to anyone else in the class and not once turned to look at Ivan once.
By the time class bell rung, Ivan had wasted all his time at staring at Alfred instead of doing his work.
After that incident every stereotype Ivan had about the US broke into pieces and it was all because of one chemistry class with Alfred.
Ivan worked hard to learn English. Not because he genuinely needed to learn but because Ivan wanted to know enough English to hold a conversation with Alfred at least once.
For Ivan, everything about Alfred intrigued him. He spent almost all his free time at school staring at Alfred. When he wasn’t at school and wasn’t able to observe Alfred, Ivan thought about him. Thought about how it would feel to run his hands through Alfred’s hair and maybe feel his muscles that looked like they were carved by gods.
Alfred was Ivan’s god.
He would bow down on the ground Alfred walked on.
“Are we going?” Alfred asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. The quicker he was at prom then the faster he could leave and forget it ever happened.
“Da-ehh yes” Ivan said. He shook his head to get out of his daze and quickly got into the driver’s seat.
It was a silent drive to the High School gymnasium where their junior prom was being held. They didn’t talk, there was really nothing to talk about. Ivan still didn’t know enough English to hold a conversation (he mostly learned how to ask Alfred to prom, he was still working on how to actually have a conversation)
Alfred didn’t talk because all he could think about was seeing him dancing and having a grand time with someone that wasn’t him. Alfred was trying to erase those thoughts to try and enjoy his prom night (even if it was for a little bit). He was trying his best for Ivan. Even though he didn’t know Ivan, he didn’t want to feel responsible for Ivan having a horrible prom.
They arrived at their high school and Alfred couldn’t help but feel butterflies. He really wished he could be at home reading the latest issue of his favorite comic. Hell, he would even be fine with staying home cleaning his room. Anything if it meant he didn’t have to confront his worst fears, his unrequited love out in the open.
Alfred got out of the car before Ivan could cross to the other side and open it for him. Alfred knew that Ivan was trying to be polite but he seriously wasn’t feeling it, he couldn’t feel anything expect regret deep down in his stomach.
“Oh” Alfred said and remembered the corsage he had gotten.
Ivan looked at him and started to worry. Did he do something wrong? Was he not polite enough? Was Alfred, his god, going to leave him?
“I forgot to give you this” Alfred said and handed the corsage to Ivan.
Ivan starred at the purple flower pin in his hand, not knowing what to do.
“It’s a corsage, it tradition to give it to your date in the US” Alfred said.
Ivan just looked at him as if he had started speaking an alien language.
Wait-
“Oh that’s right… you still don’t know English” Alfred said and took the corsage from Ivan’s hand. Alfred stepped in front of Ivan to pin the corsage to on the breast pocket of his suit.
Ivan hitched his breath when Alfred stepped closer to him and he had to hold himself from reaching out and touching his golden hair.
“Umm this is for your suit” Alfred said and tried to signal what he was saying by pointing at the corsage and then at Ivan.
Ivan understood what Alfred meant, he understand that the purple flower pin was for him.
“Yes” Ivan said and smiled at Alfred. Alfred smiled the best he could and they both walked into the gymnasium.
As soon as the smell of sweaty teenagers and spiked punch hit Alfred he felt like turning back. He was about to when he saw Ivan walk up to a group of students. Alfred followed him and realized it was Ivan’s friends.
Ivan started talking to his friends in Russian and Alfred just stood there smiling.
Ivan pointed towards Alfred and Alfred figured he was being introduced to Ivan’s friends. Alfred waved slightly and Ivan’s friends gave him a slightly disinterested wave back.
Ivan stood talking with his group for a while. Alfred didn’t mind since this was another way to quickly pass the time. He stayed by Ivan’s side but he looked around the room to see if he recognized anybody.
He spotted the Italian twins that were in his P.E. class and saw that one of them was yelling while the other twin stood there with tears welling up into his eyes. Alfred was going to walk over there to see if he can help but then a big German guy (Ludwig was it) came over to the Italian twins. Ludwig put his hand on the whimpering twin and proceeded to take him somewhere else to calm down. | f56a88e17fd64717ab454ea28ab8ee3f | ['357f758113654291bb14fa6741b60195'] |
1. From best friends to something else
**Author's Note:**
> A/N: This story is actually from my fan fiction.net account but I wanted to post it here too. The story first starts out fluffy and light heartedly but it will gradually get more angsty with every chapter. Hope you enjoy the story!
Rin never imagined his relationship with Haru would come this far yet here he was on the way to the location, a park nearby, they agreed on for his date with Haru.
Rin has known Haru since preschool, Rin was the typical loud and outspoken toddler while Haru was the quite kid who drew in a corner all alone. Yet they got along pretty well, Rin would defend Haru whenever someone asked why he was weird and sat alone, and in return Haru would share his food with Rin. It was their just a system of theirs that even followed to the end of middle school. Although now they're both in high school and Rin started to notice his heart would flutter anytime he saw or even thought of Haru. He didn't know what to make of the new emotion he was feeling for his best friend. That's why he decided to ask Haru on a date to confirm if the new emotion he was feeling was truly what he thought it was.
Rin had arrived at the park and spotted Haru patiently waiting next to a cherry blossom tree.
"Haru!" Haru looked up from his phone and saw Rin run up to him, franticly waving his hand in the air to catch his attention. Haru waved back and put his phone away in his back pocket.
"Hey" Haru said softly once Rin was standing in front of him.
Rin smiled softly at him and Haru felt his heart flutter at the sight."Have you been waiting long?"
"No I arrived a few minutes ago"
"Oh that's great to hear!" Rin smiled brightly once again and Haru felt his heart flutter. Damn heart, can't control itself
"So should we get going? I have our whole day planned out perfectly!"
"Sure" Haru softly responded. Rin grabbed his wrist, dragging him away while he talked about the plans he made for today but all Haru could think about was how fast his heart was beating and how much he actually liked Rin grabbing his wrist. He enjoyed the warmth from the contact.
Rin's heart was also beating fast as the date progressed.
He took Haru to a puppet show nearby and he found him staring at Haru rather than paying attention to the show, he was so enchanted by the way Haru's eyes lit up when he found a part of the show funny. It took his breath away.
Next he took Haru to an art exhibition and casually dropping hints that Haru should display some of his one artworks one day. Rin loved Haru's artwork and wished Haru would share it with the rest of the world to bask in the beautiful art however Haru casually denies that he believes no one would be interested in his artworks and brushed off Rin's suggest.
This time Rin spent most of the time admiring the pieces of artwork, captivated by the beautiful brushstrokes of a cherry blossom painting. He blushed all the way to his ears when he noticed Haru staring at him with those beautiful ocean blue eyes that always had a spark in them.
After the art exhibition Rin heard his stomach make grumbling noises and he smiled sheepishly, embarrassed. They stopped by an ice cream shop, Haru got strawberry while Rin decided on Vanilla. They sat in one of the shops little tables seated outside and happily ate their ice cream.
Rin had enjoyed his ice cream a little too much as he had quite a few bit of it on his outer lip area in which Haru promptly giggled as he got a napkin and wiped it off. Rin's heart started to beat faster and he blushed, again, up to his ears when Haru reached out and wiped the ice cream off.
They had such a wonderful time that they didn't notice when it started to get late and it was time for them to get on their own train route and part ways.
Rin walked Haru to his train station and waved goodbye to Haru but not before Haru grabbed Rin's collar and gave him a peck on the cheek. Then Haru hopped onto the train and waved goodbye.
Rin stood there astonished with his breath knocked out of him and face burning hot from how deep his blush was. He covered his face with his hands and smiled because there he realized how deep he had fallen for Haruka Nanase, his best friend and possibly future boyfriend.
* * *
2. Waiting for his answer
2 weeks
They had been on other dates but this time it was special because Rin had gained so much more confidence with every date he went on with Haru and he had mustered enough courage to do what he was about to do next.
After the exciting date Rin accompanied Haru to his train stop. They stood next to each other patiently waiting for the train to arrive. When they heard the squeaking sound of the train wheels stopping, Haru turned to Rin to tell each other their goodbyes. But as he was about to bid Rin goodbye he was surprised to find Rin's lips on his. The kiss didn't last long and Rin quickly pulled away and in low voice asked,
"Will you go out with me, Haru? Y-you don't have to give me a response right now!"
Haru didn't respond. Instead he stepped into the train and gave a small wave at Rin before the train's wheels started to turn again.
Rin stayed rooted to his spot until he couldn't see the train anymore. He felt something wet roll down his cheek.
* * * |
b7957f673dc74ed9a0beac9d1f57c023 | ['358365ea5af6419aaa93c2cbf869a016'] | musicals??
“What’re you listening to, TJ?”, Cyrus asks, breaking TJ from his own thoughts.
It’s Saturday morning, and TJ is at the park playing basketball and wearing wireless headphones. He’d asked Cyrus to meet him at the park so that they could hang out, but he didn’t expect Cyrus to arrive this early.
Cyrus assumed that TJ was listening to Panic! At The Disco, or maybe Tyler, The Creator because that’s what he usually listened to during practice time, but Cyrus still asked because he was a naturally curious and invasive person.
But this time, Cyrus’s predictipn was not correct, as TJ answered, “Nothing”, sheepishly.
By this time, Cyrus knew his boyfriend well enough to know when TJ was hiding something. For example, TJ had acted this way when Cyrus viewed his old pictures, and when Cyrus caught him watching Glee.
“Are you listening to Emma Chamberlain’s podcast?”, Cyrus asked teasingly. He knew that TJ hated Emma Chamberlain and her podcast furiously.
“Ew never. If I were listening to a podcast, it would be that mockumentary American Vandal one that Netflix released”, TJ scoffed.
“Mhmm. Then what are you so secretive about? Are you listening to Billie Eilish? Wait, you wouldn’t be secretive about that. You and Amber stan Billie publicly, I mean you even have “WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP WHERE DO WE GO?” on vinyl”, Cyrus said.
“Okay, Underdog! I was listening to Heathers! Is that what you want??”, TJ said.
“I love Heathers!”, Cyrus exclaimed, “I hope you’re listening to the original cast recording, though, because the version they did on Riverdale is the actual worst”.
“Oh, of course. I’d rather die than hear Cole Sprouse sing ‘Seventeen’ “, TJ replied.
“I can’t believe I once thought that you were scary”, Cyrus said.
“Aw C’mon, Underdog! You’re ruining my rep”, TJ said jokingly.
“So all these times that you’re doing conditioning at the gym, you’re listening to Heathers?”, Cyrus asked.
“Nah, I usually listen to Be More Chill when I’m at the gym”, TJ admitted.
“Theo, I love you more than ever right now!”, Cyrus said.
TJ walked over to Cyrus and hugged him, placing a kiss on Cyrus’s forehead.
“Ew you’re all sweaty”, Cyrus said.
“Shut up, Underdog”, TJ murmered.
“Jeez! I was just joking. You’re can never be not cute”, Cyrus said, kissing TJ.
TJ smiled into the kiss, happy that he had such a great boyfriend. | 8a2987bc202f4c99a5acbc2c0af7a286 | ['358365ea5af6419aaa93c2cbf869a016'] | insecurities
Cyrus was at the Kippen’s house for dinner, and as soon as they were done eating and had gone in the family room, he began walking around the room looking at everything-more specifically looking for pictures of TJ. He’d seen baby pictures of TJ, obviously, and even some from elementary school, but TJ had pictures from 5th-7th grade on lockdown.
After circling the room like twenty times, Cyrus had finally found what he was looking for.
On the mantle, TJ and Amber’s school pictures from the last three years were displayed.
“Found them!” Cyrus announces happily.
TJ groaned from his place on the couch.
“How do I not remember you looking like this?”, Cyrus asked, looking closer at the pictures, and pointing at TJ’s sixth and seventh grade pictures.
“What, Underdog?”, TJ asked, getting up to see what Cyrus was pointing at. Once he saw the pictures that Cyrus was looking at, he flipped them over so that the pictures were flipped down.
“We don’t speak of that time in my life”, TJ said matter-of-factly.
“Aww come on, Theo! You’ve seen all of my baby pictures. And all of my elementary and middle school pictures”, Cyrus said.
TJ softened as soon as he heard Cyrus call him “Theo”.
“Okay. But you have to promise to not laugh. And don’t tell Buffy, because she’d never let me here the end of it”, TJ said.
TJ grabbed the two pictures frames, and set them facedown on the coffee table.
“So this was sixth grade”, TJ said, picking up the first picture frame and handing it to Cyrus.
The picture revealed a super young looking TJ. His hair was kind of Dwight Schrute-esque in the picture. He was also wearing a pair of thick black glasses, and he had braces.
“And this was seventh grade”, TJ said, handing the other frame to Cyrus as well.
In the picture, TJ’s hair was as it is now, and he was wearing the same glasses as the first picture, and he still had braces.
Cyrus studied the pictures closely. At first glance, it barely resembled the boy sitting next to him. But as he looked closer, he could see the resemblance. It also explained a lot.
It explained why TJ smiled the way he did, like he was insecure to show his teeth or something. Almost like he still had braces. It also explained why, when Cyrus slept over, that TJ would squint a lot at night, right before they went to bed.
“You were so adorable, I mean you’re still adorable, but I didn’t know you used to have glasses and braces”, Cyrus gushed.
“Yeah, I don’t like those pictures, very much. I mean, Amber was always pretty and for like all of middle school I was known as Amber Kippen’s dorky younger brother”, TJ said.
“You looked cute, but the Dwight K Schrute hair had to go”, Cyrus said teasingly.
“Fun fact, when I was in sixth grade and Amber was in eighth, we were Dwight and Angela from The Office for Halloween. I mean now, I realize that it was kinda weird, because they were a couple, but it was still a pretty cool costume. My mom even got me prescription glasses that looked like Dwight’s”, TJ said.
“Pictures , now!!”, Cyrus demanded.
TJ reached over to the bookshelf that was next to the couch and grabbed a photo album. He flipped through it until he found the pictures. He then handed the album to Cyrus.
“I love this. I want a copy of this picture. It’s so cute. You guys were so creative!”, Cyrus exclaimed.
“Yeah. Cyrus, I’m sorry for freaking out on you when you looked at those pictures. I just don’t like people to see me looking like that. I’m kind of vain, if you haven’t noticed”, TJ said sheepishly.
“No, you don’t have to apologize Teej. I was being invasive anyway. Just...” Cyrus trailed off.
“Yeah?”, TJ asked.
“Can you wear your glasses around me sometime?”, Cyrus asked, “I mean you don’t even have to wear them to school. Just wear them next time we have a sleepover or something”.
“I’ll go put them on right now”, TJ said.
“Really?”, Cyrus asked hesitantly.
“Yeah. My contacts are killing me anyway, but I wasn’t planning on taking them out until you left. This actually works better for me”, TJ said.
Cyrus followed TJ up the stairs to his room. Once they were inside his room, TJ grabbed a navy blue leather glasses case and walked into the bathroom.
“I look like a dork”, TJ said from the bathroom.
“I’m sure you don’t”, Cyrus said, walking into the bathroom.
TJ was standing there, looking into the mirror. He was wearing a pair of big black glasses with thick lenses.
Once he saw TJ in his glasses, Cyrus melted.
“You look adorable, Teej!”, Cyrus exclaimed.
“Really?”, TJ asked insecurely.
“Yes! You’re my boyfriend and glasses or no glasses, you’re still adorable. And I’m not even lying, I’m like weirdly attracted to you in glasses”, Cyrus said.
TJ laughed and then hugged Cyrus.
For some reason, TJ didn’t feel insecure at all, even though he was standing there in his thick, dorky glasses that he hated more than anything.
Cyrus just somehow always knew how to make TJ feel better. |
57410aac518e40ed91c10f7835df34d5 | ['358fa4815881478eafc675c400871875'] | “Don’t.” The light caught Richard’s eyes when he glanced up. “Don’t be afraid to move. If you’re not grinding against my face, I’m not doing my job right.” Whatever Gavin was going to say in reply got lost in a garbled noise as Richard fucked his tongue into Gavin’s hole in three strong thrusts. He went back to lavishing attention on the rim, flicking his tongue in and out.
“Ohhhh fuck.” Gavin looked down to see Richard sling one of Gavin’s legs over his shoulder. The sight of such a gorgeous man with his head between Gavin’s thighs made him whimper and squirm. “M-more, please.” He hated how shaky his voice was but he could feel the curve of Richard’s smiling against his ass.
“You sound so good, I love hearing you tell me what you want.” Briefly, Richard moved away and Gavin made a noise of complaint. “Ssh,” Richard soothed as he returned, holding a bottle of lube. After applying it to one hand, he lapped at Gavin’s entrance, before sliding in a finger alongside his tongue. Both moved inside of Gavin, slowly thrusting in and out.
Gasping and moaning, Gavin rolled his hips. “F-fuuuuck,” Richard’s finger sunk in deeper, pressing against his prostate. “Shit,” Gavin twitched, desperate for more stimulation. The finger withdrew, and his whine of protest turned into a gasp as Richard sunk his tongue into him.
He moved his tongue in short thrusts, causing Gavin to groan. Then two fingers joined in, and Gavin began to shake from the feeling of being filled. All he could do was take it, panting and gasping as Richard worked him open. Two fingers turned into three, scissoring apart as Richard licked a stripe up Gavin’s neglected cock.
Biting back a shout, Gavin looked his legs over Richard’s shoulder. Breathing out hard, he found himself beginning to beg. “Please, please, fuck me, please.” The world narrowed down to the feeling of Richard’s attentions and the slow build of pleasure.
“Hmm…” Feigning consideration, Richard twisted his fingers inside Gavin. “Are you sure you’re ready?” When Gavin frantically nodded, Richard smiled. “Oh, well, alright then.” He slowly withdrew his fingers, pressing a kiss of apology to Gavin’s thigh as the other man tried to move after them.
Moving up onto his knees and adjusting their position, Richard reached for the lube and added a generous amount to his cock. Lining up to Gavin’s entrance, he slowly pushed inside. With the amount of prep Richard had done, he slid in easily.
“Fuck,” Gavin shuddered, almost gasping with relief. He stilled, eyes tearing up.
“Gavin?” Staying firmly seated inside, Richard paused. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He went to reach out a hand, before realizing they were both covered in lube. Wiping off the hand that hadn’t been inside Gavin, Richard cupped the other man’s cheek, using his thumb to brush away a tear.
“Sorry. No. It’s just… been a while. Since I’ve had another person inside me.” Clearing his throat, Gavin tried to look away. “It’s fine, you can move.”
Leaning forward, Richard kissed him, deep and slow. When he drew back, he smiled at Gavin. “Thank you, for letting me be with you like this.” Gavin’s erection had flagged during the interlude, and after licking his hand, Richard reached down to stroke it. Then he slowly began to move.
“Shit,” Already halfway gone from earlier, Gavin locked his legs behind Richard and pulled him closer. “Fuck, that’s so good.” He gave a breathless groan as Richard’s dick hit his prostate, over and over, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.
“Are you going to come for me?” Richard asked lowly, nuzzling against Gavin’s neck. “You’re doing so well, taking my cock like you were made for it. What if I just kept you here, in my bed? Until all you know is having my cock inside you.”
Letting out another high pitch noise, Gavin clawed at Richard’s back. “Oh my god, please, harder, more—” He broke off to moan as Richard sped up his movements. It felt like being held down and claimed, safely cradled by Richard’s hands and body. The pleasure grew, climbing, until Gavin began to come.
Just as he did, Richard bit him, sending another wave of endorphins through his body. Everything went white, disappearing except for how good it felt.
When he came back down, it was to the feeling of Richard still moving inside of him. It was just on the edge of too much, sending aftershocks through his body. Gavin whimpered, unable to gather the words to speak.
“Ssh,” Richard crooned, licking at the puncture wounds. “You did so well, can you be good for me for a little longer?” Mindlessly, Gavin nodded, because yes he could do that. He wanted to be good.
As Richard continued to use him, slowly thrusting in and out, Gavin’s dick twitched and he felt himself began to peak again. “Richard—” He could barely get the other man’s name out, not even sure what he was asking for.
Easily lifting him, sitting back, Richard adjusted them so that Gavin was riding him. “Come on,” Richard encouraged, running a soothing hand up and down Gavin’s back, before reaching down to toy with Gavin’s dick. “I want to see you taking my cock.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, concentrating on chasing the feeling, Gavin started to move. He shifted restlessly, giving another bitten off moan when he found the right angle. Richard began thrusting up to meet him, making Gavin pitch forward, wrapping his arms around Richard’s shoulders. Panting and drooling against the other man’s neck, Gavin gasped and whined, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he mindlessly fucked himself down onto Richard’s cock. Vaguely, he was aware of Richard talking to him, telling him how gorgeous he was, how well he was taking it, that he was good, so good— | a172f77941834a6ab60e52d00fac9350 | ['358fa4815881478eafc675c400871875'] | Letting out a huff of a laugh, still with that slight smile, Reed shook his head and meandered over to one of the tables. Setting down the drink, he pulled a stack of tablets out of a backpack, sat down, and settled into working.
**You’re staring,** Kit mentioned over their private channel, gently amused.
Realizing that he was, Niles immediately jerked his gaze away. _It was a momentary lapse,_ he insisted. Even to him, the excuse sounded ineffective. His scan returned, showing no operational issues. Still... _Clearly there’s something lagging in my system._
**Clearly.** The enby grinned.
The rest of the morning passed with Reed remaining at his table. Niles got in the habit of discretely coming by and refilling the detective’s coffee whenever the liquid level started getting low. The other man was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t even notice.
Eventually, the lunch rush came and went. Niles walked Kit home, and then came back to the cafe. He was working a double-shift as a favor to Reggie, and was accompanied by Pam.
With a frown, Niles noticed that Reed was still there, and hadn’t had anything to eat; just coffee. Paying for a muffin, the android put it on a plate and brought it over to the detective’s table. “Here, you should eat something.”
As if coming out of a trance, Reed blinked several times. Confused, he looked from the pastry to Niles. “Uh, I didn’t pay for it?”
“Consider it complimentary.” Niles flashed an awkward smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. Kit called it his customer service expression. “You're one of our regulars, after all." A muffin wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
Reed hesitated, and then sighed. “Uh, thanks, I guess. But I’m vegan, and those aren’t, so…”
“Oh.” Mentally, Niles added _Reed is vegan_ to the mental file he kept on the man. “I didn’t realize. My apologies.” The factoid was genuinely a surprise to learn. It might've been a stereotype, but Reed didn't seem like the kind of person who was conscientious enough to be a vegan.
“Ah, whatever, it’s fine.” the detective seemed uncomfortable. “Thanks anyways?”
Feeling more dejected than was warranted, Niles returned behind the counter and put the muffin back in the display case. For a moment, he stood there staring into space. An idea occurred to him and the android turned to Pam. “Are any of our bagels vegan?”
The woman looked thoughtful. “I think our whole wheat ones are, actually.”
“Do you mind if I leave for a moment? I should be back in less than ten minutes.” She gave him permission and Niles did a quick search for health food groceries nearby. Luckily, there was one within walking distance.
Coming back with his purchases, Niles began assembling the ingredients on a whole wheat bagel. Pam watched with fascination. “I feel like I should chastise you for bringing in outside food? But what you’re doing is really sweet, so I’m okay with it.”
“Thank you.” He appreciated her support. A moment later, Niles brought over the finished product to Reed. “A vegan BLT,” he announced, setting the plate down. It looked picturesque, and the reviews of the vegan bacon said it tasted and smelled almost like the real thing.
Clearly as a loss for words, Reed stared at Niles, face flushed. He tried several times to say something, before ducking his head and mumbling his thanks. Picking up the sandwich, Reed took a bite. Blinking in surprise, he chewed, and then took another bite. "'S good."
"I'm glad to hear that." Niles flashed another smile, this one more genuine. Accomplishment making his thirium pump feel warm, he walked away. Once back at the counter, he kept an eye on Reed, making sure the detective continue to eat the sandwich.
As a pleasant surprise, Reed ate the whole thing.
***
A week went by without anything of note occurring. Reed finally finished with the case that was causing him so much grief, but was soon assigned another one. Niles fretted from afar, continually making excuses to bring food to the detective. His excuses were paper thin - testing recipes, customer appreciation, ‘are you sure you didn’t buy this I think you did’. Reed always reacted awkwardly, but he still accepted the offerings.
Niles was starting to understand why Connor devoted so much time to fixing Hank’s diet. Reed ate healthy, but didn’t eat often enough. At least Niles was able to do something about it. However, after another week of this, something odd occurred. Reed was suddenly back to acting like his old self. Only to Niles though, the returned animosity didn’t apply to Kit.
Reviewing his actions, Niles couldn’t see what he did to cause the behaviour. It was easy to excuse as human strangeness, but Kit was equally baffled.
How did that expression go? One step forward, two steps back.
***
It was late afternoon, and the cafe was quiet. There were only two patrons -- a hipster pecking away at a keyboard, amateurishly writing a novel, and Reed. His table was covered in tablets containing files on his latest case. Ignoring them, the detective was scribbling something in a notebook and scowling down at the page.
Niles was leaning against the counter, resting his elbow on it and resting his chin on his hand. He wasn’t bored -- impossible to be so, with every piece of media at his disposal -- but he was having trouble concentrating. A strange listlessness had fallen over him.
It motivated him to reach out and scan over the contents of Reed’s tablets. Despite containing confidential information, they possessed only the most basic of firewalls, which Niles bypassed with ease. In a moment, he had reviewed the case, and then blinked slowly. |
8bcecb7246414c9fa1e6e8032dde721c | ['35a8a54e89ce4925b09316dfd45e365a'] | Mulligan whooped and sat back, looking at Alex with satisfaction painted all over his face. “Adrienne left Laf because he’s gay. Like, gay as can be. A rainbow, basically. So gay.”
“Oh.”
Laurens and Mulligan dissolved into laughter like schoolgirls, with only Laurens possessing enough decency to try to recover. Lafayette rolled his eyes and ordered another shot.
* * *
“So then the guy tries to buy me a drink, asks me to vote for him to be president of the debate club,” Alex explained, waving his hands around, much more relaxed after downing a bottle. Lafayette watched him over his glass, a faint smile on his lips. “I was like, you’re kidding. You go around debate club talking about how we should sit back and _not_ speak our minds, and now you’re trying to pass as a man with ideals? Really.” He ordered another bottle and popped the top.
Mulligan shook his head. “Tell me you punched him,” he said.
“Oh, I wish. But Professor Washington was right there, and I somehow don’t think he’d appreciate that very much,” Alex grinned wryly. They’d been swapping stories, talking the entire night away. As Alex took a swig of the beer, Laurens glanced at his watch and made a noise somewhere between surprise and dread.
“ _Shit_. My girlfriend’s gonna kill me if I go back this late drunk outta my mind,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I need to sober up and sneak back or crash at one of yours for the night.”
Mulligan began to say something before cursing, too. Lafayette turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Alex,” Mulligan muttered, head between his hands, “was the landlord talking about locking up early _tonight?_ ” Alex squinted in drunken thought, swishing the gulp of beer in his mouth before swallowing and nodding slowly.
“Fuck. Yeah. New Year’s Eve. He said something about leaving the city early.” He ran a hand over his tired features, massaging his temples and exhaling through his nose. “Completely forgot.” They sat in silence for a moment before Alex mused, “Well, it looks like we’re homeless tonight.”
“Um, hello?” Lafayette waved his shot glass in front of Alex, tripping over his words. “ _C’est moi_ , Lafayette. I have an apartment. No roommates. Free of charge, because Mulligan and Laurens are cheapskate parasites and because you’re kind of cute.”
Laurens choked, spilling his drink and earning a dirty look from the bartender. Mulligan made an “ooh” noise, and slowly, a dopey, intoxicated grin stretched across Alex’s lips. “Your place, then, _si vous le voulez bien.”_ Lafayette smiled back.
“ _Laurens_ , they’re being French again,” Mulligan cried, grabbing for Laurens’s arm but missing by a few feet. Laurens shook his head and swatted the drunk mountain of a man away.
Loudly, Lafayette whispered to Alex and Laurens, “ _Le imbécile tente de communiquer_ ,” making the two laugh and Mulligan’s scowl deepen.
* * *
“Every—” flick “—damn—” flick “—channel—” flick “—is about New Year’s,” Lafayette complained, throwing up his remote in exasperation. Laurens and Mulligan were sprawled across his couch like the freeloaders they were, Laurens completely and utterly asleep. Lafayette nudged Mulligan with a socked foot. “ _Imbécile,_ take off your shoes. This is a _home_.”
“Ain’t much of a home,” he retorted, but he obliged. “What’s wrong, grumpy your French soap operas aren’t on? That you got no lap to cry on?” Before Lafayette could smack Mulligan’s smiling face with the remote, Alex poked his head out from the kitchen.
“Coffee?” he offered, raising a mug. “Or did you want me to get the bottle of vodka in your fridge, for your kiss?” He gave Lafayette a sly wink, and Lafayette frowned to mask the way his heart skipped a beat.
“Ha ha, adorable. _Très drôle._ ” He reached out for the second coffee mug in Alex’s hand as he walked over to the sofa.
Alex held up the free hand in mock defense, but his slow grin betrayed him. “ _Seulement essayer d'aider_ ,” he promised.
“God, I really need to learn French. Or get new friends,” Mulligan rolled his eyes. He shifted, trying to get into a comfortable position that didn’t include getting Laurens’s feet in his face.
“I don’t know why you won’t let me teach you, _mon ami,_ ” Lafayette smirked, his accent a purr on his tongue and his eyebrows arched. Alex made a small noise behind his coffee mug, but Mulligan spoke before Lafayette could ask what was wrong.
“Hmm, maybe it’s because the last time you taught me a phrase, I got _slapped_ by that French girl I was trying to impress. She almost pressed charges!” he hissed, eyes narrowed.
Alex had to put down his mug from laughing. He settled in between the two bantering men on the couch, turning to ask Lafayette what he’d taught Mulligan when he realized he’d miscalculated their proximity. The Frenchman was much, much closer than he’d thought, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved away.
Then, the moment was over. Lafayette fell back onto the armrest of the couch, crying out, “ _Christ, il n'y a pas de place pour quatre ici!”_
Mulligan rolled his eyes and shot back, “No one understands you!” and Alex reminded himself how to breathe.
Under the arm he’d thrown over his face, Lafayette felt his cheeks heat up. This wasn’t how he’d pictured his New Year’s Eve. He peeked out from his position to watch Alex move, silhouetted in the city lights filtering in from the window and washed in the colors of the TV. Outside the dim living room, he could hear the excited chatter of the crowd in Times Square growing as midnight approached. | ea48adcabd0243c7bb242674c72fc03a | ['35a8a54e89ce4925b09316dfd45e365a'] |
**Author's Note:**
> I have a bunch of notes due tomorrow, an in-class essay, a calculus test, and work after class. The day is 2 minutes from ending, and this is what I'm doing with my time. Kms.
>
> 'tis a small work but I remember loving it when I first wrote it, and since I have a trend of escaping into fanfiction when I'm stressed, here it is.
>
> Enjoy!
The marriage was a quiet one. Unusual for the two, as it almost seemed they were only capable of loud sarcasm and sly mockery. But for one night, off the coast of Portugal where the cold sea rushed to meet their feet and the land carried them far from home, for one full moon they were silent.
It wasn’t a planned occasion—far from it, in fact. He had no ring for her, nor she for him, but they both agreed that such sentiments would only interfere with their lifestyle. So he fashioned the North Star out of ice as well as he could remember it and slid it onto her left ring finger. And she, after quickly scouring the beach in the falling darkness, racking her brain, and finally running back to their lodgings to retrieve something, returned with an object in her hands.
“I wasn’t going to give it to you ‘til I was satisfied with it, but for what it is, it works,” she mumbled with a shrug, holding out the black sheath. His fingers skimmed over the expensive leather and unsheathed a dagger the size of his forearm. The blade was fine and smooth, with his name etched carefully at its base. Even above the noises of the night, he could hear the blade with a life of its own, singing with the waves, echoing. His eyebrows furrowed at how much this must have cost her, how long it must have taken. This was likely why she’d skipped breakfast for weeks and suddenly suggested they sew up their clothes instead of buying new ones.
“Tokito—” he began, but she sheathed the sword for him and took him by the wrists.
Leading him to the blackness that was both the water and the horizon, where she could see as much as he could, she grumbled, “Shut up and marry me already.” He laughed at the same time the water crashed against stone. Later, she would recall that as one of her favorite sounds in the world. The sea was far from gentle that night, and jutting rocks braved the vast sky, barely outlined by the distant moonlight. Overhead, birds shaded in blacks and greys circled and disappeared, and for a night so insignificant and so ordinary, Tokito thought it was beautiful. Although she could hardly see him in the darkness, she had memorized much of how he looked after five years of traveling together, and she imagined now that he was not looking at her but listening to her. Feeling her beside him. Leaning close to his solid form, she whispered, “What are we waiting for?” She doubted he could hear her over the ocean, but he did in that annoying way that always proved her wrong. He heard her and he kissed her cold forehead and maybe she didn’t mind so much that he was always proving her wrong.
“Are you wearing your wedding dress?” he smirked at her, but the mocking tone in his voice was swept away by the wind. His hands found her waist. Burying his face where her grown-out hair met the curve of her neck, he mused into the darkness of his sight and his surroundings, “Is this what they mean by not seeing the bride before the ceremony?” He could feel the smile forming on her lips and he was certain she could feel his as well.
They weren’t too sure of what they were doing. Over the years, they’d learned too many customs, attended too many weddings for strangers and festivities they could not fully understand. But they did the best they could, messing up every custom at their own whims and trailing along the ever-shifting contours of the waves lapping up against the shore. Together, they scattered dried myrtle leaves into the water and accidentally lost the glass bottles they were supposed to break. He tied small bells to her wrists so that every time she pulled him close she was keeping his demons away. She wreathed red string around his fingers until his were tangled with hers and for once the fate she read in the stars was happiness. As they scooped up shells to fill their pockets, a sudden, wild rain began to pound the sand and their skin like drums _._ He was used to the chill of the wind and the water, and they were nothing compared to his ice. But under his hands, her body trembled despite her will to act otherwise.
“Come on,” he murmured, feeling her shivering skin and the grains of rough sand between her fingers. “There’s one more tradition we can try.”
* * *
Warmth spread through her body as she sat beside him, her hands burning wonderfully against the hot _guinomi_ of sake. She sipped the warm alcohol again, a pleasure she’d never truly appreciated until now, then passed it to him. Sighing, she leaned her damp head against his and glanced at her now bare ring finger. Sometime during their unconventional wedding, the ring must have melted away. Frowning slightly, she mumbled, “Akira?”
“Hm?” he hummed around his first sip of sake.
“I gave you a dagger.” She paused, and his muscles tensed fractionally. Exhaling again, she muttered, “Could you, y’know, at least give me something that _lasts?_ ”
He turned to her, his frown matching hers. Feigning shocked hurt, he retorted, “My love isn’t enough?” Before she could scoff at him, he pulled her in and kissed her, and he made sure it lasted. |
d33ace076036479aadb50163057a8998 | ['35b7e52056f541cca79721a43fcde616'] | “You do that, Billy-Boy,” Coyote said with a soft chuckle. “You do that.”
7. Deal with the Devil
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Billy Nizhoni makes his choice, for better or worse.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Billy has a great deal more story that comes after this, but the majority of his backstory ends here. I've decided to leave the chapters open ended in case I think it's worth adding more, later.
It was difficult to tell how much time had passed. I had only the brightening and darkening of the smoke hole in the hogan’s roof as a reference for day and night. The first days were the hardest and most frustrating, as my injuries kept me mostly immobile. My body was simply not capable of doing the things I demanded of it. Even getting up to take care of my business left me sweating and panting like I had run a marathon. Coyote, surprisingly enough, kept his mouth shut, letting me suffer through my exertion without mockery. The Trickster was always nearby, but never quite interfering. He provided clothing, food, and more of the vile willow bark tea, and slowly and stubbornly, I regained my mobility and strength.
The shoulder healed the quickest, and the claw marks on my chest became angry-looking scars. The puncture wound in my thigh and the cracked rib pained me less with time as well. Once I could walk without hobbling like an elderly woman, I ventured out of the hogan. The desert stretched out in all directions around us, with no signs of civilization except the hogan as far as the eye could see. It was like being back on the reservation again. Days had passed, maybe weeks. My hair had begun to grow out of its military-short cut.
I knew if I left, Coyote wouldn’t stop me any more than he had when I chose to join the Air Force. But if I left, I was on his own. I had nothing but those clothes on my back, a fresh set of scars, and my own two feet. If I could make his way down to Mexico or Central America, I could likely make a decent trade selling my skills as a mercenary, but that precluded actually _getting_ there. Then there was the fact that I knew how most of the cartels operated. Men of my sort were in high demand, but it meant running drugs and terrorizing innocent people, and that was something I refused to do. In the end, it made Coyote’s offer look better and better.
Coyote joined me, squatting in the dirt outside the hogan as the sun began to set. “So,” the Trickster began conversationally. “You given any more thought to my proposal?”
“Uh huh,” I replied noncommittally. Coyote chuckled.
“And?”
I was silent for a long moment. “I’ll do it,” I finally said, and hoped I would not regret my decision too badly. I grunted when Coyote clapped me on the shoulder.
“You always were a smart boy, Billy.” His grin was a Cheshire Cat smile. “My secretary’ll get you set up first thing on Monday.”
“You have a secretary?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what he was saying.
“Sure do. She’s a knockout, too.” Coyote went on to describe the woman’s other aspects in detail. I got the feeling the term sexual harassment had never been and would never be part of the Trickster’s vocabulary.
I just shook my head and let my... Patron? Sponsor? Boss? Ramble on about the job. Working for Coyote. I’d spent six years trying to get away and build a life for myself, and now I was right back where I had started. I could only hope I’d made the right choice. | ecbeefbd1f6a42ed9c316a4c4cf86a04 | ['35b7e52056f541cca79721a43fcde616'] |
1. Banishment
**Author's Note:**
> Short chapters, mostly backstory for an original character. The story is mine, but the concept of Hayven was dreamed up by myself and several friends, and I cannot take sole credit for it.
The gentle glow of Princess Celestia’s horn faded to nothing. The princess straightened, her shimmering mane and tail gently wafting with her graceful movements. “There now,” she said softly to the tiny filly at her feet. “Try again, little one.”
Moon Shadow tried desperately not to allow her anxiety to show as her little daughter stood, testing each leg one hoof at a time. When her daughter had been born an alicorn, sporting both the wings of her pegasus father and her mother’s own unicorn horn, the overjoyed unicorn had named the tiny foal Cloud Dancer, in light of what had seemed an auspicious occasion. Moon Shadow had quickly learned, however, that princess ponies simply were not born to lowly serving ponies, no matter who their fathers happened to be. She had been kept sequestered since before her foal’s birth, and Cloud Dancer’s very existence was known to precious few. Her little daughter had only seen what tiny fraction of Canterlot that was visible from the narrow window of their high tower room.
And now, Princess Celestia herself had come to inspect her child. Though the princess had been very kind and perfectly polite, Moon Shadow could not help the quiver of trepidation she felt when she had bowed low and presented her daughter for Celestia to see. The worst of Moon Shadow’s fears had quickly come to pass, as Cloud Dancer had taken two steps forward, tried to execute a bow of her own, and promptly tripped over her own feet and fallen flat on her face with her little wings fluttering helplessly in the air. Moon Shadow’s heart had sunk. Though her daughter showed the same elegant lines of body as the princess, Cloud Dancer could barely take a step without tripping or stumbling. At first, Moon Shadow had put her daughter’s clumsiness down to a foal’s general lack of coordination, but as the weeks had passed, it only seemed to grow worse.
Since her own magic had been unable to help, Moon Shadow had been relieved when Princess Celestia had offered to try to fix Cloud Dancer’s ungainly legs. Now Moon Shadow held her breath as her daughter attempted to walk on her own. For a moment, hope soared as the filly took her first regal strides. She made it five steps before her overlong legs tangled, and the tiny pony went over with a little cry that had her mother rushing to her side. Cloud Dancer was unhurt, but the little filly sniffled, as though she somehow knew her performance had disappointed.
“Oh dear,” the princess remarked quietly, her tone full of sadness and regret. “This will never do.”
Moon Shadow nuzzled her little filly, and then turned tearful eyes on Celestia. “Then... There’s nothing you can do, your majesty?” she asked, her lower lip beginning to tremble.
“I’m afraid not, my dear.” The princess wore a grave expression. “If my magic cannot fix this, I fear nothing can.” Her eyes softened as the tiny pony struggled to her ungainly feet again. Celestia leaned down once more to touch horns with the child. “I cannot help you, little one, but always remember you are special. You will find your place in life. You simply have to look for it,” she said softly, before straightening again.
“But... What will we do?” Moon Shadow asked in bewilderment.
Celestia was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry Moon Shadow. I’m quite certain young Cloud Dancer will not find happiness growing up in Canterlot, or anywhere else in Equestria.”
“N-not in Equestria?” Moon Shadow quailed, her ears flattening. “B-but, where else would we go?”
“My guards will take you both as far as the Everfree Forest,” Celestia told her gently, her eyes filled with sadness and pity. “From there, you will be free to go your own way, but you mustn’t return to Equestria. That is how it must be, my little pony.”
“You... You’re banishing us?” Moon Shadow squeaked.
“I know it may not seem that way, but sending you away would be a greater kindness than allowing your daughter to grow up misunderstood and ridiculed for her disabilities,” Celestia said reasonably. “Young ponies are often cruel towards those they fear or do not understand, and I would spare her that indignity. Pack your things,” the princess told her quietly. “You will be leaving tonight.”
“B-b-but...”
Moon Shadow found herself stammering to an empty room. The princess and her guard had already left. The decision was final. Banished from Equestria, from Canterlot, from everything she had ever known and loved, with only her small daughter to keep her company. She had not seen Cloud Dancer’s father, a pegasi and a relation of Celestia’s, since before the filly had been born. He had never even seen his daughter, and now they were being sent away. The unicorn curled up around her foal and cried.
2. Message Delivered
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Moon Shadow receives a message, a small glimmer of hope before beginning her exile. |
6c15a5dfe0af4dc08f5c3c499c736bce | ['35c60b7f3562406985839328fed1ee28'] | "Probably," I said, placing a hand on Elliot's arm. "And she's going to tell us, right?" I looked at the woman.
"She?" the woman said, raising her voice.
I looked at her, my eyebrows furrowed.
"I exist beyond the gender binary and do not use gendered pronouns-"
"Oh for the love-" Elliot began.
"Sam," said a voice. "It's okay. I'll go with them. I don't want to hide. I don't want to drag the group into this anymore."
A slight man came out of one of the rooms and addressed Elliot and me.
"I'm Wilburn Johnson," he said.
Elliot and I looked at each other, before snapping into action.
"Okay, then. Wilburn Johnson, you're under arrest for the murder of Ted Peters," Elliot said, pulling outhis handcuffs. "You have the right to remain silent..."
"Don't say anything, Bill," a man yelled.
"Just do what I said, okay?" he told the man, before giving us his wrists.
Elliot continued reading him his rights as we walked him out the door.
Before leaving the house, I addressed pink hair.
"Thanks for your help."
"Assimilationist," the pink-haired person muttered, before slamming the door shut.
xxxx
Knocking on Alex's apartment door, I drew in a breath. I heard footsteps and then the shuffling of somebody looking through the peephole. When the door opened, I saw that it was Fin.
"The press follow you here, lover?" he said, grinning.
"Very funny," I said. "But no."
I had made sure of that.
"She's been getting emails," he said, turning serious. "Not good."
"More Christians?"
"Actually," he said, whispering. "People on all sides of this case. Some calling her a, and I quote 'instrument of racism and homophobia,' and others calling her a..."
"Some variation of 'abomination'?"
"More or less," he said, stepping into the hallway outside Alex's apartment.
"Jesus," I said.
"Now he hasn't chimed in here, actually," he said.
"Right," I said. "Thanks. I'll take it from here."
He nodded, and before leaving he turned back to me.
"You're packing right?"
"Yeah," I said. "Of course."
My hand instinctively went to the outside of my coat, outlining my gun.
"Good," he said, before leaving.
I took a deep breath and gave a courtesy knock on Alex's front door before I walked in. I had only been here a few times and this time, as I did each time before, I took in precious bits and pieces of her life outside of work. Like her office, her living room was austere, tidy, and studious. Books lined bookshelves. A large, framed map hung on a wall. A medium-sized flat screen television was in the corner, sort of as an afterthought. A fireplace, whether functional or not, was the center of focus of the room. A half-full bottle of water sat on the coffee table, in front of an inviting sofa. The lights were dim, but bright enough to read by.
Alex emerged from another room, possibly her home office, wearing flannel pajama pants, a tank top, and her black glasses. Her long hair framed her face.
I smiled. Even though it was past 9 o'clock, she had likely been working on the case. Like me.
"Hey" I said.
"Hey," she said, sitting on the sofa. "Thank you. For being here."
"How are you?" I unfolded my arms, put my hands in pockets and walked to the other edge of the sofa, without sitting down.
"I knew what I signed up for with this job," she said.
"Yeah," I said. "But you're human. It's okay to be scared."
Still standing, I looked at the sofa.
"Liv, sit," she said. "It's going to be a long night if you stand the whole time."
Feeling her eyes on me, I draped my jacket over the back of the couch and sat at the end opposite of her.
"I am scared, Olivia. But I feel safer. With you."
She shifted her position on the couch, so that although she was still far from me, she was now facing me. She had drawn one leg up, while the other rested on the floor.
"What did you think of his attorney? Wilburn's..." I said.
"She knows her stuff. He's not talking, but I think we have enough evidence to charge him anyway."
"The hate crime angle seems to be more plausible," I said.
"Maybe..." she said.
"You seem hesitant," I said. "I was there, Alex. In that collective. They hate people like Peters."
"Liv," she said. "Those kids are pretty justified in being angry. But being rebellious and edgy doesn't automatically equate with being violent."
"Why are you giving them the benefit of the doubt here?" I said, my voice rising.
"Why are you not?" she said, her tone matching my own. "Peters went to that alley seeking sex with a man."
"And?" I said. "That Peters was a hypocrite doesn't justify murdering him."
"Jesus," she said, standing up. "That's not what I meant."
She walked to her fireplace, shaking her head. She then began laughing, angry.
"I'm sorry...?" I said, standing. "I miss something?"
Alex removed her glasses and placed them on the mantle of her fireplace. Her blue eyes were shiny, as though tears had welled up.
"Alex..."
She walked toward the kitchen. My eyes followed her, traveling from her blond hair to her backside. When she left the room, I put my elbows on the mantle of the fireplace and put head in my hands.
"Damn it," I whispered.
"Can I get you some wine, Detective?" she said from the other room, that angry tone still in her voice. "Oh, of course not. You're on duty."
I heard her swing open a cabinet, throw open a drawer, and shuffle through silverware searching for a wine opener. Rising from the sofa, heart pounding, I stormed into the kitchen.
"I'm here to do my job," I said. "Maybe you would prefer someone else here."
Her back was to me, her arms straining to remove the cork from a bottle of wine. | 78f666cae53b484aadcbf151e96ee717 | ['35c60b7f3562406985839328fed1ee28'] | "We've arranged a sexual encounter with Peters," Wilburn said. He then showed a small camera. "And this nanny-cam is going to record him ready and willing to pay for sex."
The video cut to a dark bar. In view were Wilburn and Peters, talking.
"$50, like we agreed earlier," Wilburn could be heard saying. "Blow job."
Peters looked around, coughing.
"Fine. No condom though."
The two men left the bar together. The camera appeared to have been in a messenger-type back that Wilburn was wearing, showing where they were walking to. Once they made it to a corner of the alley, Wilburn turned to Peters. The older man looked around and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.
Wilburn removed the bag from over his shoulder, and gently placed it on the ground. As he did so, the camera seemed to be shaking, as though Wilburn were nervous. Once it was steady on the ground, Peters could be seen standing with his penis in his hand, licking his lips.
As Wilburn walked toward Peters, his foot must have caught the strap of his bag. Wilburn could be heard cursing while the picture on the television turned sideways. The other side of the alley was in view, rather than Wilburn and Peters.
I began to get a sick feeling in my stomach. I put an arm around Alex.
"Alex, this isn't..." I began, warning her.
"Going to end well?" she said, leaning in to me. "I know."
Wilburn must have picked the bag up and righted it, as the view on the screen became fixed on Peters once again.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Undercover work was dangerous. It required training.
Peters, still exposed, looked at the bag then. On screen, he seemed to be looking at us.
"What's in that bag?" he asked.
Wilburn started, picking it up.
"What the hell is this?" Peters said, angry. His hand could be seen reaching toward the camera. Although older, Peters had Wilburn by at least 50 pounds.
"No!" Wilburn could be heard shouting.
The image on the screen became jumbled, as though the bag were spinning through the air. A cracking noise could be heard, as though the bag hit a wall, and then seemed to slide to the ground. Miraculously, Wilburn and Peters came into view again, although sideways. When they could be seen again, Peters had his hands around Wilburn's neck, choking him.
"No..." I whispered, as Wilburn seemed to lose consciousness.
Peters removed Wilburn's pants and began trying to sexually assault him.
Alex looked away. I muted the computer and pulled her closer to me.
A few minutes later, Wilburn regained consciousness and began struggling with Peters.
"Alex..." I said.
She turned, and began watching the video again.
Wilburn's hand found some object off-screen. His hand came into view, wielding what looked like a brick, and slammed it into Stevens' head. With a groan, Peters dropped like dead weight.
Stumbling toward his bag, brick in hand, Wilburn turned the camera off and the screen went blank.
"Shit," I whispered, dropping my phone.
Alex and I sat in silence for a minute.
"That," Alex said, finally. "Was intense."
My heart was pounding, with alternating feelings of rage, disgust, surprise. I remembered Wilburn's command to his friend when we were taking him away.
"He..." I said. "Wilburn... wanted that posted for the world to see..."
"Even though it showed Peters sexually assaulting him," Alex said, shaking her head.
"And him killing someone."
"In self-defense," Alex said. "My thoughts about this undercover conspiracy to entrap Peters aside, Wilburn was acting in obvious self-defense."
"Entrapment" I said. "That's not a crime though..."
"It's not," Alex said. "Entrapment is a defense, and can only be used against those acting on behalf of the state."
"Which these folks definitely weren't."
"No. But he could still be charged with interfering with a criminal investigation. With prostitution..."
"Alex..." I said. "He was a victim of sexual assault."
"This just doesn't sit well with me, Liv. These people did something really dangerous."
"And his reluctance to come forward is completely understandable. A black gay man killing a white conservative Christian icon? And that anti-gay group crying hate crime immediately..."
"I'll have to think about it," she said. "I'll talk to his attorney tomorrow. If this video's legit, murder charges will be dropped. Honestly, Liv, I have to seriously consider other charges. But I am willing to make a deal with his attorney."
"But-"
"Liv, this is my call," Alex said, putting a finger to my lips. "Tomorrow, okay?"
Taking her finger away, she replaced it with her lips, giving me a simple, perfect kiss.
Oh yeah. That.
I didn't think much of anything could make me forget Wilburn's case or the events of the past two days. But when Alex Cabot kissed me, I thought of nothing but the desire, deep within me that I had kept quiet for so many years. Tasting her, I deepened the kiss, using my hands to pick up her laptop and place it on the coffee table, closing it.
Once that was secure, I gently pushed Alex back, so she was lying on the sofa with me on top of her. She wrapped a leg around me, pulling me to her.
Supporting myself with one arm, I contemplated the draw-string of her pants. Later, I thought, slipping a hand up her shirt instead. I wanted more of her and wanted it faster, but this was big.
Alex was kissing my neck, urging me on.
"Alex, I..."
Had never done this before.
"You're doing fine," she whispered.
I already knew that, from her moans, but actually doing this was so much more intense than all of the times I had imagined it. I had to take my time. Be patient.
"Hey, hello? Hellooooo," came a small voice from my cell phone on the floor.
Alex and I stopped and looked at each other, wide-eyed. I smiled, picking up the phone.
"Elliot," I said. "We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?"
I clicked my phone shut and let it drop to the floor.
When, I turned back toward Alex, she was staring up at me smiling. Moving back on top of her, I smiled, leaning in to kiss her.
Damn.
xxx The End xxx |
b1d7e4c6928545e7942056f96c3fad40 | ['36019c105d454799b4b7af6ef9827b51'] | Minseok will be frozen, rooted to the spot as he takes in the sight before him. An idea will occur to Minseok in a flash of white rage, a wild, testosterone fuelled idea to rip Jongdae off the couch and to break every bone in this stranger’s body. To scream at him, then to scream at Jongdae and cry and cry and cry at what feels like his heart being torn out of his chest for the hundredth time. But he won’t do that. Minseok will simply close the door and return to his car, foggy mind now crystal clear, but oddly blank.
He will consider starting his car up and driving somewhere until the time he’s expected home, but instead he will remain in the driveway, staring out into the street and trying to think of anything other than the scene he just stumbled across, and failing miserably.
The hour will tick by impossibly slowly. Minseok will watch each individual minute flick forward on his car’s digital clock until it reads a six followed by two zeros. Then he will wait another five minutes, hoping against hope that this stranger will walk out of the house before Minseok has to walk in. But half past six will come and go, and Minseok will be sick of hiding out in his car; all he wants to do is crawl into bed and let the tears come.
So he will get out of his car again and trudge his way to the door, making an effort to be as loud as possible as he unlocks it again. He’ll enter the house to find everything as it was when he left that morning; blankets folded on the couch and cushions sitting neatly. Everything seems so normal that for a minute Minseok wonders whether he imagined the whole situation.
But then he’ll walk into the kitchen and there, sitting with his back to him on a bar stool will be his worst nightmare. Jongdae will be leaning on his elbows on the other side of the island bench, smiling at the stranger as they converse in low voices. He’ll look up as Minseok approaches and smile widely, causing the dark haired man in front of him to turn around.
The man will be lean in his fitted duck egg blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and his long face will shape into a smile that will make little creases form in the corners of his droopy eyes and create a dimple, _a fucking dimple,_ that punctures his right cheek. He’s beautiful and Minseok wants to cry because he wants so badly to hate this man, but he looks so innocent and kind that Minseok doesn’t think it’s possible.
“Minseok! This is my friend, Yixing.” Jongdae’s smile won’t have disappeared, in fact it will seem to have grown impossibly large. Minseok will shift his eyes back to Yixing as he gets off his chair and holds out a hand. Minseok won’t want to take his hand, he won’t want to touch any part of Yixing. He’ll almost feel that if he reaches out and touches him, he won’t be able to deny his existence any longer, that somehow the contact will confirm his physical being. But Minseok lacks the ability to be rude or outwardly discourteous, so he places his hand in Yixing’s own. Yixing’s hand will feel rough and calloused as it almost encases Minseok’s soft, small one, and his firm grip will almost make Minseok throw up at the thought of that hand touching Jongdae, skimming the planes of his chest and stomach, trailing down to hold his-
“It’s lovely to meet you, Minseok.” Yixing’s voice is soft, lilting and similarly quiet to Minseok’s own. Minseok will just nod and smile a little, then he’ll look past Yixing to catch the strange look on Jongdae’s face.
“Are you feeling alright, Minseok?” Jongdae will ask, “You’re looking a little pale.” Minseok will take this opportunity to make a much needed escape as his heart pounds uncomfortably in his chest and his shirt feels suffocatingly tight.
“Ah… no, actually, I’m not feeling that great. I think I might just go lie down for a bit, sorry.” Fleeting concern etches across Jongdae’s face as he makes his way around the bench to Minseok, arms extended towards him. Minseok will quickly step back in the direction of his room, dreading Jongdae’s gentle touch. Jongdae will stop, confusion brushing his features at Minseok’s retreat and Minseok’s gaze will flick briefly to Yixing, noticing him watching their exchange curiously.
“Do you need anything? Aspirin? Water?” Jongdae will persist, worry evident in his tone.
_I need you. Only you. Always you. Please, just come back to me. Just be mine forever and ever._
“No, no… I’m fine, really, I’m just exhausted.” Minseok will counter, bile rising in his throat and tears welling in his eyes. He will turn from Jongdae and Yixing, briefly catching the latter’s equally concerned expression and hurry to his room, hearing Jongdae call out to his retreating figure,
“If you need anything, just call out to me, yeah?”
Minseok won’t respond, but will close his bedroom door behind him and head directly to his bathroom. He’ll close that door as well to try and contain the sounds of him collapsing in front of the toilet and dry heaving into the bowl.
His stomach will feel like it’s full of acid and his head will throb as he wretches between sobs, nothing coming up but wrecked cries that he will desperately try to stifle. He’ll force himself up to the shower and turn on the water hard, fearing that Jongdae or Yixing will hear his distraught weeping and race to his room, only to find him crumpled on the cold, hard tiles, the force of his distress wracking his entire frame.
\---------- | daa5098fd0034e05b840c6f43c0292ec | ['36019c105d454799b4b7af6ef9827b51'] | Jongdae lets Chanyeol take the lead, slacking his grip and allowing his head to fall back onto Chanyeol’s shoulder. He gasps weakly as his orgasm approaches, hips jumping forward of their own accord. Jongdae turns his head to gaze at Chanyeol through hooded eyes, watching as Chanyeol turns to look down at him, letting his eyes fall closed. Chanyeol strains to press their lips together briefly, murmuring soft encouragements,
“You were so good for me, Dae. You’re so beautiful, come on, you’re so close…”
And Jongdae comes, body pulling in on itself as the white streaks disperse amongst the water.
Chanyeol gently helps Jongdae turn around and holds him in his tired arms. Jongdae wraps his own arms weakly around Chanyeol, burying his face in the crook between his neck and shoulder and sighing contentedly. After a minute or two of weary floating, Chanyeol chuckles,
“You look like a prune, hyung.”
“Way to kill the mood, Chanyeol.” Jongdae grumbles.
“Someone had to take the initiative to get us out of the water.”
“First you’re so damn keen to get in and now you can’t wait to get out.”
“Alright, firstly, you’re exaggerating. Secondly, you look like you’re about to fall asleep and I don’t want to have to drag you out of the pool to keep you from drowning.”
“You’re going to have to help me get out anyway, my muscles are done for the night.”
Chanyeol presses a kiss to Jongdae’s forehead, “Sure thing, hyung.”
With a bit of effort, Chanyeol manages to help Jongdae clamber out of the pool. Jongdae laughs shamelessly when Chanyeol tries to hoist himself out, but his arms give out halfway and he ends up splashing theatrically back into the water. Chanyeol is still smiling, though, when Jongdae pulls him weakly out of the pool.
Jongdae cries out when Chanyeol shakes his head like a wet dog, water droplets spraying everywhere.
“Are you actually five years old?” Jongdae laughs, but he shakes his own head in retaliation, attempting to get Chanyeol back with some of the spray. Chanyeol just ruffles Jongdae’s hair with a chuckle and picks his shorts up off the ground, pulling them on despite his damp skin. In the summer warmth, he knows he’ll dry off soon enough.
Jongdae follows suit, opting to go commando and hold onto his still soaked boxers, and once appropriately dressed, the pair exit through the pool gate.
Chanyeol takes Jongdae’s hand after locking the gate behind them and turns to meet his eyes,
“Thanks for indulging me, hyung.” Chanyeol says, smile shy but genuine in its gratitude. Jongdae smiles back,
“You’re welcome, Yeollie. Although I am ninety-nine percent sure that Romeo and Juliet didn’t actually do it in the pool.”
“Their loss. We just improved on the story.”
“I’m not complaining.” Jongdae’s smile turns into a grin, and he pulls Chanyeol down to press their lips together one last time before they head out into the warm night. |
730fee7b8cc14e598cb645d9ce1f4692 | ['36056f88ce674895a0ac8f2893736672'] |
Petit Chaton
**Author's Note:**
> I am so sorry. Please just send me to my room because I am a terrible human people that can't allow anyone to be happy. They don't deserve this help
It was three a.m. when Adrien woke up from a nightmare filled with sweet smiles and bright green eyes, his heart heavy.
He gasped for breath and clutched at his chest in attempt to ease the anguish, but it was in vain. The grief squeezed at his heart and he had never been in so much pain in his life.
Not when his father forgot his birthday.
Not even when his mother left.
It shouldn’t have hurt so much, he thought as he stared into the darkness of the room. He didn’t even know what she would have looked like, but his petit chaton still found a way to plague his thoughts every second.
It was becoming unbearable.
He sat up in the large bed, careful not to wake his wife, and stared up at the ceiling, whispering “I’m so sorry” before he choked up and quickly covered his mouth.
He had been so excited, ecstatic, to meet her, but now his princess was gone before she even had a chance to live.
He let out a shaky breath and put his head in his hands, holding in a sob.
Her name was going to be Emma.
Marinette had picked out the name. It was simple and she loved it. She had practically begged him to agree on the name and, of course, he was never one to deny his lady.
Besides, it was a pretty name for what was going to be a beautiful girl.
Him and Marinette had decided that she was going to have his green eyes and her freckles. Though, he didn’t see the significance in his eyes, he preferred Marinette’s bright blue ones after all, she always had an obsession with them and prayed that their daughter would have them, as well.
As for the freckles, Adrien loved the way they dotted his wife’s adorable, chubby cheeks.
But no matter what features she had, he knew his Emma was going to be perfect.
He also knew he would have to fight off the boys, and/or girls, when she grew older, which he was prepared for. He was determined to be a great father and he knew that Marinette was going to be a perfect mother.
It was something that he looked forward to.
It was also something that would never happen.
Marinette had been so close too, only a few weeks until her due date when she miscarried.
_Miscarried._ He shuttered at the word.
He couldn’t even imagine how his wife felt. She had spent all of those months with the angel in her belly, bonding with her, all for her to be taken away within seconds.
_And for her to wake up in the middle of the night to that._
Adrien took a deep breath and spared a glance towards where Marinette slept beside him, only to find her space on the bed empty, aside from Tikki and Plagg dozing on her pillow.
He narrowed his brows, growing worried at her absence, and squinted his eyes in an attempt to see in the dark room. "Mari?"
When he didn't receive an answer, he rose up from the bed and exited the room to search for his missing wife.
“My lady?” He called out into the quiet house as he entered the living room, which was dimly lit by a floor lamp in the corner.
His eyes searched the room before they landed on his wife, who was sitting on the floor beside her sewing station. She clutched a ripped piece of fabric to her chest as she stared, blankly, at the pile of additional ripped clothing in front of her.
It was clothing she had made for Emma, he realized.
Upon noticing his presence, she looked up at him and gave him a watery smile “Hey kitty.”
He sucked a breath before stepping over to her position on the floor. It took all of his strength not to pull her up and wrap the woman into his arms, carrying her away from all of this torment _._
“What are you doing up, princess?” He asked, taking a seat beside her on the floor.
“The same reason you are.” She mumbled, her voice weak.
He sighed and gazed down at the pile of ripped material, noticing a piece on the top of it. He picked up the green fabric, examining the paw print pattern on it. “This is new.”
“I thought it would help to make more,” She whispered, biting her lip. “but all it did was remind me of her.”
“So you ripped up everything else you made too?” He frowned and gestured towards the pile “Marinette, Princess, you spent months on all of this.”
She glared at the pile, before glancing up at her husband with grief-stricken eyes
“I couldn’t handle it anymore. It hurts to look at them just _knowing_ ” Marinette’s voice cracked. So she paused and closed her eyes, tightening her grip on the fabric in her hands, a tiny shirt with a ladybug pattern. It was Marinette’s favorite outfit _,_ he remembered _._ She took a deep breath before continuing “that they are never going to be worn.”
He cautiously raised a hand to cup her cheek, turning her to face him. She opened up her eyes at the contact and stared at him with her wet, blue eyes. Her lips pulled into a smile, but the sides of her mouth quivered as she added in a voice that shattered his heart “She doesn’t need them, anymore, Adrien.”
“Marinette-“
“It just hurts so much” her smile dropped and she broke eye contact with him, turning back forward and throwing the tattered Ladybug outfit against the wall with a cry. | e3288099d357476080464fc2bba12da3 | ['36056f88ce674895a0ac8f2893736672'] | She shivered, silently vowing to never touch, or look at that counter again. Helping her parents at this point was simply out of the question. There was no way she was going to serve innocent customers macrons in the same place her dream self and Chat rubbed up against each other in a way that was not innocent in the slightest.
The girl cringed at the thought and decided that she needed some air.
Marinette sighed at her Adrien-less wall as she slipped out of the bed, pulling her cover around her shoulders. She made her way up to her balcony and when she opened to latch, the frigid Parisian air blew against her face, which helped cool down her body, slightly, but her heart still felt like it’s about to burst.
She didn't know how much more of this she could take. There was no way that she could keep dreaming every night about her _fighting companion_ taking away her innocence and then act casually around him the next day.
To be honest, She was beginning to become sleep deprived and frankly, she did not want to constantly think about Chat Noir ravishing her.
A small thought in the back of her mind told her otherwise.
She slouched in a bench that sat against the wall of her house and pulled the cover tight around her. Looking up at the sky, she guessed that it was early morning. The sun had not risen yet, but the rays were beginning to peep out over the horizon.
She watched the sunrise, her loose hair blowing in the breeze.
The quiet morning calmed her down, slightly, but her mind was still racing so there was no way she was going back to sleep anytime soon.
‘ _This has to stop’_ She thought, defeated. After having a dream like that two nights in a row, however, it was obvious her hormonal brain did not plan on giving up any time soon. ‘ _Why Chat, though?’_
She pondered the thought and it didn't make sense. Maybe in a world without Adrien, she would have considered him. The two do boys did share a few physical similarities, after all, and she did care for Chat, but Adrien was sweet and gave her butterflies. While Chat Noir was flirty and cocky and . . . _his puns,_ but he did have his perks. Besides, he cared for her, well Ladybug, at least.
She shook her head and pushed the thought away. This was not helping. Either way, she definitely did not have feelings for Chat.
‘ _Stop lying to yourself_ ’
She grumbled and buried her head in her hands. Why did this have to happen to her? She was perfectly fine being innocently in love with Adrien, but no, her sixteen-year-old mind just had to go and throw the cat into the mix. And for _some reason_ , this cat was currently making her more sexually frustrated than the boy she had been after for years.
So why wasn't she having sexy dreams about Adrien? It would definitely have made this situation a hundred times less confusing. He was nothing short of attractive and she would gladly allow him to claim her innocence on top of the bakery's counter, dream or not. _Like that would happen._
Her thoughts returned to her companion, which caused her heart to skip a beat. She let out a huff as she glared down at her chest and pointed her finger at the location of her heart. "Get out right now Chat Noir." she warned "You're not welcome here!"
"Claw-fully early to be yelling at yourself, Princess."
She jumped at the voice with a squeak and quickly looked up. As soon as she saw the pointy black ears and that smug smile, she went wide-eyed and quickly pulled the blanket over her face to hide her embarrassment.
‘ _Seriously? This is literally THE WORST possible time’_
“Go away.” Her voice was muffled through the material.
“Is that any way to greet a guest?”
“Intruder.” She corrected.
She could hear him chuckle as he took a seat beside her on the bench. He pulled the blanket off of her face and smirked when she glared at him.
“Are you hiding from me?”
She squinted her eyes at the sudden brightness.
When her eyes finally adjusted, she suddenly realized how close he was to her. So she scooted as far to the edge of the chair as possible.
“O-Of c-course not! I’m just. . .” She blinked blankly. “cold.”
Her burning face said otherwise.
“Need someone to warm you up? A cat, purr-haps?”
_‘Not this again._ ’
“No, no, I’m fine!” she made a show of pulling the blanket around herself tighter and gave him a thumbs up.
He laughed and she noticed him shiver, slightly. The leather suit was probably as thin as her own spandex and the next sentence was out before she could stop herself. “. . . Are you cold?”
“Fureezing.”
Marinette hesitated before opening up the blankets. The boy looked almost shocked as she scooted closer to him and wrapped the other half around his shoulder.
“Better?”
“Much.”
His arm brushed hers and Marinette let out a nervous cough to hide her quick inhale. She scooted away, slightly.
“So what brings you here?” She asked breaking the brief silence.
“To see you, of course, princess.”
“This early?”
“To be honest, I was looking for Ladybug. She patrols this area some mornings” He confessed “You were just a nice surprise.”
"I'm honored, kitty." she laughed
He gave her a bright smile, which she returned, and turned to look forward at the rising sun. |
950231afb41e4b86b1c279e5c99b0545 | ['36088275477f4b7fba36e7e525b61f5c'] | Draco opened his mouth to speak but Harry instantly cut him off: "No!" now he looked at Draco trying to capture his pale eyes, "There is nothing wrong with you. I couldn't help you Malfoy. You were trapped in fear, and suffering and I couldn't help you anymore than I could help any of the people who died in the war. And NO I'm not blaming myself either, it was their war too and they fought for what they believed in. But you do have to admit Draco... I hardly even tried. I cried for every life lost, and every wounded person but I didn't even try to help you. What, a few empty words in the heat of a fight? Yeah, what an attempt.."
"I don't blame you," said Malfoy unsure of how he felt at the moment but entirely sure that it wasn't Harry's fault in any way.
"No, I know. I'm not asking you to, I'm not saying you should, but you shouldn't blame yourself for things you didn't do. You stood with your family under pain of death, or worse. You were never evil, Draco, I was just too blind to see that."
"I should have died fourth year," Draco said coldly, hiding the effect that Harry's words were having on him, he didn't want to listen, he still felt a black stain on his heart and mind, "I should have taken the punishment and you know it. That year or any year after it, any day after that, I could have said no. I should have refused, like you would have."
"And then you'd be dead, Malfoy! And DONT say that would be a good thing!" Harry stood now turning to face the boy that sat beneath him staring over still water, "I don't want you dead. I'm just as glad that you're still here as you are but maybe your reasons are the wrong ones."
Draco rolled his wet, reddening eyes, "Oh please, Potter, you wouldn't have minded at the time would you have? You've always hated me."
"Yes, I would care! And yes, I did hate you, Draco," as he spoke with rising emotion Harry fell to his knees face- to-face with this seemingly unfixable boy, "but what about when I found out how brave you were? I would carry this guilt with me through my entire life. You're a better person than you think and I would never have gotten to tell you that.. I would have only realized how good you are by losing you! I would only know that I lived my life hating a wonderful man."
Draco's steel eyes turned to meet the green of Harry's before he dropped his gaze once again and looked back to the lake.
"A wonderful man?... How can someone like you say that to someone like me? I was cowardly and always jealous of you, I wanted your friends, your fame, your bravery.. I wanted you and I wanted to be you." Draco whispered with a scoff, "Precious Potter grew up to be savior of our world Potter and I stayed exactly the way I was."
Harry stayed silent as annoyance and disbelief grew in his impatience, he let out a small sigh, "You're right," he admitted, "you're just as overdramatic as always."
No one had seen Draco's smile in years and Harry felt lucky to get to see it after such a long time. Harry couldn't help smiling as he took in the sight, he didn't think Draco had ever actually smiled at him, they had always been enemies. Harry never knew what he was missing until now.
"I haven't seen you smile in a long time," Draco said, finally looking at Harry.
"Yeah, same.." replied the Gryffindor who's emerald eyes seemed to be glued to the Slytherin next to him. Harry pulled himself to his feet and extended a large hand to take Draco's smaller snowy one, pulling him from the ground.
Draco had been planning on staying for a little while but he'd never pass a chance like this.
The two walked toward Gryffindor tower together, all of their classmates used the common room as a hang-out of sorts. Draco rarely went because of Harry's animosity, he only went if he was asked which surprisingly did happen from time to time.
When the pair walked in a couple of the more obnoxious students mock cheered, some sent silent glances anywhere from smirks to glares. Hermione was reading on the couch in front of the fire and gave the two a wide smile when she saw them. She quickly jumped up from the middle and politely insisted that the two sat next to one another. While Draco assumed she didn't want to have sit next to him (and he didn't blame her,) her actual goal was to ensure the pair stayed next to the other.
The three shared a stimulating, if not confusing conversation, for a bit, covering a plethora of topics that only Hermione really understood (although Draco kept up much better than Harry could.) It wasn't long until Hermione noticed the time and hoped up chirping about her schedule as she fluttered around the common room collecting her books in her arms and lugging them out routinely.
Soon the other students filtered out as well, after all even war survivors still had classes.
"Are you still too good to cut class?" Malfoy asked hopefully, his voice beginning to be re-touched with his old Slytherin mischief.
"Hm," Harry pretending to have to consider the suggestion before agreeing, "I think I can afford to miss one or two classes." | 9d1686c331d14ecfa34176d52a69bc2b | ['36088275477f4b7fba36e7e525b61f5c'] |
1. Intro
It hadn't been that long since Harry had seen Malfoy, but he had almost forgotten the bully of a boy even existed since his earlier mocking. That is until Hagrid's' class.
Malfoy slithered through the crowd of students making his way leisurely toward Harry with amusement in his eyes of steel. Quite suddenly the lanky boy was eye to eye with a warry young Potter.
The blush spread lightly across Harrys' face without any sort of his permission as he glared up into stormy eyes, which quickly rose above and behind Harry.
"Domentor! Domentor!" shouted Malfoy distorting his face as he backed away pointing wildly.
Harry spun where he stood but as he saw nothing was there he heard Draco's weasel laugh and felt his chest tighten at the laughter coming from his classmates. Before he could redeem himself, or more likely embarrass himself further, Ron pulled him away whispering to console him as he dragged him off.
This memory played through Harry's head for the rest of the day. Maybe he was just tricking himself into thinking about it because Malfoy got hurt, he probably just felt guilty. Harry was vividly aware that replaying the scene endlessly was a strange form of guilt. 'Malfoy was hardly even hurt,' he huffed to himself as he walked toward his bed ready to rest.
'Hardly a scratch, what a baby,' Harry thought to himself but as he climbed under the deep red sheets bleeding heart Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was really okay thinking that: 'after all, a scratch can hurt too,right? and Buckbeak is really strong..'
2. Chapter 2
The next day Harry awoke to feel rather miffed. Sitting up in his bed groggily, he saw Ron still slumbering peacefully (sort of, there was allot of drool involved.) All of his housemates were still asleep except for those certain few who rose before the sun, normally Harry loved waking up to this sight, it had always made Harry feel as if he had a home here. Today however, Harry just felt anxious to get to class and pulled himself out of bed hastily.
The pressure in Harry's chest refused to subside through breakfast and honestly only felt worse. He wished he could sprint through time today, but he wasn't exactly sure when he wanted to get to anyway. Ron kept Harry distracted with conversation for the most part but his eyes kept drifting to Slytherin table where he couldn't help but notice a certain pureblood was not sitting.
Hermione's hand rested gently on Harrys back as she pulled his mind back to their table with a sympathetic look.
"Give it up, Harry! He'll be fine, an' it's not like it's your fault anyway!" exclaimed Ron crashing back into Harry's head. "Personally I'm glad, I mean Someone had to teach him something right?" Ron continued, trying to cheer up Harrys clearly dampened mood
"Oh hush, Ronald!" Hermione chimed in "He's obviously upset!" she hissed, as if it would prevent Harry from hearing.
"Wha-?! I'm fine! I'm just.." Harry hesitated mid-sentence looking for an answer, "nervous!" he got out thankfully continuing to explain he said, "There's a game coming up, you know? Against Slytherin no less, that's all it is, really." The words came out firm enough for Harry to stand on but when he saw Hermione and Ron share a look his footing crumbled once again as he realized it really sounded like he was just convincing himself.
There was a pause for a moment before Hermione asked, "Really?" in her signature prying tone that just screams 'Tell me I'm right.'
Before Harry could reply Ron once again piped up, "Well I for one believe him," he said smiling mischievously. "I mean if I were 'm I'd be worried about being able to focus on a game against Slytherin too, in his condition an' all."
Harry lifted his brow in confusion hesitant to take the bait he glanced Hermione's hard face before asking, "What do you mean?" cautiously.
When Ron hesitated Harry looked once more to Hermione who gave Ron an evil glare that screamed: "Shut it, Ronald!"
Whatever Ron meant by "condition" the two had clearly discussed before.
Panic rose in Harry's chest only beat out by the preexisting tension from yesterday. His eyes shot back to his best friend snickering down at his plate.
"what? what is it?" Harry demanded kicking Ron under their breakfast.
"Nothing!" Ron said through a grin filled with chicken and potatoes, "just remember what you Should be watching during the game is gold not blonde!" Ron burst out laughing spewing his "breakfast" across the table.
Hermione flew to her feet slapping Ron in his fiery red head, "That is not funny Ronald!" she scolded.
"Yeah, it's not," said Harry joining Hermione on his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about! And you want to talk about quidditch, well you're supposed to watch The GAME through the binoculars, not your "friend" right next to you!" With that both Ron and Hermione got silent and Harry stormed away blushing down to his chest.
3. Chapter 3
Harry spent every class describing exactly how wrong Ron was over in his head. He was the best seeker this school had ever seen, he was Harry Potter. If he even noticed Malfoy during a game it was because he was in the way. And for that matter Harry Hated Malfoy! He had always hated Malfoy He was Glad that Buckbeak- at that moment Harry stepped into Snape's doorway and smack into another person.
"Sorry," Harry stammered as he realized that it was his own fault as he hadn't been watching where he was going. The student spun 'round, obviously annoyed he had just been rammed into, only to be the very distraction that had Harry in the clouds.
Malfoy sneered at Harry "Excuse you! What do you think you're grinning about Potter!?" Malfoy spits out as his goons hovered close behind. |
7c3e8fd713eb49ea87ec5eac12c7df87 | ['36168d9914c84d32be4bcb4f10ecb02b'] | ‘’As I understand you’ve never been here before?’’
She said without even looking back at him.
‘’Yes, I’ve only started this part of my education’’
Katagawa answered quickly and without any unnecessary words.
‘’Hmm…’’
They stopped briefly at the door where Lynne put out her card to open the door. They opened quickly with a quite whoosh revealing what was inside.
They went into a conference room like any other. She then marched to take the closest chair and then sat down. Lynne then made a move with her left hand, pointing a chair opposite her so Katagawa could sit down there.
And he did without much happiness inside himself.
‘’I have some task that I should asignate you but before I do I feel like I should explain something.’’
She put her hands together at the top of the table, starring him in the eyes lazily. The cleavage was made more visible due to that movement. Anyone in the position in which Katagawa was could see the swell of her breasts just teasingly peaking out.
He stared at her, not taking his eyes away from hers. He knew what was she doing and he wouldn’t fell for it - such primitive reaction and impulses were below him.
She clearly would use everything she could and that said a lot about the person he had to deal with.
‘’I’m all ears.’’
He said quite seriously, he just wanted to have this meeting out of the way.
‘’Cute.’’ Her voice was deadpan, not at all reflecting the meaning of the word said at loud. She was clearly not amused that her little trick hadn’t worked on him.
Oh well… you should always expect the unexpected.
‘’But I’m where I am because of competence’’ She added after a second.
‘’Are you implying something?’’ Katagawa’s voice dropped dangerously low, he felt his smile freezzing on his face. There was a line that he wouldn’t let anyone cross even if his façade would be damaged. He wouldn’t let this bottom feeder, pathetic piranha in the sea of sharks, insult his intelligence and competence - insult him and imply that his dear old daddy helped him in any way or made his life easier.
He saw her muscle tense and then forcefully relax. She tried to save her face after playing her hand wrong.
‘’No, not at all.’’
She nonchalantly leaned back in the chair, breaking eye contact with him.
After a minute she continued as if nothing had happened.
‘’Propaganda is crucial in every business. It’s information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote a political cause or point of view. And what are our politics? Making the best guns in the world’’
She looked out the window, deep in thought.
‘’Aren’t they?’’
‘’What?’’
She slowly turned around to look at him with confused expression on her face.
He nearly rolled his eyes at the woman.
‘’Aren’t our guns the best in the world? Is it really propaganda when you spread true information?’’
He asked innocently but there was nothing innocent about what he said. He knew in what position he had put her, either she would admit that Maliwan’s guns were not as good as the company said it were which would end with her… termination or another option would be admitting that what she said was not true and thus undermining her knowledge and competence in a position she was in.
Katagawa knew she had caught on with the situation because her smirk told him so.
‘’Ohh I see what you did here.’’
She sounded impressed as if she never expected to take part in verbal chess with him; like he was a dog who did a magic trick.
‘’That’s why this department is called advertisement and propaganda’’
‘’What should I do here?’’ He leaned in his own chair, copying her posture.
‘’An advertisement. Usually there is a whole team of people sitting in one room, thinking about the best way to promote guns but… there was an accident. So you’ll going to come up with something catchy and interesting’’
She waved her hand as if she wanted to dismiss the very notion.
‘’So what was the point of a whole team if may I ask?’’
He relaxed his body even more, projecting a message of someone who didn’t felt threatened. In reality he didn’t let his guard down. The worst attack came when you least expect them.
‘’None! That’s why there is no team anymore!’’
What a waste of funds, it was good that someone in the corporation saw a need in cutting some people off.
‘’CEO himself decided that you are a right person at the right time in this dire situation!’’
She became livelier, as if there was some switch flipped on, making her behaving differently. Suddenly she was being nice? He didn’t buy it.
‘’How much time do I have to think of something?’’
‘’Hmm… three hours? Something like that. You can use some old schemes’’
Yet again she waved her hand and smirked at him.
‘’You know what, young Katagawa? I’ll give you some tips because I like you! I really think that you have potential!’’
‘’It’s nice of you to say so’’
What was this bull? He didn’t have the time for playing games with a player with low experience and pathetic skills. If her propaganda was as good as her manipulation then he wasn’t surprised with quality of their ads. He did some research and it showed how much sales plumed down due to wrongly executed marketing.
‘’At least you listened! Not many young man to that for an old lady such as myself’’ Lynne touched her chest feigning surprise.
‘’Anyways, this is what you need to know: People are stupid’’
So he waited all this time to learn something he had already known? | 6c9f68b87b984296a2a54ac794e61a21 | ['36168d9914c84d32be4bcb4f10ecb02b'] | He demanded. He didn’t believe her weak excuse. She was just too afraid of doing it; she didn’t have the goods to do it. Naoko simply lacked too like in any other. She would probably be scared and panicked if she ever saw a dead body. He nearly chucked at the image of her doing it herself.
‘’Because I want us to be the family we never had, isn’t it obvious?’’
‘’Of course’’
He couldn’t contain his sarcasm.
‘’You still don’t believe me’’
She glared at him and crossed her arms on her chest.
‘’Why would you think that? You made it quite clear the first ten thousand times’’
‘’Clearly not if this is your attitude’’
She actually sounded angry now.
His temper flared alongside hers.
‘’What is that supposed to mean?’’
‘’Exactly what I said! You always try to find the hidden meaning behind the most altruistic of moves!’’
‘’Everybody would be a little suspicious about someone’s interest in them just before the ranking’’
He spat at her and because of that she lost her momentum for a second before she regained it again and came closer.
‘’Well then… Get it into your thick head’’
She poked his chest harshly.
‘’If I wanted to kill you I would probably hire someone and give them a gun with your name on it! I wouldn’t bother with some sick and twisted games!’’
She ended up yelling and then she turned around and stormed away from him.
7. Chapter 7
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> What is this year? I hope you are all alright!
>
> It's more dialogue heavy, writing block is really no fun.
This was the first time he was left behind, gaping like a fish after his sister.
Who did she think she was?
Katagawa scoffed and turned around sharply, moving away from whatever that was.
She wasn’t someone who could threaten him and then walk away as if nothing happened. Such sudden interest was suspicious and gift giving wasn’t a thing between any of them. Naoko herself wasn’t keen on interacting with him so much before this weird fight with the other one.
Maybe they were trying to trick him and then had a laugh at him expense, giggling between each other how little Katagawa fell over himself for the barest scraps of positive attention.
If so… he wasn’t going to be the one that could be laugh at.
He was furious. Why everything that unpleasantly unexpected had had to happen during his birthdays? Or near enough that particular day. Couldn’t he for once get something nice like unexpected news that his father choked and died in a painful way? Or that he became CEO of Maliwan and as he was on the stage getting his applause, he could clearly see crestfallen look on his siblings’ faces? Even winning a few bucks would be better even though he wasn’t poor by any stretch of imagination.
Katagawa was marching towards R&D department when he saw a garbage can standing nearby. He debated with himself whether or not he should take this small detour, risking a chance to meet another pest on his way. On one hand it would be troublesome to talk with someone when he would like to terminate everybody but on the other there was a wooden thing in his fist.
It wouldn’t be good for his first impression to arrive with something like that when he wanted to talk about a scientific issue.
He quickly turned towards the bin and dumped his trash inside. He heard a dull sound and went on his way as it was supposed to be from the very beginning of this day.
Fortunately he didn’t see anyone, as it was he was already pissed off and if there was anyone in his way right now, he would stab them with the knife he always have in his sleeve.
He saw normal, metal door with a handle. That small detail made him smirk a little bit.
Without further adieu, he bargained inside the room, letting the door hit the wall with a loud bang.
‘’Good afternoon?’’
He asked, realizing that it was uncharacteristically quiet. No one was there. No lights, no sighs of human beings or otherwise. He turned around but it was no use – he couldn’t see anything in here. The only source of light was coming from the hallway and it wasn’t enough to illuminate the whole room.
‘’Hello?’’
A crash somewhere alerted him to the presence of someone else in the room. His hand slowly inched towards another, searching for a hard object inside his sleeve.
He felt himself freeze suddenly.
He didn’t take his knife with him.
How stupid of him!
He was so occupied with this Hyperion trash that he didn’t do the most important thing before going out!
Suddenly he felt a presence behind him.
‘’Good afternoon Mr. Katagawa Junior’’
He turned towards the voice. Katagawa was fully prepared to use his fists to defend himself if necessarily but before he could even do that the light were turned on and the only thing he could see was white.
He raised his hand to shield his eyes a little and blinked some to get use to the brightness. It took him some time to focus and see the person responsible for this assault on his sight.
It was a man with shoulder length, purple-ish hair and dark eyes with big bags underneath them. His skin was so white it was nearly translucent, definitely sick looking probably due to spending so much time indoors. He was tall and nearly unnaturally thin like a twig ready to snap in half with a slightest breeze. He couldn’t guess his age and it wasn’t mentioned in the files.
‘’Good afternoon. Are you the Head of R&D?’’ |
9625bfb11c7a4ca4acda61fc2f5d7a22 | ['361db251558a41e68aa27b816a5764e5'] | “You told me, that before your name was Neil, you were called Abram.”
“I told you that?” Chris tried to understand his actions, but couldn’t come up with any reason for it. Was he forced? Did Andrew find out his secret? “Why?”
Andrew ignored the question. “You told me you were telling the truth. You lied.”
Chris felt an involuntary urge to defend himself. He didn’t even know Andrew, but he felt a need to justify his actions, even if he couldn’t remember them.
He loosened a frustrated breath. Why did he even care?
“What is it then? What’s the truth?” Andrew prompted. “Don’t lie to me this time.”
Chris didn’t know him, and he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. “Fuck off.”
Andrew’s eyes glinted angrily, but there was also- was that pain? Chris frowned. That didn’t make sense. He opened his mouth to speak but had no time before Andrew turned tail and left.
Chris ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach that settled as Andrew walked away.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> wow me with an actual update?? i’m as shoOk as you are trust me
>
> anyways, forgive me for the unedited pile of shit you just read. i will go over it but if u see any plot holes or things that don’t make sense it’s because i wrote all of these scenes out of order so idk if it’s all right and makes sense.
>
> still, i hope u enjoyed it nonetheless my lovelies,, please leave me a kudos or a comment below- thanks! <3 | 0bcf0061399242e4b5e0e8e6588fb2de | ['361db251558a41e68aa27b816a5764e5'] | Turning the pages idly, she scans each page, soaking up every bit of information she could find. It was incredibly intriguing- seeing the amount of spells she’d never even heard of. Ones that had once been wildly popular and commonly used. Of course, all of them were banned for a reason, similar to the three unforgivable curses, but she’d heard of them.
She’s almost read the entirety of the novel when she finally reaches a page on blood magic. Sitting up straighter, her eyes flit across the page in search of the curse.
_The blood summoning curse, which shall not be named due to the redaction of the spell, is a curse that_ _mirrors the vampiric._
_First created by Dr Lestrange for medical procedures, the spell was_ _originally used within St Mungo’s hospital to aid with cases of internal bleeding._
_However, it was removed from all curriculums and banned in 1831, after the spell was used in a killing spree which killed four people (See index for more.) by increasing the blood loss with the use of the ‘maximus’ spell._
_Once cursed, the victim will immediately begin to lose their blood. The wand holder may choose how much blood is extracted, from where and where the body goes (once taken from the body) by simply speaking their command aloud after performing the spell._
_As previously mentioned, this curse is similar in how a vampire would drink from a body, and it was the case that in 1831, the bodies were all completely drained, allowing the still-uncaught-killer to copy the skills of a vampire with a simple spell._
The book continues for a few more pages but Hermione doesn’t bother.
She’s find out more than she needed.
She sits back, numb with shock. The murderer could be a wiccan. After all this time, she’d been searching in the wrong corner.
Before, she had thought the fact that this case was a serial killer was enough to make Riddle antsy but she realised now, that that wasn’t the reason at all. The killer could be using the same banned curse that killed Riddle’s family all those years ago.
It might not be a vampire after all.
_Parkinson,_ Hermione’s mind immediately flies to the other woman. _Had she known? Did her source know if it was a wiccan or a vampire?_
_“You’re focused on the vampires, but there are other forces at work here.”_
Pansy’s words ring through her head.
She probably had known- why else would she say that? Parkinson had hinted from the very start that she didn’t think it was a vampire, but Hermione had been too dim too take notice.
She stands, quickly waving the book back to it’s place on the shelf and grabbing her cloak before striding out the door.
_Fuck_ the letter, she was going to get answers.
* * *
She apparates straight outside the door with a loud crack.
She bangs on the door a few times and then steps back, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits outside. The wind is strong and her dress whips around her body. She shivers and suddenly wishes she’d stopped for a second and thought to bring a cloak.
Her anger is almost simmering now, calmed by the few moments waiting in the cold. However, as soon as the door swings open, she’s reminded of her first visit and annoyance spikes. It had been so long since her first visit and Parkinson had yet to tell her anything straight.
“Miss?” The girl asks, her pale face looking up at her in confusion. Hermione takes a step forwards, pushing through into the hall. “Miss-”
“Parkinson!” Hermione shouts. Her raised voice echoes through the hallways. “Parkinson.”
“Miss! You can’t just-”
Hermione fixes her with a withering glare that shuts her up immediately. “Parkinson!”
”I thought I told you to call me Pansy?” The seductive drawl comes from above and Hermione cranes her neck to see Parkinson strolling casually down the stairs.
The casual tone inflames her anger even more. “Are you serious right now?”
Parkinson looks shocked, for once, but Hermione ignores it. “Calm down, darling, stop making such a fuss.”
“You knew!”
“Whatever are you talking about?” It seems genuine. Huh. Hermione is taken aback by the honest confusion in her voice.
”It’s a wiccan.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “Ah,” she smiles. “Finally. Well done, Hermione.”
” _Finally?_ ” Hermione says, aghast.
”Yes. I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion.”
“ _What?_ Why didn’t you tell me this _weeks_ ago?” Hermione is furious. “Why would you keep this from me?”
Parkinson folds her arms and raises a brow. “Right, and you would have believed me if I’d told you so the very first time we met?”
”Maybe.” She raises her chin defiantly.
Parkinson sighs. “Do you really believe that?” The resignation in her expression cools Hermione’s temper instantly and her defence crumbles.
“I guess not,” She admits. “I probably wouldn’t have.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I would have told you if I’d know it would be this catastrophic.” Parkinson looks genuinely regretful and Hermione’s heart warms slightly.
”No, it’s okay. You were right.” Hermione feels a burning shame that threatens to climb out of her throat. It feels tight. “I’m the one who should be apologising.”
Parkinson makes her way down the rest of the stairs from where she’s standing and gently takes ahold of Hermione’s wrist. “It’s alright. You know now, and that’s what matters. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. You can meet him now.”
”Him?”
Parkinson’s loops her arm through Hermione’s and pulls her through into the house. “My source.”
* * *
They come to a door at the end of the hall and Parkinson puts a hand against Hermione’s chest, stopping her from going any further. |
0a8379d6715644e5b0779118775133d3 | ['362ee4829c534684b67f0dfd42a53374'] | “This... this is a prank. I know it! Sasha's behind it I bet!” He immediately called the chestnut haired girl, asking her about the text. He was furious. Marco tried to calm him down but he wouldn't be calm until Sasha admitted it was a prank. But she didn't. Instead, she gave the phone to Mikasa herself.
“Hello, Jean.” She said. Stoic as always.
“M-mikasa!” he began.
“Did you got my text?” He heard her saying.
Jean was surely having the worst _and_ the best day of his life.
4. An antisocial friend
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> There it is, the next one will probably be way longer, including almost everyone who will sooner or later be a part of this ff ;>
>
> enjoy♥
“I tell you, Annie, he is so kind, I could talk to him all the time.”
“I do hope he is not just trying to sleep with you.”
“Oh shush you, not everyone is like _that_.”
Like every morning, Mina was brushing and styling Annie's hair. This time, slightly swooning over the freckled guy she's met and even talked with. Annie was some kind protective of her friend. The two of them knew each other only since they started their college, but they really formed a friendship. Mostly because of the fact that Annie liked the company of not many people. She could count the people she felt comfortable with on her one hand, while Mina was the rather friendlier one. Sure she also felt comfortable with not many people but she felt the best with her close friends.
After she tucked Annie's hair into a bun, she fixed her own loose pigtails. They prepared all the things they had to take with them to class and later on. While getting the last things done, Mina noticed a little white package in Annie's drawer. While not being a fan of cigarettes herself, she knew Annie wouldn't go through a day without them. She also never forgot them, so to Mina's surprise, even after she took the package out of the drawer, Annie didn't seem to care much, gave her roommate a sleepy stare and walked out of the door. Chuckling, Mina followed, leaving the cigarettes in their room.
On their way to the class, a tall guy poked their shoulders and grinned widely when they turned around.
“Reiner, what is it.” Annie muttered. She didn't even let him say 'Good morning' like he usually did with his, in Annie's eyes, arrogant posture.
“Nothing, I just thought the two of you would like to have some fun in a few days.”
Mina backed of, Annie's glare got worse, but Reiner continued.
“Me and a few friends are going to party at a local disco. Do you two wanna come as well?“ Both of the girls relaxed and Mina let out a sigh of relief and smiled, answering for her and her blonde friend.
“Yes, why not? I'm sure it will be fun.” with these words, the tall man smiled and walked off. Annie immediately turned to Mina, asking why she would want to go on a party where people like _Reiner_ are. Her petite friend just said, she would want to spend some time with her friends and have fun doing so, especially since it will be her first time going on a party. She also told Annie, that having her by Mina's side gives her courage, which made Annie smile slightly.
Once they arrived at their classroom, they could spot everyone but their teacher who should be there by now.
Annie just sat down and took her phone out. Mina sat down next to her and looked over her notes from previous lessons, muttering some things to herself.
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Annie**
**To: Eren**
gmorning, Eren. sup
\-----------------------------------------
The answer, which made Annie smile slightly, came after a few minutes.
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Eren**
**To: Annie**
Oh God, Annie, it's 8:00 in the morning.
\-----------------------------------------
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Annie**
**To: Eren**
sry for having earlier classes than you.
\-----------------------------------------
His classes always started at 10 o'clock in the morning, compared to her 8 o'clock classes, it was pretty late. Annie would love to sleep as long as he does almost every morning, getting out of bed isn't her favorite thing to do.
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Eren**
**To: Annie**
What is it anyway.
\-----------------------------------------
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Annie**
**To: Eren**
I just got invited to a party to which I rly dont wanna go so I need an excuse why I wont be there
\-----------------------------------------
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Eren**
**To: Annie**
And you thought of me?
\-----------------------------------------
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Annie**
**To: Eren**
youll prolly only practice stuff on your guitar so might as well listen and criticize you
\-----------------------------------------
\-----------------------------------------
**From: Eren**
**To: Annie**
For God's sake. But okay, I guess...
\-----------------------------------------
The blonde girl smiled slightly at the screen of her phone, putting her phone away as soon as her professor came in.
***
Later that day, Eren and Mikasa were walking around the college place, still thinking about who Armin's boyfriend could be. They didn't make it noticeable but they were really curious about it.
“What if it is a professor and that's why he won't say it directly?”
“Eren, I doubt that. Armin wouldn't go as far to do something with or _to_ a teacher.”
“It is possible though isn't it–“
“Shush, here he comes...” Mikasa cut her adoptive-brother off, as she saw their little friend approaching them.
He waved and had a smile all over his face, which Eren simply had to comment on.
“Were you in your boyfriend's room?”
“Eren, don't.”
“Actually... yea, I was. And I wanted to ask you guys something...” Armin rub his nose, he seemed to be embarrassed about asking.
_Could it be? Does he want us to meet his boyfriend?? It must be it!_ Eren thought. | ee9e6e5f3dd7475bb2b1234a3835518f | ['362ee4829c534684b67f0dfd42a53374'] | On their trip back to the campus, Eren and Annie drove with the bus, trying to hold on as they were forced to stand because of the crowd. She was keep asking him questions about his guitar and even about what he plays. He told her a few titles which she called 'boring' and 'outdated'. The whole three hours of their absence, they've been to the city. She showed him around a little bit since it was her home city. The city wasn't much to Eren's liking. He found it was way too loud. He wanted something more quiet.
Whenever they made a rest and sat down on a bench, he began playing “Wonderwall”. Annie just found it weird and kind of amusing that he walks around with a guitar like some street musician but knows only one song.
“Is that the only song you can play on your guitar completely?” She looked up, holding the pole tightly.
“Obviously not.” He gave her a short answer.
“Really? I only hear you play this one and no other.”
“You've known me since today only.”
“And you've played the song like... how many? Five times already?”
He gave her an annoyed look. He could play 'Wonderwall' and a lot of other songs but... None completely without messing up.
“It was you this morning wasn't it? I knocked at the wall with the hope you'd stop.” She added.
He didn't answer that, which made her grin slightly.
Once they arrived at the campus, there was one teacher in a long dark coat who was smoking and looking grumpy at them. He was clearly waiting for the two of them. As soon as they got off of the bus, he threw his fag to the ground, and walked up to them.
“First day and already skipping classes? What a nice way to start a semester.”
The teacher was a short, black haired man. He was just a bit taller than Annie, but way more built than Eren, which made them respect him a bit more because of his posture. Eren knew him for various reasons.
“We didn't have classes, it was just an useless introduction ceremony.” Annie murmured.
“I'm not the one who decided that you should be bored with the same thing every year. But nevertheless, it's obligatory to attend. And you didn't. Which means extra classes for the rest of the week with a colleague of mine. Isn't that fucking amazing?” he hissed. He was definitely annoyed by both Eren's and Annie's attitude since they didn't even care that they hadn't gone. Well... Eren was more concerned about it than Annie.
The short teacher gave Eren a quick look and told them that they will receive papers with their consequences and walked away.
The blonde girl just shrugged her shoulders while Eren went through his hair, sighing.
“What is it?” Annie glanced up at him, wondering why he seemed like the stuff the teacher said bothered him.
“Nothing it's just... it's weird to go to the university and the first teacher to shit on you is your sort-of-an-uncle, you know?”
“You are kidding me. Mr Ackerman is your uncle? You don't look related to him.”
“Well he's my sister's– adoptive sister's uncle. So yea.”
“Oh God.” She chuckled slightly at the thought.
Eren just furrowed his eyebrows and told her he will see her maybe later, to which she nodded and they parted ways.
***
“Yes, I should have kind of called you.”
“Or just be there on time. I can't believe it you rather sit and make extra papers instead of just showing up on time.”
“I already said I'm sorry, Mikasa.”
The black haired girl was simply annoyed. She was happy Eren was safe, but having him be in trouble isn't that much better. She played with the end of her kerchief and tried to calm down. Armin was already gone as he wanted to study a little bit. He blushed while saying it but neither Eren nor Mikasa gave it much thought.
“Hey, Jaeger, did I hear right? you got into trouble? Already? Haha!” the annoying voice from earlier this morning sounded from behind the siblings.
“It's so obvious that someone like you will get caught while skipping classes even if the whole school is busy. God you're such a lo– “
The moment Jean wanted to insult Eren, both siblings turned into his direction. Mikasa was looking Jean straight in the eye, watching out for anything she would _not_ want Jean to say which was directed to Eren. But he couldn't get a word out. He was simply stunned by her beauty. His heart was pounding so hard, he was afraid it would pop out of his chest any minute. He could feel his cheeks getting redder every second.
“....F-fuck.” Was the only word he managed to say. And that only with a slight stutter.
Mikasa already made herself a picture of what kind of a guy Jean is, therefore she simply grabbed Eren by the end of his sleeve and walked away, dragging him with her.
The ash-brown boy was just standing there in the hallway, still stunned by what he has just seen. He didn't know what made him _that_ speechless. Was it her pitch black hair? Her slim charcoal gray eyes? Or maybe just her whole appearance in general? He didn't know. What he did know was, that was the first woman – person, who made him speechless. And he loved it. He had to know more about her.
Suddenly he felt a hand resting on his shoulder. When he turned around he saw his best friend Marco smiling at him.
“Hey, Jean! I thought you wanted to go and grab something to eat.” the freckled boy claimed.
“Y-yea... I was going to do that.” After he cleared his throat, he continued “But... Dude, I just saw an angel.”
“Jean, don't...” |
2ddea67d6920409c9112e9781e4523f0 | ['362f6f1c523d4ff5961a1eae810eb28a'] | “Lay the fuck off my rookie.” Guy pushes up into Ovechkin's space.
Ovechkin laughs and smiles. “And if I don’t? What will you do about it?”
Guy smiles and it’s almost unnerving to see him finally smile at someone. Before Jack can blink twice both men have their gloves and helmets off and are holding one another at arm’s length, taking a swing here and there when they can. All it takes is one well placed punch on Guy for more Falconers to skate over, finding their presence answered by more of the Capitals. It’s like an explosion when Ovi hits Guy hard enough to start his nose bleeding. The refs are blowing their whistles even as both benches suddenly empty, pouring onto the ice. Jack skates backwards, not stopping until he’s back by their net.
Snowy sighs and shakes his head. “I wish I could get out there.”
Jack looks at him, startled. “What?”
“Until their goalie makes a move I’m stuck here if I don’t want my ass chewed out by the coaches,” he nervously shifts back and forth on his skates, “but whatever. You get any good swings in?”
“I...no I got out of there once they started fighting.” Jack shakes his head as the refs and linesmen are finally able to get players pulled apart, sending them back to the benches for now.
Snowy looks at him, lifting his mask to frown at Jack. “You dodged the bench clearer?”
“Yeah?”
“These are fucking rare. There’s like one or two a season in the damn league. And that fucker punched the shit out of Guy. Who was standing up for you.” Snowy shakes his head, looking confused.
“I...I don’t fight.” Jack skates off to join his teammates as the fight finally breaks up.
Even with all the penalties and Guy needing to go into the dressing room for a few minutes to get his nose set again after Ovi broke it, the Falcs still go from trailing by two to leading by one by the time the final buzzer sounds. The home crowd sighs and those that didn’t already bug out early drag their heels as they leave what had looked like a sure thing at the start of the third.
The dressing room is one big party as they change and give interviews. Everyone is telling and retelling who they fought and how many hits they got in. Finally Marty looks at Jack.
“So how did you like your first NHL fight? Certainly was a memorable one, eh?”
Jack stares for a moment but it’s Snowy that answers. “Jack didn’t fight.”
The dressing room gets suddenly quieter as everyone mumbles about it. Jack looks around, feeling his pulse starting to spike. Somehow he failed his team. He was just trying to help his team and not fail them but he did apparently. Fuck.
The relative silence is broken by a very bruised Guy who nods at Jack. “It’s okay. A bench clearing fight against the Caps isn’t exactly an easy induction into the tradition.”
Jack is thankful for the out but that word haunts him through the cooldowns, his time with the trainers, the interviews, and the flight back to Providence. Tradition. It’s tradition to fight in the NHL. Used to be there were people who made their career fighting. Hell even his uncle Wayne got into fights here and there. The face of the league has changed but they players still fight. Hell lots of teams fight in practice so they’re ready for the games. The Falcs could probably use to do that. Almost across the board they turned out worse for the wear compared to the Capitals tonight. But it didn’t matter. Winning a fight didn’t matter. The fight itself did.
It’s the early hours of the morning when he’s driving home but suddenly he finds his phone ringing. Bittle is asleep by this hour and so the call itself is worrisome. Jack can’t help but be surprised when he sees it’s his father. His father will call him here and there but this is...unusual. He greets his father in French, always glad to be able to slip into his first language.
“Papa, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Bob sighs over the line. “You didn’t fight tonight, son.”
“...no I didn’t.”
“Does your team know you didn’t fight?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And Guy made an excuse for me. But they weren’t...happy.”
“Jack are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you fight?”
Jack takes a deep breath. He’s never discussed this with his father. He’s just come off NCAA where he couldn’t have fought if he wanted to. But now? Well apparently now it’s time to have this conversation with his father. If he wasn’t awake for this drive home from the airport. before he certainly his now.
Jack takes a deep breath and nods to himself. “I...I’ve never really learned to fight. And I’m a scorer. The league is different than it was and my job is to just score. No one expects me to fight and so I don’t because if I fight I get penalties and if I get penalties then my team has to play without me and I don’t want to put them in that position.”
“Did you learn nothing watching me?”
“That was different.”
“How so? Aren’t you angry out there? Don’t you sometimes think you’d just like to clock someone?”
“All the damn time. But I can’t put my team on penalty kill.”
“I understand that Jack. But you have to be a part of the team.”
“I...am I not part of the team?”
“Son you know I am always proud of you. But tonight you’re not. Tonight the team got in a fight but you watched.”
“But Snowy--”
“Goalies rarely fight. Sure there’s Roy and a few others in the past but they usually don’t. And he wanted to fight. I could tell. But you didn’t. Jack you just looked scared.”
“I...I was scared.” | e227b576a0dc4c6c8e7138de0303c4cb | ['362f6f1c523d4ff5961a1eae810eb28a'] |
The Sorting Ceremony
Sherlock Holmes stormed down the narrow hallway between compartments, still hurling insults down the corridor behind him. Finally spotting the empty compartment he put his trunks and cat in earlier, he slammed the door open and stepped in, turning to lean out of the door and shout down to train car to the only other compartment with an open door,
"And don't you dare have the audacity to think I desire to be like you! I'd rather die!!"
He turned and threw himself into the plush bench, deep in pout. John Watson was sitting on the bench across from him, apparently invisible to the genius. A blush spread across his young face and he stammered when he spoke,
"S-Should I go?"
Sherlock looked up quickly and glared at the blonde boy, his own dark curls falling into his face from the sudden movement.
"How did you get in here?" he demanded.
John looked around, confused. "I've been here since right after the train left. I saw your things but I mean, the compartment was empty so…" he trailed off and his blush darkened under the cold gaze of the lanky boy across from him, "I can go."
When John stood Sherlock seemed to have the spell broken and stood as well.
"Wait, no. Please don't. I'm sorry."
John smiled and nodded, sitting again when Sherlock did. He extended a hand.
"Hello, I'm John Watson."
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock took John's hand and shook it. "Are you a first year too?"
John nodded quickly. "God yes. Entirely overwhelmed. You?"
Sherlock sat back and nodded a little but raised an eyebrow. "First year, yes. Overwhelmed, hardly. It's not like any of the other students can do magic right now. We're still in the city. It's another ten minutes until I can even hold a book up magically."
John's eyes widened. "You can already do magic?"
Sherlock scoffed then stopped, his face sobering. "Oh…you're muggle born, aren't you."
"Yeah. I never even knew this existed until someone came to the house to talk to my mum and dad when they threw the first letter out." He looked down at his hands.
Sherlock didn't know why but he was overcome by the need to reach out and take John's hands. John looked up and Sherlock smiled warmly at him, something he'd never really done with honesty before.
"It's fine. Don't be embarrassed. I can teach you some basics so no one has to know if you don't want them to." Sherlock removed his hand from John's and looked out the window as the countryside drew closer.
John's eyes brightened. "You will? Oh that'd be brilliant!"
"And don't let anyone give you shit about being muggle born. I come from a pure blood family and most of them can't tell their arse from a magical vortex."
"What?" John giggled.
Sherlock giggled too, infected by John's mirth. "Most of them are rich and lazy and those that aren't are so ambitious they forget how to live. My brother is turning into the latter."
John frowned. "Was he who you were shouting at?"
"Yeah. He's a sixth year and in Slytherin. He keeps telling me to get some ambition and fast or else I won't get in Slytherin. Says I'll besmirch the family name if I get put somewhere like Ravenclaw. Of course he's besmirching the family name every Saturday with that Hufflepuff boy but I mention that once and he hexes me so I can't taste sweet things for a month." Sherlock rolled his eyes and stretched out his already impossibly long legs, resting his ankles on the bench next to John.
"That sounds…" John shrugged. "So do you want to be in Slytherin?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No. I don't care about winning or success. I want to learn things. I…I'd really like to be in Ravenclaw. How about you?"
John blushed and looked down again. "I…I don't know much about them, actually. But from what I've read I suppose Hufflepuff would be okay."
Sherlock frowned and watched John's face. "You're lying. Where do you truly want to be."
"How did you know that?"
"I watched your face and deduced it. Simple enough. Where do you truly want to be?"
"I…" John sighed and looked out the window, "I'd like to be in Gryffandor."
"And why do you not believe that to be possible?" Sherlock had set his feet down and was leaning forward to examine John as he spoke.
"I'm no hero. I can hardly protect myself."
Sherlock furrowed his brow as they crested a hill and were greeted by beautiful countryside outside of the window. He smiled a little. "I can help with that. I'm going to teach you a basic protective spell. Get your wand." he pulled his own wand out.
It was a jet black and gnarled wand of medium length. On it's own it would be sinister but in Sherlock's thin hand it somehow looked graceful. John dug through his bag and pulled out a box. He opened it and pulled out his own wand. It was long and thin. It looked like the paragon of grace and elegance with a smooth auburn finish. Sherlock giggled and it made John frown.
"What?" he held his wand close.
Sherlock shook his head. "It's just…usually when you see someone's wand it makes sense. But that looks nothing like you."
John blushed. "So?"
"So it means you're going to have to grow into it."
John rolled his eyes. "Are you going to teach me the spell or am I going to have to give you a black eye?"
"Okay, okay, soldier. It's a simple spell just a smooth flick and you say protego." As Sherlock did so a glassy shield shot out of his wand and spread out so it stretched from his head to his foot. |
20b10a805a264fd98c8bb7379a7e5536 | ['3640bb744e30424f91b75f53cd724eae'] | And he keeps telling himself Louis deserved what he did to him but he just could not shake the feeling that it was wrong. It is not exactly Louis’ fault he was born into wealth. But it was his fault he was a complete arse.
“That is understandable. It is not really his fault he grew up in that atmosphere,” Zayn nodded mostly to himself, “I am surprised though that Niall did not follow you out. The way you described him it sounded like you became quick friends.”
“Yeah, he is a nice guy, easy to talk to. And speaking of how nice he is, Mum said that he sent a letter inviting us to some ball at Payne’s. She was not expecting that after the incident the other day.”
Zayn’s face lit up, “Oh your family is attending that also? Mum and the girls were so happy when they read the invitation. I am just glad I will no longer have to sit alone in the corner wishing everybody around me would stop being so uptight.”
“Now you will just have to listen to me complain about how I hate being in the presence of all of those people and how much I cannot stand a certain Louis Tomlinson,” Harry laughs.
*
Harry had greeted too many people upon entering Payne’s house. He still had not seen Liam himself, but Niall had walked over almost immediately and greeted him with an unconventional hug while Louis stood back looking on with displeasure. All the greeting he earned from both Eleanor and Louis was a curt nod before they walked off whispering about something.
All Harry wanted to do was find Zayn and sulk in the corner. He did find Zayn, he was leaning against the main staircase looking on at everyone with a bored expression on his face _Tonight is going to be long,_ Harry thought to himself. He took his place standing next to Zayn. If anybody wanted to have a conversation with them then they would have to come to them, they were not moving.
The boys must have been standing in the same spot for half an hour before they interacted with someone. And that someone just happened to be Liam Payne. “Hello Harry, who is your friend?” Liam accompanied the question with a quick look at Zayn.
“Liam this is Zayn Malik. Zayn this is Liam Payne.”
Zayn made a sound of recognition, “What a lovely place you have here Liam. And it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Liam looked a tad uncomfortable, like he did not deserve the attention Zayn was paying him, “It is also a pleasure to meet you. Now enough of the formalities, would you like a tour Zayn?”
The shock on Zayn’s face was only visible for a split second before he schooled his features into a tiny smile. He replied with an _I would love that_ as the two of them walked off leaving Harry to fend for himself. Well it wasn’t all bad, he could just stand there and people watch. There were people dancing on the makeshift dance floor in front of him, people laughing and talking and momentarily forgetting about their troubles. A waiter scurried past him carrying a tray of empty glasses, probably on his way back to the kitchen to grab full ones. He could hear the faint tinkling of piano keys mixed with the soft voice of a girl singing coming from another room.
All of this people watching had Harry a little bit distracted and the sound of someone clearing their throat beside him had him jumping just a tad. Snapping back to reality he looked over to see Louis standing there with an expectant look on his face. “Hello Tomlinson, can I help you with something?”
“Actually I have a question for you,” the sour look on his face did not fade, “do you know where Liam is?”
_At least he is being civil,_ Harry thought. “I do, he took Zayn on a tour a few minutes ago. I do not know when they will be back.”
Louis gave one of his signature nods, “Thank you, Styles.” The silence that lingered between them was to be expected but it was not awkward or uncomfortable like Harry was expecting, it was kind of just there. Things got a little tenser when Louis spoke, “Harry I would just like to apologize for my actions the other day. It was uncalled for and I am sorry.”
Unlike Zayn Harry is not very good at hiding his emotions; the shock was quite clear on his face, “I accept your apology. I would also like to apologize. What I said to you was uncalled for. I guess I just got caught up in my emotions.”
“It is okay,” Louis smiled, “and it looks like someone else got a little caught up in their emotions as well.”
Harry turned to face whoever Louis was looking at and was surprised to see Liam and Zayn walking towards them. Zayn’s face was a blank slate as usual but Liam’s gave something away. There was light pink blush crawling up his neck and settling into the apples of his cheeks. Something had been said or done on that tour and Harry planned on getting all the details out of Zayn no matter what it took. | ecf88553c0b64ab7bd4dbcd484867e2b | ['3640bb744e30424f91b75f53cd724eae'] |
We're Exactly Where W're Supposed to Be
**Author's Note:**
> (Title from Ho Ho Hopefully by The Maine) This has been a long time coming. It’s Christmas, it’s fluff, and there are daddy! feels. Umm…a couple things 1) I suck at writing endings, this just may be a 4 on the suck scale 2) I’m sorry if this is horrible but this needed to get out of my head
Family and friends packed into the living room. The smell of peppermint and vanilla hung heavy in the air. The sound of wood cracking and popping in the fireplace created the soundtrack to the night. And the twinkling of fairy lights and tea candles created a soft glow over the room. It was the perfect setting for their holiday party.
Louis’ sisters sat in the corner playing with Emma while he and Harry talked to Anne on the other side of the room. They were talking about vacation plans and how they’re taking Louis’ sisters to Disney World the next week. (It was a Christmas present Jay adamantly tried to get the boys not to give. She was convinced the girls didn't need such an extravagant present.) In the middle of talking about the hotel, Daisy or maybe it was Phoebe, let out a little squeal. “Emma! Where do you think you’re going?”
Harry and Louis looked over just in time to see Lottie scooping Emma up into her arms. Emma was having none of it though. Her chubby little legs kicked at the air while she threw her arms around. Her face contorted into a deep frown, cheeks turned red and angry tears threatening to spill over. “DA!” she whimpered out, “want Da.”
“Oh, you want your Daddy huh?” Lottie cooed to the wiggling baby in her arms.
Emma looked back at her aunt with tear stained cheeks and nodded her head with a pout.
“Oh you look just like your father when you do that,” Lottie sighed as she put the wiggling baby back on the floor. She got an excited “Da!” in reply.
When Emma was back on the floor she looked back up at her aunts before she got a determined look on her face. She had maneuvered herself into crawling position, but when she noticed she didn't have anyone’s attention anymore she made sure she held it again. With another shout of something that sounded something like “dada” most of the room was looking at her again.
Harry and Louis were looking on expectantly, Emma always throwing them for a loop with her actions and it seemed like right now she was going to again. They watched as she crawled over to the coffee table. They watched as she stared up at it with her huge cornflower blue eyes. And they also watched as she grabbed the edge and attempted to pull herself up. Harry was just about to rush over to her, make sure she didn't hurt herself, when Anne grabbed his shoulder and shook her head.
“No, it’s okay,” she said as she pointed to little Emma standing somewhat steadily on her in turned feet, “Look, she’s okay.”
“Oh,” he breathed out. Emma had now let go of the table and Harry was nervous; his body tensing without him realizing. He was brought back down to earth by the little squeeze Louis gave his hand.
Emma was just standing next to the table with that concentrated baby look on her face. She had placed her arms out to her sides and lifted a tentative foot into the air before placing it back down in the same spot. The fact she didn't move seemed to confuse her and she looked down at her feet with an agitated glint in her eyes.
The realization of what was happening hit Harry and Louis within seconds so when they both turned to look at each other at the same time it was no surprise. They were brought out of their silent conversation by a shout of “Daddy! Da!”
They both seemed to have the same idea, crouching down and beckoning her forward. They were making grabby hands at her and calling out encouraging words to get her attention.
There were a lot of you can do it and come on sweetheart. Emma was looking on at them a little confused, but she was also extremely happy because her fathers were now closer to her height. That didn't happen too often.
In her excitement she began to clap her hands and stop her feet. When she realized that she was moving her feet and not going anywhere the clapping stopped. She wanted to get to her dads.
Lottie crouched down next to her, “Go on now Emma. You can do it. Go get your daddies.”
Emma looked at her aunt before looking back at Harry and Louis who looked about ready to burst from pent up emotions. And with a little shake of her head and hands she lifted a foot for a second time. This time though she managed to place it down an inch or two in front of its previous position.
The little squeals and sounds of excitement caused Emma to teeter off balance for a second, and the room to become deathly silent. She didn’t fall though; she brought her other foot forward to keep herself from falling backwards. The blue eyed girl didn’t stop moving, she kept placing one foot in front of the other on somewhat shaky legs.
Emma was giggling as she toddled over to her parents who were, trying and failing, to keep the tears at bay. She had this giant grin stretched across her face that cratered a tiny dimple in her cheek. Harry had a matching smile on his face, dimple in the same spot as Emma’s, and silent, over-joyed, dad tears slowly slipping down his cheeks. Louis’ hand was tightly griping his husband’s and he was letting out little choked laughs as the tears found their way down his cheeks.
They were over-joyed so when little Emma toddled into their arms they enveloped her in a hug and hissed her all over her chubby cheeks. The entire room had erupted into shouts of excitement and applause for the girl, but the tiny family was in their own little world.
Harry and Louis, their child, had taken her first steps on Christmas. It was unexpected and wonderful and something they would never forget. And with the fire crackling and the fairy lights twinkling in the background the trio continued on with their night.
**Author's Note:**
> Okay I would just like to say sorry if any part of her taking her first steps were blurry, the last baby I saw take their first steps was my brother and that was a little over 11 years ago….so yeah. I hope you liked it.))) |
8ea68b77f8f841fabdc796fdd385ed4c | ['364681fc9eaf43519cd0ece48402db47'] |
1. The Interview
**Author's Note:**
> MC will be the placeholder name for the Main Character of Mystic Messenger. Please feel free to imagine MC however you wish while reading!
>
> I may add relationships or romance at some point but romance will not be the focus, it will be more of a fun, slice of life type AU. I hope you enjoy reading this alternate take on the Mystic Messenger characters!
>
> Again, thank you for reading RFA Cafe, I hope you enjoy it!
Fiddling on her phone as usual, MC did not have much to do during the day since graduating from college. She spent most of her time playing otome games, waiting for someone, anyone, to call her back about her job applications. She had just about applied to every job in Korea in the hopes that someone would hire her.
"What's the point?" She begged the 2D boys on the other side of her phone screen, "Why did I even bother going to college if I can't get a job at all?"
She sighed and set her phone down, the background music of her game softly fading as she walked towards the restroom. She had just about sat down when she heard the sound on her phone transition to that of her ringtone as it grew louder.
"Hold on!" She shouted, knowing the caller could not hear. She stood up from the toilet seat she had barely sat on and lept forward, tripping over her pants, which were still around her ankles.
"Wait!" She shouted again, dragging her bruised self from off the floor. She tripped over her pants again, flung them off in anger with a swift kick, and dashed to the living room. She picked up her phone and, just as she was about to swipe to answer it, the call timed out.
"No!" MC yelled, imagining the possibility of a job slipping away from her as she pressed "call back." She put the phone to her ear only to hear a busy tone in response and threw her phone onto the couch in anger. She watched helplessly as her phone bounced from the couch to the floor and a fresh crack spidered across her screen.
"Damn it..." she muttered, defeated, and fell to the floor. She felt a tinge of pain in her knees from when she had fallen earlier and knew they would soon bruise.
She saw her screen light up out of the corner of her eye and crawled across the floor to her phone to see she had received a voicemail message. With a glint of hope in her eyes, she pressed the notification and the message played.
"Good afternoon, miss," A polite voice greeted, "If you were still interested in a position at our cafe, please call us back at this number to schedule an in-person interview. We hope to hear from you soon."
MC's eye lit up as she heard the message and she squealed in delight. She pressed the "call back" button once more and, this time, was greeted by a voice on the other line.
"RFA Cafe, this is the assistant manager, Jaehee, speaking. How may I assist you?" A woman's voice asked, the same voice that had left the message.
MC grinned in excitement, "THE RFA Cafe!" She thought, excited by the idea of working at such a prestigious shop. MC had never been able to go to the shop herself as the prices were a bit steep, but it was due to a majority of the proceeds from the purchases being donated to charity. "Maybe I'll get to try their coffee!" She thought, before opening her mouth to respond.
"Hello!" MC replied cheerfully to the woman on the phone, "My name is MC, I just received a call about scheduling an interview..."
"Ah yes," The voice on the other line said with what seemed like a tone of relief, "Thank you for calling us back. When would be the earliest you could come in for an interview?"
"Would I be able to come in today?" MC asked eagerly.
"Hmm, our manager will not be in the cafe until tomorrow morning and wished to be present for all interviews..." she paused, "Is that all right?"
"Yes, that would be perfectly fine!" MC replied.
"Great, we will see you tomorrow at 9am at the cafe then, have a wonderful rest of your day!" The woman on the other line hung up without waiting for a reply, though MC was too preoccupied with her own excitement to notice.
MC set an alarm for her interview and put her phone down, still smiling. She laid on the rug and mused over what she would wear to her interview, eventually dozing off right there on the floor, her pants still lying in a clump in the restroom where she had left them.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
MC awoke the next morning, her limbs stiff from having slept on the floor. She reached over for her phone to check the time but her screen did not respond.
"No!" She exclaimed, realizing she had fallen asleep without having plugged her phone into the charger, "What time is it?" She thought, darting up from the ground, her stiff limbs making her movements clumsy and awkward. She scrambled to the kitchen and looked at the microwave, which told her that the time was 8:30.
"Are you kidding!?" She yelled, hitting herself in the forehead. | 3e66786bde8942b995a4ec33df9ae25d | ['364681fc9eaf43519cd0ece48402db47'] | "Thank you for coming in today, miss, however I feel that you would not be a good fit for this position." Jumin said.
"Wait," Jaehee started, "You aren't even going to interview her?"
Jumin opened his mouth to reply when he and Jaehee heard a thump behind them and turned to see that MC was lying on the floor unconscious.
"Oh no," Jaehee said, rushing to the girl, "She must be sick."
Jumin sighed, "I will call my driver. Please escort the young lady home," he said as he punched some numbers into his phone. He lifted the phone to his ear and walked towards the unconscious MC. He crouched down and reached for her purse, rifling through it.
"Sir-" Jaehee started, but stopped as she saw that he had pulled out her wallet and was reading her ID card, relaying the address listed to his driver on the phone. Jumin tapped his screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Miss Kang, please let me review the applicants next time or I will find another assistant manager."
"Sir, please, give her another chance," Jaehee pleaded, "She is ill and still trekked through the freezing cold for this interview. She seems very determined and headstrong... That alone shows me she would be a good candidate for the position."
"Very well," Jumin sighed, "Have her return on Monday. We will have her shadow with Luciel for a day to see how she fares. If she passes the test, we will put her on an 10-day trial to determine if she is fit to become an official employee," He spoke, very straightforward, "Please schedule an evaluation for the 11th day," He paused, hearing a honk from outside, "Driver Kim is out front. Take Miss MC home and return to work. I expect you back here by 10:30."
Jaehee sighed with both relief and annoyance, "Yes, Mr. Han."
2. The Fever
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> After coming down with a fever during her interview, MC ventures out to pick up medication and runs into a sticky situation when she is confronted by an unknown boy at the convenience store.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you to everyone who has read my first chapter of this story! I hope to update regularly. I am a full time graduate student so I will try my hardest to get updates out when I am not working on school work.
>
> Thank you again to all of you who have read my first chapter (and the lovely person who bookmarked it!) and I hope you enjoy this one as well.
>
> Things are starting to pick up for MC and I can't wait to show you all the antics she gets into as she starts meeting the other members of the RFA on her first day at the Cafe!
>
> Hope you all have a wonderful day and thank you for reading!
MC awoke to see a concerned-looking Jaehee peering at her from above. MC rubbed her eyes and looked around to see that she had been returned to own home and was lying on the couch. Her entire body felt warm and she reached up to touch her heard to find that there was a cool cloth draped across it.
"Jaehee..." She said sleepily, attempting to sit up. Jaehee stopped her.
"You seem to have a fever, it would be best if you laid down a bit longer." Jaehee smiled. "I have to return to the cafe so please spend the rest of the day sleeping. I will see you bright and early on Monday at the Cafe."
"Thank you, Miss Kang."
"No need for the formality, you may call me Jaehee." She smiled again and walked to the door, "Feel better!" She added and exited the apartment.
MC looked down at her feet to see that she was still wearing her shoes. MC kicked them off and turned onto her side. She yawned once and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she had fallen back asleep. She awoke a few hours later and looked at her phone, which had a notification on the screen informing her of 5% battery life remaining. She dismissed the notification and checked the time. It was a little past 5 pm.
MC set her phone down on the coffee table and slowly sat up. Her head throbbed as she changed positions and she shut her eyes tightly from the pain. She sat like that for a moment before attempting to stand. With weak and wobbly legs, she made her way to the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets, searching for medication. She found a bottle of headache medicine and opened it to find that there was only half of a dose left.
"That's not really going to help." She thought, eyeing the single pill in her hand.
She sighed and emptied the bottle into her hand. She made her way to the kitchen sink. She leaned over the basin and turned on the faucet. MC drank directly from the sink, keeping some water in her mouth. She inserted the pill without spilling and swallowed the pill with the water in her mouth, which had now grown a bit warm. She raised her head back up but the motion had agitated her headache and she squinted in pain again.
"I really need to get more," She thought, looking at the empty bottle in her other hand, "This won't do anything." |
75bfdfc2ce8346c0a19e6d9923e1e686 | ['366ab90990c8480c8cfdf331ec970fb9'] | "i wasn't joking. i have needs too. it's not weird unless you make it that way." richie insisted, laying next to stan calmly. "we don't have to, it's just a suggestion."
"but my dysphoria..." stan muttered.
"do you trust me?" richie questioned, moving closer to the darkened silhouette of his friend.
"yes." stan answered without hesitation.
richie's hand wandered to stan's face, tracing his features until his fingers grazed pink lips. he closed the gap between them, crashing their mouths together. it was then that it occured to stan that this really was happening. richie kissed stan deeply, moving his hands to the other boy's hips. he pulled stan close to him, eliminating any space between them. he could practically feel stan's heart beating through his chest to richie's. richie kissed along stan's jaw until he found his ear.
"you're so handsome, you know that? sculpted like a greek god i swear." richie complimented, making stan shiver. the talkative boy found stan's lips again and kissed them lustfully, slipping his tongue into stanley's as the boy gasped for air. his fingers traveled to the hem of stan's shirt and began to push up the fabric. stan helped tug it off completely then sensually undressed his friend.
"i've always dreamt of you pinning me against the wall and fucking me, you know. i need a man like you to do that to me. we'll save that for later, though." stan felt his boxers get wetter in response to the words. richie kissed along stan's neck as his hands explored the boy. his fingers brushed along stan's nipples, then to his sternum, then tiptoed to a trail of hair leading to stan's pajama bottoms.
"fuck, when did you get a happy trail? those drive me wild." he commented, his fingers tracing the hairs. stan's stomach inflated and deflated rapidly as richie's hands inched dangerously close to his crotch. richie finally gave him some relief by rubbing stan through his pants. stan moaned deeply, sounding like a pornstar. richie's dick twitched in response, and he found himself desperately ripping off stanley's pj bottoms. he laid down stanley as he kissed down his chest, to his boxer briefs. his hot breath against stan's groin made stan feel dizzy.
"can i suck your cock, sir? please, sir, let me blow you." richie begged, mostly for effect. it paid off, apparently, because stan was shifting his hips and groaning whiningly, as if he were begging for richie's mouth. richie obliged and pulled the underwear off of his ass. he sunk his nose into the wiry, curly hair and wrapped his mouth around stan's slightly enlarged clit, recieving a moan of relief from the boy. he treated the nub as if it were a penis, sucking and licking it. stan thrusted to meet richie's rhythm when he suddenly interrupted the pattern. he quickly ran his tongue across stan's slit, catching him off guard and making him moan gutturally.
"can i finger you?" richie asked, lust and passion dripping from his voice.
"what if i don't like it?" stan wondered, and tried to close his legs to hide himself, but richie was in the way.
"if you don't like it, tell me to stop and i will, my prince." stan agreed to the proposition, and richie began teasing stan's clit and lips with his finger, before gently pushing it into stan.
"oh," stan remarked aloud. he liked that. richie smirked and thrusted his finger, and curling it slightly. he found a different texture, then stan was moaning desperately, sounding absolutely wrecked. richie added another finger and repeated the actions.
"you like that, baby boy?" richie asked, and stan replied with verbal affirmations as he fucked himself on richie's digits. precome leaked from his head, turned on greatly from the scene.
"you wanna come, baby?" richie purred darkly, slowing his pace to make stan beg like a good boy. then, he rammed his fingers in and out, and soon stan was groaning obscenely as he came around richie's fingers.
"you did so good my prince," richie praised and paused to suck the cum off of his fingers. "i wanna do this more often. you're too goddamn good not to. your dick is a blessing."
"thank you, rich." stan whispered sincerely, breathing harshly and coming down from the high.
"no problem." richie climbed next to stan, wrapping his arms around his best friend.
"do you want me to return the favor?" stan questioned nervously, blushing hot pink.
"next time, my handsome prince. next time." richie murmured as he buried his face into the crook of stan's next.
"there's gonna be a next time?" stan's heart skipped a beat.
"if you want. i know i want to." richie replied calmly, causing stan's skin to burn hot. a long moment of silence pursued. stan's heart hammered hard against his chest.
"richie?" stan called. "i think i might be in love with you."
"ditto. now will you cuddle me and go to sleep?" stan felt his body relax and soon fell asleep with richie holding him and the world feeling right for once. | 8f538afb635b45fabcb3e958cc4ed536 | ['366ab90990c8480c8cfdf331ec970fb9'] |
the binding of isaac
**Author's Note:**
> the title of this fic comes from a song by schmekel (a jewish queercore band) called "the binding of isaac." it's a bop and i recommend listening to it!
when stan was young, he had curly pigtails and wore pink dresses. he hated the ribbons, and often tore them out. one day when he was making a paper butterfly, he used the safety scissors to cut his long locks off. his parents were furious at first, but what had been was irreversible, so they hadn't been too angry. he was just a kid afterall.
when he started kindergarten, he met a boy named eddie. eddie was weird, and carried a backpack almost as big as him, packed with a change of clothes for emergencies and plenty of snacks, along with his school supplies. one day, another obnoxious kid named richie spilled juice all over stan. eddie to the rescue! he lended stan a spare polo and denim shorts. it was the first time he felt really comfortable.
when his parents came to pick him up, they were surprised to see their "daughter" looking like a little boy.
"sarah! what happened to your dress?" his mother cried.
"richie ruined it! i didn't like it anyway," stan retorted. his parents exchanged a look, and had a long talk later. they decided to bring the boy to a therapist.
the therapist asked about what stan liked, who his friends were, and what he wanted to be when he grew up. to which he responded, "a man!" shortly after, stanley was diagnosed with anxiety and gender dysphoria. his parents were understanding as they could be, they even helped him choose a new name. they saved up and scheduled a court date to change his name legally over the summer, so he could attend to school with his real name. they informed the teachers of his situation, and hinted that they would sue if they misgendered their son.
he faced a fair amount of bullying, but he didn't care because he felt good and he had his friends. as he got older, he heard less shit and he almost always passed. then puberty came around. it was awful, he started getting hormonal and cried like a baby. luckily, his doctor recognized his symptoms, and hprescribed him hormone blockers before breasts started developing. his father gifted him a new yarmulke after the appointment, which stan quickly replaced his old one with.
he was on blockers for about 4 years before he could start testosterone, and he had to admit he was jealous of his friends wiry whiskers and cracking voices. he called himself a late bloomer to those he wasn't out yet too.
his first injection made him the happiest kid on earth, he was practically beaming the whole day. he was pretty content with his body now, besides the severe bottom dysphoria, but he could hardly wait to see himself become the man his younger self yearned to be.
he had been on t a couple of months when he noticed changes. his voice hummed deeply, his leg hair darkened, and a trail of fuzz had sprouted on his stomach. he found himself more irritable and hungrier, like most boys his age.
he also experienced frequent wet dreams. he'd dream about both boys and girls praising his body and making him feel like a real man, armored with a pink, shiny, cut cock; but when he opened his eyes, there was no tent in his comforter. the disappointment spiraled into dysphoria, which ruined the whole experience. stan wanted to enjoy the dreams, he wanted to touch himself but the thought of it made him shudder. he accepted the fact he was likely to never relieve his sexual tensions until he was post-op.
━━━━━
it happened when richie was sleeping over. stan often invited richie over for the weekend, and the two boys would attend synagogue services with stan's parents. it was safe to assume that if richie wasn't at bill's, he was with stan. during one of these sleepovers, stan dreamt of another erotic fantasy.
richie was awakened by stan's soft, but deep moans as he rotated his hips. richie pretended to be disgusted, but the heat in his skin was undeniable. he threw a pillow from the pallet he had arranged in stan's direction. the sleeping boy was not disturbed at all and the light gasps didn't slow. richie snapped out of the daze he had fallen into and walked to stan's side, shaking the boy awake.
"you horny dog," richie whispered huskly, chuckling slightly.
"oh my god richie, i'm so sorry. you probably think i'm a sick freak!" stan replied, hushedly.
"dude. it's no big deal. happens to everyone. though jacking off every once in a while usually makes 'em stop." stan blushed profusely and playfully shoved his friend. after they had stopped giggling, he found himself absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "you... you do get off, right?"
"what! yeah, of course i do... all of the time..." stan rambled nervously.
"you can just say no, stan," richie smirked. "can i ask why not? are you like asexual?"
"i don't think so... i like the idea of sex, and i get aroused..." stan stalled. "i just... can't do it. it makes me feel too dysphoric."
the boys sat in silence for a short while, stan staring at his lap though it was pitch black in the room, and richie thinking hard about how to respond. stan had started to regret confiding in richie, even though the kid was his best friend. he worried he had crossed a line of some sort or made richie feel—
"i... i can help, if you want." richie stammered, and if stan could see him he would blushing tomato red.
"that's not funny." stan scolded and angrily threw himself back onto the mattress. |
3a9d7e608fc643b5a790104a1d82cd5d | ['369afeae35ea4b868c4b3ef1a41582ec'] | I opened my eyes to see that I was inside a bed, I took off the blanket to stand up and see that I was in a large shirt. Someone must have changed me and I hope it was a girl because if it was not then I am sorry for any man that may marry me. I looked around to see old looking furniture and it was odd to see this kind of thing now but yet it feels like I know it. I wanted to know where my old clothes was but yet I couldn’t find it. Did they throw it away? Did I even come with my clothes on? She put her hands to her face in embarrassment if that was true. She opened the door and began to walk not knowing where she was. She hear voices could those be the boy who saw her. she began to walk more and more to the noise as she opened the door slowly and saw him drinking some tea behind his desk that seem bigger then him. She closed the door and he put his tea down. As she went back to stare at him she could see that he had the same color hair as her and she was surprised. She made sure that her right eye was covered and saw that most of her blocked it, most people would stare at her cause of her eyes.
“I see that our guest, has awakened” he says as he looked at her and she looked down. She had to make sure that he didn’t think that she was odd. But yet his blue eyes that remind her of her own made it seem like she can trust him but the eye patch in his right eye made it seem like she shouldn’t. He told her to sit down and as she does she see a Butler come into the room. He has black hair with red eyes and I thought it glowed for a second but closed my eyes and saw that it wasn’t any more. He gave me tea as I smelled it and open my mouth.
“Earl Grey, my lord” he said and I closed my mouth. I drank a bit and it was wonderful. He turned around and left the room, I couldn’t stop staring at him and kept drinking my tea.
“I want to know how you got inside the Phanthomhive estate” I looked at him confused. I realized that he has the same last name as me. Could he be part of my family?
“Can I ask you a question first? If I may” she asked.
“What may that be?”
“are you related to me, I have never met you before in my family if it is true but yet it could be that my family isn’t related to me either since they didn’t have the same last name as you do” he looked at her since she began to talk nonsense and wouldn’t let him reply.
“Can I ask for you name” he asked me and I nodded yes.
“My name is Ava Aiden Phanthomhive” I have another last name but I can’t seem to remember it at the moment since I was told that I shouldn’t” I look to the side to make sure he doesn’t notice my eye since it seem that he trying to see.
“You a Phanthomhive! How can that be I am the only one left in this world?” he seem confused but yet he had a strange laughter coming out of him still he turned to anger.
“ would you believe me if I came from another time, I don’t believe this is where I live cause I know that there was a field with signs and this odd hole in the ground” I told him and he looked at me strange.
“Sebastian” he called out. He comes out and locks the door.
“Check that girl and see who she really is, she may be lying to me” he nods as he circles around me. I smile as he tries to touch my hair and I touch his hand. He moves so his young master can’t see him and looks at my right eye. I closed it and he just smiled.
“My young lady, why can’t I see your right eye?”
“You will call me a monster and throw me away like they did” I told him and he looked at me.
“I will not my lady” I opened my eye and he looked at me amazed. He smiled as he saw the mark and tried to hide a laughter as he looked at his young master.
“Is something wrong” I asked. He cleans the little blood I have on my right eye and I smiles as he spoke to his young master about what he learned.
“Who are your parents” he asked me and I looked down.
“I don’t know who they are, my aunt and uncle told me that they left me with them and I realized a few hours ago that they might not be my aunt and uncle”
“How did you get here” Ciel asked me.
“I am not sure, I remember falling from this hole, and I was trying to get my uncle hand before I fell but they were glad to see me fall. I saw this strange light surround me and I landed here” she moved her arms around cause they still hurt from that landing. Ciel just looked at my hair because it was just like him. My face was just like his in some ways and when I show him my eyes he looked at me strange to have one blue and the other red with the mark he had in his own.
“You have demon eyes”
“I do “
“You have to leave this estate” | 9252e133415c4d9498b4c23919bbcff5 | ['369afeae35ea4b868c4b3ef1a41582ec'] | As the years seem to past by and my last year of this horrible school came to a close, I can’t help but wonder why my time as seem to be busy. I don’t play on the game often due to school and my mother keeping an eye on me. When I do have time I tend to team up with Asa and he helps me around in the game. He have gotten really close to each other and that odd cause my mother seem to tell me not to trust anyone on the internet but yet I can’t help with him. I found out later on that he acquired the new element he gotten it was Fire. Asa is now a Dark fire warrior which is good for him because he needed it to get higher in the game. I am still a priestess that has healing but yet I can still fight with my sword that I carry around. I am practicing to use spells as I have acquired Dark element as well. Asa told me later on that as a priestess you can learn all the elements which you find useful to keep you protected. They are hunted down a lot to acquire their skills since they themselves cannot get it on their own. It does take a while to learn them all but yet it can make you very strong. Which is a reason why I pretend to be a warrior like him and learn to use the sword and not use magic.
“Are you doing homework in there?” she knocked on my door as I answered.
“I am mom” she began to walk away as I put my headphones back on.
Chat mode Appear
“Hey anzu, how it going?”
“It’s going fine, is that all today?”
“Yeah for today sure, but can I ask something?”
“Of course”
“Do you have a phone?”
“I do not since my mother works at the same school she won’t allow me. Do you have one?”
“Yeah my father made me carry one but sucks that you mother is so strict”
“I know but that how is apparently. Oh shoot later I think her going to open my door soon. Thank you for teaching me”
Chat mode Disappear
I made my avatar hug him as he waves bye and I log off and sit on the chair and sigh.
“Haru here to keep you some company since I’ll be out for a bit” she said as the door open and he went inside and she left to the side. He went inside as I smile and sat on the bed.
“Hi Rika, nice to see you again” he said smiling.
“Yeah it been a while, we start the next grade level in a couple months soon”
“Yeah we do, are you going to same one as me”
“I probably are but I hope those girls are not” I looked down as he smiled at me.
“Don’t worry, you will get through it”
“I will if we keep our distance like before “he was going to move to me as he didn’t and stayed still.
“I’m sorry that I’m popular and you are not but yet I don’t care about those status I want us to be friends like we were before. I had so much fun” he kept talking to me as I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen to him because I know that people always lie to me.
“Please let me be how I am, I want to be alone and not let anyone hurt me okay” I went out my room as I could feel him following me. I got water as I drank I could see his face and he was so sad. I didn’t want to see him like this but if I didn’t do this then he would get hurt as well. I put my glass away as I moved to the living room and began to run up the stairs and trick him by pretending to go to my sister room but close the door and run downstairs to lock my room. He was banging to let him in but I can’t. I don’t want too. I just want to be alone. My house is a two story house. My room is in the first floor but in the back, it a big bigger then I would expect at my age but yet I can easy escape from the window if I wanted since there a back gate to lead to the street. My mother room is upstairs as well as my two siblings. My room a bit soundproof so if I break something they won’t come into my room to see what is wrong. It is also good since I don’t have to hear what goes outside most of the time unless I open my window. Helps me sleep sometimes. I unlock the door and lay on my bed as I fall asleep. It seem that haru is probably sitting in the living room and I’ll probably get called by my mom when she gets home but right now sleep is consuming me so much I just want to nap forever.
Several months later, |
85c607e3a44242deb3b925dbf1ff9c2d | ['36c73a7f463a4b1a98192cbd17374bb5'] | 'I look....huh.' My father finally looked in the mirror and was shocked by the sight. He had a midnight blue T-shirt on and ripped jeans. The blue beanie was balanced stylishly on the back of his head and his hair had been gelled out of his face.
I squealed with excitement. 'My turn! My turn! I wanna look like father!' Daddy seemed shocked but understood as soon as he realised just how good father looked.
In the end, I wore the same as my father excluding the beanie and the makeup (though I still had eyeliner and a bit of glitter on).
My dad, as usual, looked - well - fabulous! His glitter trainers matched his waistcoat that had a black shirt underneath and even when they got me daddy refused to wear trousers (pants) to a single party.
'Let the party begin' My father shouted, clicking his fingers. The loft seemed to grow in size and the music blared loudly. I wasn't surprised to see that downworlders were already flooding in...but the worst was yet to come.
It wasn't long before daddy was drunk - really drunk - and father was attempting to pry him from the room. Daddy was laughing uncontrollably at father's angry face as he glanced at me and back to daddy. Then he noticed, took him long enough, that daddy wasn't the only one in the family who was drunk. I was too.
'MAXWELL!' I heard a scream. I had never heard father this angry. I was scared. 'EVERYONE OUT!' He screamed, and the downworlders ran from the threatening Nephilim. 'MAGNUS!' Was his next command and my daddy stumbled towards my father, unaware of his anger. 'You are having no contact from me OR MAX for a month!' He screamed and the realisation in my daddy seemed to kick in and I saw the stupid side of him trying to argue back but he backed down and trudged back to the bedroom. I was next.
9. A Very Malec Date
The street was desolate apart from the two men, holding hands, walking down the streets of Brooklyn. It was only nine in the evening and they were both walking in a direction unknown to both of them.
Magnus had booked a reservation at a fancy restaurant but it seemed that both of them really weren't that bothered about eating. They seemed to be heading in the vague direction of the park and Magnus had an idea.
Magnus clicked his fingers, hoping that his imagination and magic could work in unison for this. It was a struggle to work his magic without Alec noticing and it was even harder to keep his eyes off Alec when he was wearing his suit. It was still black but it fit him well and showed off the body of the perfect shadowhunter.
Alec blushed when he noticed Magnus' eyes roaming his body. 'Magnus!' He teased, hitting his arm gently. Magnus just laughed and continued to move his fingers behind his back- working his magic.
Another few minutes passed and Magnus was done and they were nearing the empty park. It was cold outside so no human would want to be outside in the January weather. But, Alec being shadowhunter and Magnus being a warlock meant they both had easy methods of staying warm in even the lowest of temperatures.
That didn't mean that they didn't feel the chill but the pain that it caused was much lessened and how no effect on the extravagant evening Magnus had planned.
When the entered, the park lit up, just as Magnus had planned. Through the trees, fairy lights were strung, all leading to the same place- the gazebo.
The gazebo was the most impressive of all. Fairy lights surrounded the frame light a spider's web; the gazebo was lit up with hues of pinks, purples and blues. It was a sight to behold and Magnus was proud of how much he could accomplish from so far away with some simple magic.
Alec's head turned to Magnus, his mouth open and his eyes wide. 'Magnus...how?' He stammered, rushing towards the gazebo, Magnus in tow.
'It's a secret.' He smiled, knowing Alec knew exactly how he did this. They smiled at each other, their faces as lit up as bright as the fairy light's surrounding them. 'Thank you.' Alec murmured, bringing Magnus into a warm embrace. 'Thank you so much. You spoil me.' He laughed, his eyes watering with unshed tears.
It was true that Alec gave and did not receive much in return to Magnus had made it his job to give Alec as much as he could- including his own heart. 'Only for you, Alexander, only for you.' Alec's heart jumped a beat when he saw what was inside the gazebo.
The inside held a neatly arranged table and chairs, made for two, with a beautiful, steaming meal ready to be eaten. Alec's mouth watered as he approached the food, dragging Magnus with him.
'I can't believe you.' He breathed, sitting in one of the two chairs. Magnus smirked and dug into the food.
'I'm full of surprises.' He smiled and took Alec's hand. 'You deserve more, though, Alec. You deserve the world.' The first tear fell and Alec looked up to Magnus and shook his head, smiling widely.
Alec picked at his food then, avoiding looking at Magnus, knowing that the food would never be eaten if he did. Inevitably, he couldn't hold it in anymore and he leapt out of his chair and into Magnus' arms- their lips connecting in a passionate kiss.
Alec smiled against Magnus' lips, murmuring 'I love you' between breaths. Magnus was no different. They spent the night: eating, kissing and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. It was magical and Alec couldn't hope for better. | 54807d1b2c744d979203bfea6924cc30 | ['36c73a7f463a4b1a98192cbd17374bb5'] | 'Yeah...' Dan trailed off with a sigh, saving and quitting his current page. 'Phil, I have to talk to you.' Dan said solemnly and Phil was surprised at the number of words at all.
'What about?' Phil asked suspiciously, sitting up and looming over Dan unintentionally. Dan retracted subconsciously and Phil, without thought, backed away, pressing his back against the headboard with mild frustration at himself.
'We have some things to sort out.'
'What sort of things?'
'I'm worried about you.'
'What-' he stopped, failing to close his gaping mouth. 'You're worried about *me*?'
'Yes, you.'
'I shouldn't be the one you're worried about.'
'I know you think that but...' Dan paused for a second, taking a deep intake of breath. 'I'm going to say this and you're not going to interrupt because I've said this once before and I don't want to have to stop and start. I'm fine. Yes. I. Am. Fine. Okay? No need to babysit me. I'm not perfect, I have my ups and downs like anyone and my dips may be worse than most people's but that's okay, seeing what I've been through. I'm worried about you. Whilst helping me, you've been destroying yourself, to use someone else's words. Locking the windows, the nightmares- and yes, I know you're having them. I'm sick of being sad so I've said to myself that I won't be. Now, it's time to make you not either. I've had this...this inferiority complex this whole time but I have to stop, I know I do, even if I still believe it. I have to help you like you helped me.'
Phil was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping like a fish as he swam for the words hidden in the waves of his mind. He tried to form words but only his lips moved, opening and closing like a doorway to nothing.
'I don't know what to say-'
'You don't have to.'
'But...what? You don't just...you can't just get over something like what you've been through. Most people need counselling or something!'
'But here I am.'
'Dan, you're hiding something.' They locked eyes, Phil's will already wavering whilst Dan remained strong. 'Please, just tell me.' He urged. 'A week ago, you were whimpering next to me instead of sleeping because you were so scared of getting caught. A week ago, you weren't eating at all. The doctor said you were anorexic! You don't just get over anorexia, Dan! Please, I just want to know the truth.' Phil begged, his eyes wide and open, leaving himself vulnerable to anything.
'I saw something...online.' Dan admitted, his head bowing. Phil, trying to help as best as he could, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'It was a Neko hate website. I didn't even think they had stuff like that. It said some things that...that I don't want to ever see again. I'm going to fix it, Phil. I don't want to hide, I want to do something about this. I don't want anyone else like me to be trapped in cages, it's sickening. So I'm going to help. I can’t be free whilst they are trapped, it’s just not fair.’ Phil was almost proud as he watched Dan pour his heart out, his head slowly lifting until he sat proudly, resolute in his actions.
'You need to be careful, Dan.' He warned, his voice trembling in sudden concern for his friend.
'I know. I will.' Dan nodded along with his words, never letting Phil's eyes stray from his own, ensnaring him with his midnight eyes that shimmered behind the human brown.
'But, I mean, that can't be it? You had an eating disorder. I don't want to pry but I...I want to check that you're really okay.'
'As okay as you are.' Dan admitted truthfully.
'So what now?'
Dan shrugged, shuffling closer to Phil and resting against his side, his head dropping a small inch until it was balancing precariously on his shoulder. 'Try to eat, no matter how much I hate it. Stop locking the windows. Help you out and I mean that, we need to find you something to do. You clearly don't take well to cabin fever.'
'But I like staying inside, in case you haven't noticed, I love the lazy life.' Phil joked, smiling gently, inching down until Dan's head rested fully on his shoulder.
'I know but that doesn't change anything.' Dan smiled back, the slightest glimmer in his eyes. Phil's heart swelled with pride as his best friend- one of the strongest people he'd ever met. 'I'm not forgetting the past but I'm moving past it, no matter how long it takes. The nightmares will still be there but when I'm awake, I'm in control. Although, that doesn't seem to work every day.' Dan sighed, nestling further into Phil's side until they were impossibly close.
'It's gonna be hard but I don't care. I need to try. And, anyway, what's the point in being scared? We're gonna be caught or we won't be, we can't do anything.'
'I guess you're right.' Phil wrapped his trapped arm around Dan's shoulders, leaning his head on top of Dan's wistfully, staring at the blank wall with amazement at this whole conversation.
'I also want to shift.' Dan blurted.
'What?!' Phil jumped in shock, Dan scrambling off his shoulder, although Phil's arm was still wrapped around him.
'I want to shift.'
'Okay...' Phil trailed off, his eyes even wider than before, as he let Dan fall back to him, cuddled together like a couple.
'When?' Phil asked, his fingers running idly over Dan's shoulder, reassuring to the both of them he hoped.
'Not yet, just, I want to try.' Phil nodded absent-mindedly and drew Dan to his chest, wrapping both arms delicately around him. 'I'm so glad you're better. I missed you.' Phil admitted, his voice weak with fatigue- his mind still reeling from a day's worth of emotional rollercoasters. |
dd4970a015c64af3819bea009291beba | ['36c978c7ac4c44779b49aad780b5b561'] | The word 'Lucky' could not begin to adequately describe how Makoto felt. The concept of luck seemed to him at least to be one of mere fleeting gain, usually only affecting trivial things like when a set of lost keys randomly turned up or managing to get to the bookstore just prior to closing and claiming that last copy of a new manga. But really, could such a sustained barrage of good fortune and cumulative daily joy, spanning nearly the entirety of his lifetime so far, be so easily dismissed as simple luck. Would it not be going too far in fact to describe his circumstances as being blessed, because honestly that was how he felt.
Indeed he considered himself truly blessed to be able to call Haruka his own, at first as his closest friend and now as a lover. He was blessed to be able to hold that boy of frankly unearthly beauty tight within his arms, but also to have the pleasure of passing the long halcyon days and dark chilly nights with good natured banter or just contented silence between them. Blessed was how he felt when Haru could integrate himself so naturally into the Tachibana family, confidently helping his mother in the kitchen or at ease discussing art with his father, and the way he calmly interacted with the twins sent a tickle of emotion trough his throat sometimes. He was blessed to have spent his formative years at Haru's side, to have explored their small world and experienced new things together, with the ever present and reassuring comfort of their interlocked hands as a physical sign of their alliance. Haru was his frame of reference, and it was this shared bond that allowed him to feel a level of confidence in himself. A profound knowledge that what ever happened in the future, the course of their lives had been, and would continue to be, deeply influenced by one another. Always.
Makoto had only fairly recently given in to his desire to fully lose himself in the love he felt for Haru. Until they had gotten together as a couple, and even for a short while after that, Makoto had remained with his toes protruding the precipice as he continued to hold his burdensome emotions at bay. He instinctively knew that Haru would never intentionally hurt him, but it was nonetheless a little scary to present ones heart so vulnerably to another, even if that person had indeed always been holding onto it, keeping it safe. He had felt like his love might be too extreme, might be bothersome for Haru to have to cope with, but in the end Haru had been just perfect and had greedily accepted everything he was given, and in return showered Makoto with his gentle acceptance like a soft summer rain. It turned out, as with most things, that they had taken the leap of faith together, falling into the swirling waves of their intimate relationship and somehow discovering new depths within themselves and each other in the process. Makoto loved the very air that Haru breathed, and the concept no longer frightened him, it made him stronger.
But it was still kind of weird how his life had changed so dramatically in some respects, but also seemed to have stayed the same in others. It possibly went with the territory of finally acting upon a long held romantic love for someone who'd been a constant presence throughout his entire life. It didn't feel like a completely separate and alien frontier like it might if they had, for instance, met in high school and started dating from there like most of their peer group were doing. Instead it seemed to be more of an evolution, no less exciting and new, but just deeper. They already had so much shared history, they _knew_ each other, probably more so than a lot of newlywed couples.
That last thought had Makoto blushing like a little girl as he sat halfway up the steps, playing with the fluffy white cat that had somehow also become part of his morning routine. He automatically scanned his surroundings, making sure there was no one around to have witnessed his rather embarrassing swoon, and that's when he noticed Haru standing silently at the top of the stairs, watching him. Luckily he was a little far off to pick up on Makoto's heated cheekbones, and indeed was now too busy trying to act like he'd only just arrived to have noticed any strange behaviour from his boyfriend. Makoto chuckled quietly as he stood, Haru descending towards him and attempting to look casual whilst not quite meeting his eye, he obviously knew he'd been caught but Makoto decided he would let this one go, it was just kind of nice to have Haru ready to leave for once.
"Haru-chan, you're early today" he purred, not unlike the small cat that was now attempting to regain his attention at their feet. Haru looked at him and then off to the side down the slope of the hill, and this time Makoto was close enough to distinguish the slight rosy tint that fell subtly across Haru's cheeks, and a sudden flashback to the previous night's phone call had him biting his lip in remembrance. | a867e78ef10e4a73a2cb9cdb6c9eafe2 | ['36c978c7ac4c44779b49aad780b5b561'] | It was kind of funny, but of the few people around them trusted enough to be let into this, the worst kept secret that was their relationship, everyone seemed to assume and had indirectly implied that Haru was the more dominant of the pair. It probably had something to do with his boyfriend's occasionally infuriating but always genuine displays of single-mindedness, and indeed it was true that once that guy decided on something it took more strength than Makoto actually possessed to dissuade him. As was testament by the amount of times they'd been cautioned at the aquarium or the fact that Haru's picture had actually been circulated to all the pet stores and marine supply establishments in Iwatobi.
Having said that, when it concerned their activities in the bedroom it turned out that in reality Makoto was the one to be most consistently in charge. Haru would of course frequently take the initiative to instigate sex, but it was Makoto who subsequently took the reins and then readily directed proceedings. He'd quickly learnt that Haru particularly enjoyed seeing his strong commanding nature shine through, a side of himself that he generally subdued in everyday life. Haru trusted him completely and it was safe in that knowledge that allowed him to completely let go, there was no need for polite diplomacy within each other's arms.
Of course, it must also be taken into account that notoriously Haru was in possession of an intensely obsessive personality. From swimming, to mackerel, to art - when Haru found something he enjoyed he devoted himself almost religiously to its pursuit. And while at times Makoto could be deeply, _deeply_ grateful for this attribute when applied to lovemaking, when they had first embarked on their physical relationship it hadn't taken him long to arrive at the realisation that if he didn't assume control of their sex life, it may just end up killing him. So, in the equivalent of the gentle but insistent hand that was habitually offered in order to signal when it was time to leave the water, Makoto was naturally delighted to be the one to whom it fell to provide the boundaries for Haru's physical passion as well. It was perhaps to be expected that his obvious gift for full body movement, along with his grace and artistic sensibility combined into a frankly awe inspiring force that often had the ability to steal the very breath from Makoto's lungs. Haru was indeed a man of action rather than words after all.
And that was what Makoto found himself pondering as he lay on his bed still fully clothed, staring up at the faintly uneven ceiling with his arms folded under his head, listening impatiently to the household's ambience slowly winding down. Haru could talk if he needed to, in fact he was probably a lot better at it than he thought he was. He just chose not to most of the time. That sense of quiet composure had been one of the first of an endless supply of admirable qualities that had drawn Makoto to his best friend all those years ago, another misconception being that he was the one that grounded Haru, whilst in actual fact it was the older of the pair who'd always provided a calming anchor against the changing tides.
In some respects it was a shame though, because Haru's voice was undeniably beautiful. It was gentle and low, kind of husky and laced with more subtle inflection than most people picked up on. And the way he said Makoto's name, it was just delicious, the way he enunciated each distinct syllable had a particular rhythm and timbre that was completely unique. Nobody said his name like Haru did, he'd never be able to distinguish another voice calling out for him so instinctively, and absolutely no one else could ever unintentionally give him a shiver of goosebumps just from simply addressing him. Makoto licked his lips as he smiled around the thought of Haru's voice as it raised in pitch when they made love, his usual dry humour and cool expression melting away as he committed his body completely. Makoto's heels dug into the mattress and his toes curled restlessly in his socks as he glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, it was only half past eight but just the thought of hearing Haru's voice had rendered him as petulant as a small child on a long car journey.
He shifted onto his side to face the wall, sweeping his hand under the pillow to retrieve his phone where he'd hidden it out of sight but evidently not out of mind. As it was flipped open with a practised flick of the wrist, Makoto brought it closer to his face so he could better study the slightly blurred photo of himself and his boyfriend that was currently set as his wallpaper, he let out a soft reflexive sigh as his thumb stroked Idly along the corner of the screen. |
3aeb10f79ce447dea52ac9f7fde8889f | ['36cdb375db33408c893316ac8a5c53f3'] |
1. Mix-up
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks to my patient friend (Aquinique) for the review and cheering. A couple of chapter are already in review and I am hoping to post, at least, once a month.
**Chapter 1**
On that night, the world seemed happier than usual. Of course, it was Halloween and most streets were filled with the laughter of Muggles coming in and out of costumed parties. But tonight was even more special, because tonight, they were not the only ones celebrating. From all over the country, Witches and wizards danced and laughed; the sound of their joy resounding into the night as they toasted at the end of the war and their new hero.
But not here, on Privet Drive. Instead, the suburban street was deserted, its occupants warmly sleeping, except for an old man. His long white beard and hair were nearly hiding a purple robe as he lazily strolled towards a gray stripped cat, patiently sitting on the sidewalk.
\- _Professor McGonagall, I had a felling I will see you here,_ he said saluting the cat with a tilt of his head.
Soon, the cat grew, morphing and taking the form of an elderly lady. She was dressed all in green and had small glasses on the tip of her nose.
\- _How did you know? she asked._
\- _My dear, I never saw a cat standing so straight before._
Minerva McGonagall, had lived through two wars and had taught generations of young minds. She had also known Albus Dumbledore for the majority of her life. She wasn’t fooled by his congeniality. He had a plan, one she didn’t think she liked.
\- _Headmaster, you can’t seriously think of bringing that child here? He will be famous in our world._
\- _And that’s exactly why I will do it, Minerva. The Potters’ deaths are leaving young Harry alone in this world, except for the Dursleys._
\- _Albus, I can’t imagine that poor child here, those people are the worst kind of Muggles I have ever seen._
Albus could see the strain that time and worries had dug deep upon her aging face. He also knew she will keep standing tall, ready to protect any child in need. Still, as much as he loathed distressing her, sometimes hard decisions had to be taken. It was for the greater good.
\- _I’m afraid it’s our only option. Who else would take care of Harry and not of the boy’s fame?_ he asked and without waiting for her rebuke, he continued, _Hagrid will soon bring us Harry and I am certain all will be fine. You will see._
The headmaster tapped her hand reassuringly, considering the matter settled despite her frown. No more words were said on the subject and the street sunk back into silence as they waited for the arrival of their faithful keeper and his precious bundle.
Unknown to them, a slight mistake would change the face of the wizarding world forever.
**~*~**
In Cokeworth, in the middle of a tired industrial district, the heavy silence of the night was cut by the low rumbling of a motorcycle. It was almost a monster, an enormous black mass, its front light, an eye piercing through the dark sky. On it sat an imposing man with a bushy beard, against his chest; a young child was nested. The unusual convoy was getting closer, flying down into the alley. Finally, it touched land, stopping in front of an old and slightly wonky house, slightly wonky. But then, everything on this street seemed kind of askew, as if weary of standing.
The rider was a half-giant named Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts. That is to say, he was very much out of his element surrounded whit with brick and mortar, but he had a job to do for Dumbledore and he will not let the man down. He looked at the letter in his over-sized hand, then at the small child still resting, draped across his chest. He already liked the tot and though he would like living at Hogwarts. There, he would have lots of places to run and animals to play with. What to say this was a good place to leave him? What to say he would be cared for? No, he though resolutely, Dumbledore was always right, he knew that.
So, he gave him a scratchy kiss and with a last tearful goodbye, he left the sleeping boy on the doorstep. About to turn around, he remembered his other task and with a careful hand, laid a letter between the fold of the bundle. Then, at last, he mounted the motorbike, hiccupping tears. He had another delivery to make.
On the letter left with the infant were inscribed these words:
_M. Severus Snape_
_The Squeezed House_
_61, Spinner’s End_
_Cokeworth_
__
__
**~*~**
Back on Privet Drive, the two professors caught sight of a flying motorcycle, finally relaxing as they recognizing the impressing form of Hagrid.
\- _Hagrid_ , said Dumbledor, _I was beginning to wonder what kept you. Please, give me Harry._
\- _But Professor, Mister, I let ‘Ary at mister Snape an’ came here to give their letter to the Dursley._
\- _My god!_ exclaimed McGonagall, clutching her wand, _don’t tell me you let that cherub with that man. And I thought that the Dursleys were a bad choice. Albus!_
\- _Calm yourself, my dear. I have every confidence in young Severus or I wouldn’t have asked you to make him that offer._
\- _I’m sorry, Professor, mister!_
\- _That’s quite alright, Hagrid. We still have some time to retrieve Harry before morning come. Minerva?_
In a matter of seconds, both the headmaster and McGonagall had disappeared in whirl and Hagrid was left alone.
\- _I shouldn’t have done that _Hagrid mumbled guiltily.__
____
**~*~**
____ | 9c1009bc729e494099c8aa61f325c3a9 | ['36cdb375db33408c893316ac8a5c53f3'] | Suddenly his previous bad mood disappeared at the silliness of it and the rest of the morning was relaxed. They breakfasted on the couch and simply stayed there to pass the rest of the morning. At his side, Daniel sniffled slightly, trying to subtly wipe his nose, and Jack chuckled, adjusting the light throw over him and sliding the Kleenex box closer. Five years old, he thought once more and smiled, five years and not a day more.
(Mid-day)
"What part of 'no!' don't you understand?" Jack was holding his finger under Daniel's nose trying to drive his point home. "Jack!" Daniel in scholar-mode was hard to shut down, but Jack was determined. "No! Niet! Non! And it will be the same answer in any of all the languages you know." Unbelievably, he was rewarded with silence. He had won, he couldn't believe it?
For an instant, he was on the apex of happiness, truly believing he had managed to get the upper hand, then... "Ja'aack, it's just one tiny old manuscript." Puppy dog eyes had been turned on to full strength and he knew he’d been fooling himself. So, he got up and grabbed his jacket, patted his pocket making sure he had his key. “Not one world.” he warned and then, he was gone.
\--
Daniel was stunned, but soon a wide grin crossed his face. He won.
(Evening)
Unlike his town apartment, Jack’s place was in the suburbs making it darker and calmer. Strangely, even with the television on, it felt like an evening around the camp fire. "Danny? You want something? Snack? Drink? ... Artifact?" It wasn't very often that Jack said it correctly, even in teasing, but still, he didn't want anything, shaking his head. "Come one, just some water. Do you have any idea what Janet would do to me if you got dehydrated?" For a moment, Daniel seriously considered the idea and admitted defeat. No, he didn't have an idea. "Me neither and I want to keep it that way." A water bottle was handed to him and, diligently, he sipped it. He had felt fine during the day, but with the evening approaching, the discomfort was returning. At least the fresh water seemed to ease the tightness of his throat. The manuscript Jack had fetched for him remained untouched for the last hour, half done. His stuffy mind was unable to understand the last part. He may have just overdone it, and Jack had put an end to his study when his eyes started closing by themselves. Now, they were just resting, lazing in front of the TV.
Jack looked at the clock. Ten o’clock. Time to go to bed, he though, tomorrow will be a busy day. The guys had agreed to a friendly hockey match in the afternoon and he wanted to use the morning to do some overdue house chores. As for Daniel, well Janet assured him this was just 48h bug going around the base, so he was certain that Daniel will be well enough to survive a few hours on his own.
Jack looked at Daniel, the other man had been sleeping on the couch for the last two hours straight and did not look that comfortable. "Rise and shine, Dannyboy," he called softly, shaking his friend’s shoulder. In spite of his effort, Daniel seemed down for the count, the only sound coming from his limp form being some mumbling. "...or just crawl and groan," Jack finished, poking the sleeping form.
“I’ll t’ke the s’cond,” was finally mumbled as Daniel try to crawl between the cushion.
“Come one slow poke, you bed will be more comfy.” Jack cajoled, sliding a hand behind Daniel’s head, helping him to stand and sending to bed where he slithered under the down.
"Not yet, Buddy. I got the good stuff for you. Now, open your front."
"No. Sticky! Wanna sleep."
"Remember last night." Jack warned
Daniel was pouting, but reluctantly he started to open his top.
Again, Jack applied the warm mixture, back and front, trying not to laugh Daniel's expression of disgust at the gooey texture.
\--
Yuck! But he had to admit that the felling of warmth and the strong odor coming from the past were helpful, contrary to Jack obvious glee. The man was having way too much fun, mindful to not missing a spot, all the way up to his neck. Thankfully, soon, the quilt was back under his chin and Daniel was fast asleep.
**Day 3**
The banging and clanging of kitchen utensils woke him up from heavy sleep. "Grrr!" For crying out loud! He had hoped to wake up after sunrise today, Daniel however seemed to be an early riser. He must have felt better. Groggily, Jack looked at his alarm clock. 9! He jumped off the bed. "Whoa." The room reeled around him and he grabbed the head-board to find his equilibrium. Too fast O'Neill, he chastised himself.
Quickly, he washed, changed his clothes and gathered his equipment for the game. He still felt a bit off beat, but put it down to oversleeping. Finally ready, he joined Daniel downstairs, hoping that the racket from earlier was in fact the sound of breakfast making and that he could take advantage of it. It was! The table had been set up, tablecloth, silverware and folded napkins; and as soon as he sat down a plate of homemade French toast was set in front of him. It smelt good.
“Marry me?!”
Daniel burst out in laugher at the adoring look Jack was giving the breakfast.
“Where’s my diamond ring?”
Jack chuckles quickly turned into a couple of coughs and Daniel started to notice that contrary to his returning health, his C.O. was not in the best shape. A second coughing attack confirmed it.
\--
“I’m going!”
They’ve been arguing for a while. Stay…Go…Stay…Go. Of course, Jack wanted to go the game, but it was clear that he was in no shape to play hockey. God knows, it was a wonder he even got the strength to argue his point. Daniel put it down to pure stubbornness. In the end, Jack had to give up, beaten by a coughing fit that nearly had him folded in two. After that, Daniel and just marched him to bed and then made some calls to notify both the base and the hockey team captain of Jack’s absence. The man had obviously caught his virus. Daniel smiled.
Daniel stepped into the room and Jack immediately felt apprehensive. There was a suspicious ‘cat eating eat the canary’ smirk on his face he did not trust. Then he saw IT and felt dread.
"No." But the little asshole he took into his home and nursed back to health these last days just keep on smiling. "No. Chest hair!"
"But remember Jack! You will fell so much better." Daniel was holding the salve container in triumph, enjoying this way too much.
"NO!" Jack nasal objections could not stop him and a spread thick layer of the salve, consciously, back and front. “There you go, all stick… I mean, all better.”
"One of these days," Jack hissed between clenched teeth, an empty treat, probably.
"Does this mean you won't marry me anymore?" Daniel tried to look devastated, yet cackled.
"Grr!" Jack turned his back to his friend as Daniel made his way out with a snicker.
**The End** |
7f5c2a6f7ec14d42afb6f3345fa21363 | ['36d0476a372b4e86a478ca79d716b2e9'] | The 27th of September was a mildly cloudy day with a contradictory positive ambience. Buccellati, the leader of the small faction of Passione to which Mista and Giorno belonged, was showered in gifts and best wishes for his birthday.
Giorno and Mista decided to present the puppy to the birthday boy together. Through a vague series of questions ( _"Have you ever had a pet?" "Are you allergic to anything?" "Do you seem to have time for others these days?"_ ), the two were confident that their thoughts would be well-received. Dressed up in a blue bandana that Giorno cut to his size, she was boarded up in the hideout on an early morning as the pair awaited Buccellati arrival.
He eventually arrived after a surplus of doubts and sweat from the two with a soft step and smile. He adjusted his 14k rose gold Rolex before addressing the two.
"I can tell that you're hiding your present in there. It's my birthday, after all. Feel free to show me without the chatter."
"Well, good morning to you too, birthday boy," Mista jokingly snarled while opening the door.
As the lot were let in and the door was closed behind them, the decorated puppy nonchalantly trotted up to Buccellati's feet and took a whiff of his shoes. In turn, Buccellati's eyes widened and agrin could be seen growing on his face. He kneeled and began scratching the dog behind her ear.
Mista let out a satisfied chuckle as Giorno hushed him and began to speak.
"She was from a family who didn't want her...her owners named her Valentina originally. You can call her whatever you want."
"...You brought her to me, so I think I should let you do the honors," Buccellati replied while petting the dog with both hands.
"You sure, Buccellati? It's your dog, and-"
Giorno once again stopped Mista, this time by putting his hand on his shoulder.
"How about...Diana? She is the Roman goddess of fertility, which can equate to life. And you were talking about how we should give Buccellati the gift of life the other day, weren't you, Mista?"
"Oh...that's a good name...and yeah, I was. You see, you just seem so stressed all the time by looking out for us, and we wanted you to have someone to, you know, unwind with. Even though you're gonna have to look after her too, sort of."
After what seemed to be after ages of gawking at Diana, Buccellati got up and grabbed each man by the upper arm for a three-way hug. He buried his head where their shoulders met. He then quickly let go and revealed a red flush in his cheeks.
"I...she's adorable. I don't know what to say..."
He wiggled his fingers and giggled awkwardly.
"Thank you...you two. Thank you."
Diana, seeming jealous for the attention that Giorno and Mista were getting, stared with big eyes at her new friend. Buccellati lifted her up and carried her in his arms.
"She seems to have a liking for me already..."
A quick smile and the still red-flushed cheeks of Buccellati caused the others to respond similarly - with grins and flushes of their own.
"Hes...kinda cute like this," Mista whispered to Giorno, who nodded in agreement.
Buccellati, not sure of what he just heard, headed further inside the series of rooms.
"Well, Fugo made reservations for the six of us at _Posto Per Mangiare Cibo_ for eleven this morning."
"That's an odd name for a restaurant," Giorno remarked, "but we'll be sure to come."
"And by the way, you two...again..." The flush was still apparent in the leader's face as he spoke. "...thank you."
As Diana and her new owner left, Mista and Giorno high fived and squeezed hands for a job well done. | ee5817addf7f45e9815fb4cfc7651a34 | ['36d0476a372b4e86a478ca79d716b2e9'] |
loss of pride
**Author's Note:**
> written as another gift for another friend because she gave me a lot of fish on flight rising. she asked for josuyasu. hope u enjoy
He shouldn't have played games all night. Josuke briskly pulled on his uniform in his attempt to get ready on time, which he knew he'd never do. Knowing that his friend would be just as late comforted him, but didn't disrupt his haste. His mom screaming from four rooms away didn't do any good either.
"Why don't you not do your hair for a change?! That's why you're late all the time anyways!"
"Ugh, mom, just stop it! I'm almost done!"
Before heading to his bathroom, Josuke checked his watch:
7:26 a.m.
Shit.
School started in about 15 minutes. Walking to school would take about 10, waiting for Okuyasu 3, waving to the girls 2, putting his stuff in place another 3...he'd never have time. Not to mention that his hair was still undone. It took much longer to do his hair than all those other things.
He heard footsteps from rooms away, and saw his mom heading into the bathroom from the mirror in front of him.
"Just don't do your hair. I don't even understand why you take so much pride in it."
"Mrm, my hr ish mr lrfe!"
He rinsed out his mouth and his toothbrush.
"I wouldn't be caught dead without my hair done!"
While beginning to wash his face, Tomoko looked to the side for a few minutes, making several "hmm" sounds every couple of seconds, probably for emphasis.
"Maybe if you went to school without your hair done, you can play a little game."
Josuke turned to his mother. "Huh? A game?"
"Yeah, a game...you can see who recognizes you without your hair done. You said it's your life, right? There's a lot more to you than looks. See who really recognizes the true you."
"Mom, I may be self-absorbed, but I'm definitely not stupid. I'm going to school with my hair done no matter what."
"Oh god." Tomoko pulled at her son's ear and dragged him out of the bathroom, towel still in hand, and hair still undone. She shut the bathroom door and led him down the stairs.
"But-but mom!"
"This is the billionth time you've been late for school this month. If you don't get your breakfast and go NOW, I'm taking away your games for a week."
"You can't do that!"
"Eat your breakfast."
She spectated as her son sluggishly sipped down his coffee and grabbed a piece of toast and a boxed lunch.
"Do you really have to watch me?"
"I don't trust you."
Josuke was eventually led out the door.
"Have a nice day at school!"
"...Whatever. Bye."
The door was slammed in his face. He walked out to the street, back slouched and staring at his feet. His undone hair drooped by the side of his face.
It wasn't long before he saw a familiar face waiting for him at the end of a nearby street.
"Hey, Josu-huh?"
Josuke looked up at Okuyasu from beneath his mop of long black hair.
"Hey."
"Dude, what happened to your hair? It's...normal."
"I was gonna be late and my mom wouldn't let me do it."
"Damn. That's a bummer."
The two commenced their walking.
"You should cut your hair short or something. You could make it into a pomp and it wouldn't take that long of a time."
"It wouldn't be the same, though. My hair's my life."
"True..."
"You know, your hair's a lot longer than I'd imagined it to be without the 'do."
"Well, how do you think it got so big? If I had a little hair it'd be like yours or something."
"I dunno...magic. It's 1999. A lot of stuff's becoming modern."
Feeling Josuke's melancholy, Okuyasu avoided saying anything for the rest of the walk. Josuke appreciated this - Okuyasu didn't look it, but he was a very good friend.
They reached their school several steps later. Several people, from teachers to students, stared at the two in confusion.
"That kid....is he new or something?"
Josuke lowered his head in embarrassment. He spoke to himself quietly to reassure himself.
"It's okay. It's just for one day."
They eventually reached their homeroom class, which they shared with other friends, after putting their things in place. The class, void of their homeroom teacher, all laid their eyes on the long-haired stranger entering the room. Whispers went around.
"Who's that?"
"He looks kinda familiar..."
"What's Nijimura doing with him?"
He reluctantly went over to his seat in the back of the room. A friend turned to him.
"That's someone else's seat..."
Josuke pulled his head up from his hair.
"Koichi. Dude. It's me." He pulled his hair up to his head, attempting to mimic his usual hairstyle.
"Oh, Josuke! I didn't recognize you! What happened?"
"I was late. My mom locked me out of the bathroom."
"Oh, um...sorry. I didn't recognize you."
"'S fine.
Josuke put his hands and head on his desk. His homeroom teacher then walked into the room and began taking attendance.
"Higashikata Josuke?"
No answer.
"...Higashikata Josuke?"
"Here." He slightly raised his head above his desk and put his hand up. More whispers came from his peers. His teacher stared directly at him.
"What happened to your hair?"
"Long story."
"Remember to do it tomorrow. I don't wanna see you being this lazy on your work today."
Chuckles came from across. Shamed, he buried his head into his arms once again. Koichi turned to him.
"Josuke..."
"Don't mind me. I'll just have a shit day."
The rest of the day, as Josuke had expected, went terribly. None of his teachers recognized him. He was stared and laughed at by several students. Seniors who he had taught a lesson to in the past took the opportunity to tease him.
"Hey, Higashikata, what happened to that pride of yours?"
"Shut up. Not today." |
a4516a00f5db49018524fc9ca656e244 | ['36e2ea17d8e34fd298e33e07f884e156'] | Shiro walks around the castle calling out Hunk’s name. The big guy didn’t meet him in the training ring. Shiro had waited for nearly a full dobash when he decided to find the yellow paladin himself. Why would the guy pull Shiro into a training section and not show up?
Well, he has a suspicion. The team in general has been acting strange for about a week. Keith has been following him like a lost puppy. Pidge has all but forbidden anyone from entering her lab unless there was an emergency, and demanded to know who was entering before opening the door. Lance has stopped lounging and seems to be productive, which is good news, but slightly out of character. Allura has only spoken of the mission, never taking a moment to joke around. And Coran has basically ignored him entirely. The only one not acting strange had been Hunk - until about a dobash ago - who’s been spending time in the kitchen, as usual. They think they’re all clever, but Shiro’s not an idiot. He knows something’s up. But whether they’re all leaving him in the dark on the same project or all just have their own crap going on, Shiro hasn’t decided.
Still, the castle shouldn’t be this quite. Shouldn’t be this empty.
Shiro’s footsteps echo along the empty halls and his voice seems to carry for longer than usual. The ship is enormous; way too much space for seven space travelers alone. But even in the empty spaces, there’s normally always some noise going on somewhere: the sounds of metal and computers chirping in Pidge’s lab, or Lance’s Enrique Iglesias or Pedrito Martinez Group music carrying about the halls, or Hunk tinkering in the forge or kitchen. This is the usual soundtrack that bounces off the halls of the space castle. But now, those background noises are completely gone, making the actual size of the seemingly empty castle known.
Shiro finds himself feeling suddenly very small. And very alone.
Where the hell is Hunk?
***
“Spotlights?” Coran yells.
“Check!” Allura responds.
“Balloons?”
“Check check,” Hunks responds.
“Karaoke machine and music?”
“Got you covered chief!” Lance yells back.
Coran carries through the checklist, making sure all the details are completed. Allura stands by him, adding comments here and there. Being who they are, they are both meticulous in their party planning and everything is turning out perfect. Instead of finding a friendly plant to host their party, they have opted to turn the lion hanger into their own party room. The Blade of Marmora, Residents fighters, and a few key allies are present, helping put the finishing touches around the normally cement hanger. The lions loom overhead, providing safely and familiarizes to the party atmosphere.
When everything looks just about ready, Coran turns to Hunk. “Alright then Hunk, you’re up. Go find Shiro!”
Hunk’s eyebrows meet in wrinkled confusion. “I already did..?”
Coran’s blood freezes. “You did what?!”
“You told me to go get him a few vargas ago, which I told you was strange because we weren’t done yet.”
“You already fetched him?” Coran clarifies.
“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”
“Then where is he?” Allura nearly shrieks, turning the eyes of some of the party guests.
“I told him to meet me in the training ring but that was a long time ago. I’d be shocked if he was still there.”
“Hunk!” Keith yells.
“What!” Hunk wipes around to face Keith.
“So Shiro has been wandering around the castle for several hours looking for you? With no one in sight?” Keith looks about ready to strangle Hunk. It’s not a new look for him, but it’s normally directed at Lance. Hunk doesn’t like being on the receiving end of that purple glare. Pidge can be heard groaning in annoyance across the hanger but everyone ignores her.
“Calm down man. Shiro’s a big boy, he’s fine.”
“And he’s right here!” Pidge calls out.
Everyone turns to see Pidge walking Shiro into the hanger, pulling the man of the hour around by the left arm. He wears a face of deep crimson, making the scar across his nose stand out more than usual. But his smile is impossible to hide, no matter how hard he tries.
Kolivan is the first to recover. He gives an unseen order to his Blades and they respond in unison. They shot grapple guns into the mile high ceiling, immediately jump down, and land cheering “SURPRISE!”
The paladins and Resistance fighters follow suit. They run to their pre-determined hiding places then all jump out at different times, yelling “Surprise!” at different intervals, creating an awkward song of “Surprise, happy birthday!” that doesn’t seem to end.
And he can’t help it. Shiro lets out a deep-belly laugh that fills the hanger louder then ‘surprise’ song. Pidge laughs along with him, because the sight in front of them — heavily armed fighters, masked Blades, street clothed paladins falling over themselves in rapid jump-scares — is just too much. Even after the chorus dies down, Shiro and Pidge can’t stand up straight.
“Guys,” Ships lets out between laughs. “Guys! What… what are you…” He finally gathers himself enough to speak. “What are you doing?”
No one really answers, mostly because no one expected this kind of response. They did all that planning to be laughed at?
“Shiro,” Pidge says between deep breaths. “It’s a surprise party. Regardless of the ‘surprise aspect,’ it’s a birthday party for you.”
“What are you-?”
Lance says “Keith figured out-“
“I figured out,” Pidge cuts in.
“-that your birthday was coming up. Pidge figured out that it’s today. And we all figured that you deserved to celebrate turning six! Again!”
“Oh god,” Shiro mutters. “Guys, I’m not six.”
"You’re six!” All the paladins conform excitingly. Shiro’s shoulders drop half-heartedly. He’s used to this joke and he’ll deny it if anyone accuses him of enjoying it. | d740281b14284a18bbc97dcd711c621e | ['36e2ea17d8e34fd298e33e07f884e156'] | “He deserves, hum?” Bruce asked. Dick was his son, of course he loved him. But did he necessarily _deserve_ anything? Martha and Thomas Wayne didn’t deserve to be shot. Bruce didn’t deserve to watch. Mary Loyd and John Grayson didn’t deserve sabotage. Dick didn’t deserve to watch. Every single victim Batman and Robin saved on the streets didn’t deserve _half_ the shit Gotham threw at them. And yet, shit just kept happening. “You know as well as I do that no one deserves anything. Dick _has_ to know that.”
“He does. He sees and fights the same horrors you do. Do that not mean he, more so than most children, he needs some joy?” Bruce was taken aback. It wasn’t often that Alfred challenged Bruce outright. In fact, the only times he did, it involved Dick in one way or another. And most of the time, he was right. “I’m not asking you to reinstate the charity gala. I am suggestion that, maybe in this season of giving and family, your son may want more than a grapple hook. Ponder that, Master Bruce.” With that, Alfred left Bruce to his own devices.
_Damn you, Alfred,_ Bruce thought. He knew the older man was right. If he was being honest, he wanted to give Dick a good Christmas. After watching the boy’s disappointment last year, he’d been thinking of ways to change this year. But… every time he even thought of trying to have a Christmas, he could all but feel that bullet ripping into his own chest, feel the sucky blood on his hands.
_How Dick?_ Bruce asked himself. _How?_
***December 20th, 2am ***
Dick couldn’t help it. He knew how Bruce felt about Christmas, the guy wasn’t exactly settle. But Dick wasn’t Bruce, and Christmas was magical, not matter what Bruce said. He was curled up under his blanks, reading _‘Twas the Night Before Christmas_. This story was more than a book. It was one of the few things he was able to bring with him from Haly's Circus. It came from his mother’s mother, and he had refused to leave his home without it. Unlike Bruce, Dick didn’t like pretending that his parents never existed. It was Zucco that ruined Christmas, but his family made it special, whether they were there or not. They existed between the pages of Clement C. Moore’s poem.
He was so engrossed in visions of sugar plums, he didn’t even hear the click of the door opening and closing. He didn’t even notice until the comforters was pulled back and he found himself face to face with Bruce. Startled, he rushed to hide his the book. “Bruce! I didn’t, how did, what?”
Bruce cracked the smallest of smiles. “You okay chum?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t hear you come in. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“What are you reading?” Bruce asked, ignoring the question.
“Nothing.” Bruce huffed, pulling the book out from under Dick’s pillow. “I’m sorry,” Dick said shyly. “I know you don’t like Christmas. But… I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to apologize for liking Christmas Dick.” Dick stared at his father figure, awestruck. That wasn’t normal for Bruce. “This was your dad’s, right?”
“Mom’s. Grandma’s actually.”
Bruce stared at the book for a long time. Finally, he looked Dick in the eye and said “what do you think about skipping school tomorrow?”
“Wait, what?”
“Well, break starts the next day. What would you say if we started break early?”
“I’d say duh! But why?”
Again, Bruce didn’t answer. He looked at the book again, took a deep breath, and got up to leave the room. “Get some sleep chum. I’ll see you in the morning.” Dick nodded as Bruce got up to leave, taking the book with him.
The next day was… awkward. After sleeping late, Bruce went to wake up his son. They spent the morning together, having breakfast and practicing Krav Maga. They then spend the day attempting to make sugar cookies, a food normally forbin in a household of crime fighters. Without Alfred’s touch, they were dry and tasted more of flower then sugar.
Honestly, the baking hurt Bruce more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't help but remember the last time he tried to make cookies, decades ago. He was seven, his father and Alfred were helping him make cookies for his classes Christmas party.
But Alfred was right. It was time to stop living in the past. Whatever form that took, for Dick, he could at least try.
***8 years later***
Christmas meant little to Jason. To a kid on the streets, Christmas was just another cold day on the calendar in December. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up, but moving into a billionaire home probably did come with some perks. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to Christmas, but it had to be better than getting donated food from a church on Christmas.
He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either. Bruce didn’t like Christmas, that much was obvious. The Christmas dinner was definitely better than church donation food, but it wasn’t exactly Christmassy either. After a normal dinner of chicken and veggies, Batman and Robin set out into the bitter cold night. Hours of kicking ass and taking names found them on a stakeout atop the mall roof. Looking down through the skylight, Jason could just make out Santa’s chair and slay. He was five when he stopped believing in Santa, but sights of magic always seemed to amaze him. On the street below, Bruce could hear carols bringing good tidings to you and your kin.
“Lets go,” Bruce said abruptly.
“What about the stakeout?” Jason demanded.
“We can do it from a different vantage point.”
It didn’t take long for Jason to put two and two together. He didn’t move from his spot. “What’s with you?”
Bruce turned to face the young Jason. “Excuse me?” |
34d0c5fb01f142b9bd3b08afc858c4ae | ['370136de2d4646d78dee36d34f408fa2'] |
Hung parliament
"Ah, fuck," Peter says, frowning at his phone.
"What's up?" Carl asks.
"Cameron's on course to get a majority."
"The election? No way."
"No, another David Cameron that wants to fuck up the country of yer birth, son."
"Fuck off." Carl moves next to Peter - he smells like mango juice and washing powder, says Carl's brain, without him thinking about it - to look at his phone.
Surprising, the iPhone, Carl thought when he first saw the bright white thing in Peter's hands. It's not him at all. Carl can remember the first mobile phone they had - fucking brick type thing on BT Cellnet. Must've been 1999 or something. Peter's parents had given him it, so he could keep in touch with them. It was never charged and it fell into some wet plaster at some point, but it worked when it needed to. Carl had assumed Peter would feel the same about a smartphone as he did - a necessary evil - but no, Peter loves it. He's even got fucking Pinterest on it.
He's got a news app open, and sure enough, the headline reads "Cameron to lead shock majority government".
"They said hung parliament," Carl says. "They said it'd happen like it did last time, no overall majority for anyone so someone would have to cobble something together." He feels dumbfounded.
"They were wrong." Peter chews his lip. A tiny bead of blood appears. "Exit polls last night said this, and now that cunt's got a fucking lead of 312 seats."
Carl does a quick calculation in his head of what time it is in Britain. Early Friday morning. "How many have said?"
"How many constituencies?"
Carl nods.
"Six hundred."
"Fuck."
"He only needs, what, to 326?"
"Dunno," Carl says. "Honestly, you're the politics one."
"Mmm." Peter rubs a shy hand across his head. "That's the majority. I mean Sinn Fein never turn up, so it's really only 323, so.... looks like he's won."
"I'm sure you're right." Carl moves back over to his guitar.
"Fuck. _Fuck_. Another bloody reason I don't want to live there anymore."
"Some of us have to," Carl says,a plectrum between his teeth. It comes out nastier than he means it to.
Peter hears it, too. His eyelids flutter and he looks down at the sheaf of lyrics they've been working on.
Carl plays extra carefully to make up for it.
*
John and Gary come in a while later, laughing . Gary claps Carl on the back on his way to the drums.
"Oh," Peter says. "Tory government back home, lads."
"Nah," Gary says, misunderstanding. "They'll be arguing for weeks, like last time."
Peter shakes his head. "They've won, Gaz. LibDems totally wiped out, Ed Balls lost his seat in Leeds."
Gary looks at him. He looks at Gary.
"It can't be," Gary says. "Hung parliament, they said. Cameron's supposed to be graceful in defeat and let the others cobble together some kind of government."
Peter just passes his phone across.
" _Fuck_ ," Gary says emphatically. "Fucking fuck."
"You said it," Peter says. He takes the phone back and puts it in his pocket. He pauses, for just a second or two, as if he's about to say something. But then he rifles the sheets of paper and the moment's passed.
*
Later still, they're about to eat. Peter checks his phone again.
"Cameron's triumphant return to Downing Street," he reads. "Ugh. He's asked the Queen if he can form a government."
"It's outdated, that, innit?" Carl muses. "Ridiculous really. She can't say no."
"She bloody should've this time. 'Sorry Mr Spadeface, one wouldn't trust you to run a wendy house, so no you may not form a government'."
"You might be being a bit harsh." Carl picks up a plate and joins the queue for the buffet, Peter right behind him.
They sit at an 8 seater table. John sits the other side of Carl, and then Gary sits down with Josh on the other side of Peter.
"Good grub tonight," Gary says, and raises his glass of Coke in mock-salute to the fact.
"Tis," Carl agrees, and digs in to a pile of fried calamari.
"You did vote, didn't you Carlos?" Peter asks a few minutes later.
He's the only person in the world who regularly calls Carl Carlos, and it's still weird, it still sounds weird that it's coming from right next to him, that soft and hopeful voice that Carl would know anywhere, in a crowd of a million he'd know Peter's voice.
"Carlos?" Peter says again, slightly more worriedly, when Carl doesn't answer.
"Course I voted," he says. "Had a postal one sent specially, since I was leaving the country."
"Oh, good," Peter says, looking slightly mollified.
Carl spears a spring roll.
"Carlos?" Peter says again. "You did vote for the right party, didn't you?"
"Yes, you fucking anarchist, I voted for the right party."
"Not really an anarchist, I mean - Labour are pretty shit at the moment, I do know that, but... What are your other choices? Really?"
"No one," Gary chimes in. "Have to just make the best of it and go with Labour."
"They're just not like they used to be," Peter sighs. "Party of the working man and woman, they were, party of the trade union."
"Yeah, yeah," Carl says. "Yer grandad was a striking miner and all that."
"My grandad _was_ a striking miner."
"My dad worked in a factory, Pete. Didn't mean he didn't vote Tory."
"Least said about _that_ the better..."
"Mmm," Carl mutters non-commitally.
There's a silence. Carl considers his forkful of rice and prawn.
John clears his throat; a non-confrontational noise if Carl ever heard one. "Not going to ask me how I went?" he asks Peter.
"Oh, fuck," Carl mumbles. | 44ad1750032c43b9803ed73175123a35 | ['370136de2d4646d78dee36d34f408fa2'] | Fab lets his fingers trail down Jules' body, down to the base of Jules' dick, his fingers touching it and into Nick's mouth. Nick looks up at him, eyes lidded.
Fuck, Fab wants someone to look at him like that.
Julian comes, his fingers still tugging on Nick's hair, his hips thrusting upwards into Nick's mouth. Fab keeps kissing him, keeps touching him; round to his balls and perineum, kisses his neck and shoulder. Julian starts swearing and Nick swallows, then licks his lips, smiling shyly at Jules.
"Guys," Fab says, "you do know we all know, right?"
"Sure," Julian says, tugging Nick up the bed into his arms.
"So just be out," Fab says. "Come on, no one cares. You care about each other."
"More than that," Nick says, settling into Jules' neck, where he dots several small kisses.
"Yeah," Jules agrees. "More than that."
"So just be yourselves," Fab says. "It suits you."
"Fuck you," Nick says, but there's no malice in it. "Maybe."
Fab laughs. "I should go."
"Go?" Jules says, sounding affronted. "Why? We're just getting started." He kisses Nick. "You should get undressed though."
Fab thinks about it, mostly for show rather than anything else, because he really _wants_ to stay.
Julian rolls his eyes.
Fab moves off the bed and gets undressed, watching Nick mostly, but Nick's eyes move up and down him slowly. Fab's never kissed Nick and he suddenly wonders what it would be like. He kneels next to Jules, butt naked, and leans over to kiss Nick. His mouth is soft, his lips full, and his _tongue_ \- fuck.
Jules laughs softly. "Pretty," he says appreciatively. He rubs up Fab's thigh and touches his dick, which is already msotly hard but which springs to attention under Julian's fingers. "Very very pretty," Jules says.
Fab keeps kissing Nick, touching his chest and stomach.
"Want to watch me fuck him?" Nick asks, pulling away slightly but close enough that Fab can see how wide his eyes are. He's sobered up, quickly.
"You, uh," Fab says stupidly. "You fuck him?"
"Sure, sometimes. He likes it."
Fab would've thought it would be the other way round. He can't imagine Julian liking it that way around, but he turns on to his stomach, smiling.
"Ever done this?" he asks Fab conversationally.
"Only to someone else," Fab says. He had a threesome with two guys once, and fucked one of them hard. He's had anal sex with a girl, too. But he's never had anyone do that to him, but watching Nick now, watching Julian's eyes close and his back arch slightly, Fab wants it. Fab wants someone to fuck him like that.
Nick pulls Jules' hips up, going deep into him. They're barebacking, Fab realises. They've been doing this long enough that they know they're both clean.
Jesus Christ, Fab thinks. Just _be together_. He touches Julian's face gently.
"If you've got a condom," Jules says as if he's reading Fab's mind, "then I'll suck you off."
"I do," Fab says, and reaches for it out of his pocket.
Nick slows, letting Julian move so that he can roll the sheath on to Fab, his fingers firm. Jesus. Fab kisses him again. Jules moves down, taking Fab's dick into his mouth slowly, teasingly, tiny bit by tiny bit.
Nick goes slow too, his fingers on Julian's hips, going deep into him and back out again, teasing Jules, whose mouth is so fucking beautiful that Fab thinks it should be outlawed.
It's too, too fucking good. When Fab comes he's got one hand in Julian's hair, pulling on it way harder than he means to. He drags Jules up to him for a sweaty messy kiss.
"Good - fuck," Jules says, and comes again himself, spilling cum on to Fab's thigh.
Nick comes almost silently, his eyes closed, mouthing something with no sound. Julian twists afterwards to kiss him, and the two of them collapse next to Fab, kissing softly.
"Good?" Jules asks, looking at Fab.
Fab removes the condom, nodding. "You guys are too cute."
"We'll talk about just being out," Jules says.
"Just fuckin' do it," Fab says. He stands up and goes to the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Jules sees him out to the door a while later, dressed just in his boxers. "Never bet against a Casablancas," he says, and kisses Fab full on the mouth. "You'll always lose."
"I didn't fuckin' lose," Fab says.
Fab doesn't speak to either Nick or Jules for over a week. He speaks to Niko, but neither of them mention the poker game.
Then, ten days after the game, Fab gets a text from Jules. It says, 'hey, wanna come play some more poker?' and then there's a wink emoji.
Fab laughs, and this time, packs a bag. |
f0114a522305498bb4b4684700befcda | ['3725f8159b43459ea1f0ea3d30705c8b'] |
**Author's Note:**
> This was written after 4x11 but before 4x12, so it just assumes May was rescued from the Framework after having relived the "better" version of Bahrain.
One month.
It had barely been one month since May had escaped Radcliffe's hellhole. So why did her first mission back in the field have to end with her and Daisy running through some godforsaken forest in the middle of the night, clutching a stolen revolver and hoping against hope their SHIELD tracker wasn't broken?
She spared a glance toward her former student. Daisy was breathing harder than usual, clutching her left arm awkwardly to her side as if it pained her. The first thing those damned watchdogs did was take away her gauntlets, and she'd had to use her powers several times during their escape. They'd barely had time for May to swipe a weapon and their tracker from a fallen guard before running toward the network of caverns May had seen on the map during their mission briefing, noting it as a good hiding spot and hoping they wouldn't have to use it.
Like that ever happened.
Suddenly they broke through the treeline, a mound of earth and rock rising before them. May caught sight of a darker patch of blackness in the silhouette. The entrance. She motioned to Daisy and they headed into the caverns. They had barely made it 10 meters in before movement May caught movement at the edge of her vision. Before she could cry out, a watchdog sprang from the shadows and caught Daisy by the throat, swinging her around in front of him to press his pistol against her temple.
May immediately raised her stolen weapon at the two of them... and froze.
"You'll pay for what you've done," the watchdog snarled.
Daisy spoke quickly in a low, calm voice. "May, take the shot."
The watchdog pressed his forearm hard against her larynx, and Daisy choked on a breath. "Quiet," he hissed dangerously.
May stood, immobile. She'd had shots like this before, but her finger refused to move. Visions of Bahrain, the real Bahrain, flashed in front of her eyes. A revolver held in front of her, like the one she now held. A dirty room. Bodies. A young girl, bleeding in her arms. Dying. Dead, because of her. It was her fault. She was supposed to protect, to be a shield, and yet all she brought was death.
"May." Daisy's voice cut through her visions, and she met the determined eyes of her student. "I trust you."
"I said _QUIET_!" the man roared, raising his knee to strike sharply against Daisy's injured arm. She cried out in agony and May winced.
"She can't help you," the watchdog sneered, realizing. "She's too afraid."
It was over in the blink of an eye. The watchdog started to aim his pistol away from Daisy's head and toward May. Daisy twisted out of his grip and thrust her arm against his chest. Her powers pulsed and May heard two sickening cracks: one from his spine, the other from Daisy's arm.
That sound snapped May fully back to the present. Daisy lay on the ground, half-curled in a protective ball around her ruined arm. Tears squeezed out from her tightly shut eyes and her pale face was already covered in a sheen of sweat.
"Daisy." The only response was a whimper. A small chunk of rock fell from above, and May noticed new cracks racing across the stone ceiling. Apparently the younger agent hadn't been able to fully contain her powers. "Daisy," she said again, letting urgency slip into her tone. "We need to go now."
Daisy half-raised her uninjured arm and let May pull her to her feet, biting back an agonized groan. May pulled Daisy's arm across her shoulders and they stumbled forward, further into the network of caverns just as the a pile of rocks and rubble cascaded down where they had been standing mere moments ago. May noticed how heavily Daisy was leaning against her shoulders, her white face and ragged breathing. Shock.
"Daisy, I need you to talk to me."
"What... what the hell happened back there? You froze." Daisy gasped, panting as their quickened pace sent fresh jolts of pain through her arm. "You never freeze."
May set her jaw. "I'll tell you later."
Daisy scoffed halfheartedly. "You'll tell me now, or I swear I'll pass out right here and make you drag me."
May ground her teeth a final time before capitulating. "Radcliffe," she practically spat the name. "He kept me trapped in a simulation. I was reliving Bahrain."
Daisy cursed under her breath.
"Except it wasn't Bahrain. In his simulation, I didn't kill the girl. We made it out. My life didn't end that day." she laughed bitterly. "Until I finally got out, and remembered the truth. That I'm just as much a monster as I've ever been."
"'s not true." There was a crease in Daisy's forehead and her eyes were screwed shut, but she shook her head. "Not your fault."
As much as May wanted to believe those words, she'd given up on them long ago.
"Just a little further." She remember the map, there was an area where the edge of the caverns passed close to the exterior of the hill. SHIELD should get our signal from there. | 6cf2bc2ab6ab4166b179eeecfb5cc5db | ['3725f8159b43459ea1f0ea3d30705c8b'] | “Just the one, I think,” she said, searching through the kit for a roll of bandages. Ethan began to lift the hem of his shirt to expose the wounded area, then pulled short with a grunt of pain. Illsa shot him a reprimanding look and took the handful of fabric from him, gently pulling it upward to reveal a mottled patchwork of black and purple bruises covering his abdomen. Her mouth opened slightly and she ghosted a hand across the worst of the bruises. Their eyes met, concern and reassurance passing silently between them.
It was a quick task to wrap his injuries, her hands moving with a deftness born of more practical experience than either of them would have wished. Ethan gave a shallow sigh of relief when the task was done and immediately regretted the motion. The wrap eased some of the pain, but all but the most shallow breaths would remain an unpleasant experience for some time. Ilsa gave him a sympathetic look.
“Your turn,” he said.
She shook her head, taking a fresh roll of bandages from the kit. “Not yet.” She leaned over to start wrapping a brace around his injured knee, then stopped short. The small motion had sent a stab of pain through her temples and a roiling nausea through her stomach. Ethan immediately noted the gray tinge to her face and unfocused eyes, and took the bandages from her still hand.
“Your turn,” he insisted.
Reluctantly, she closed her eyes and leaned back. It was hard to argue with a concussion, and throwing up on him wouldn’t help either of them. Ethan cut off a section of gauze, dampened it in the bowl of water, and gently parted her blood-crusted hair to clean the wound on her scalp. He gave a _hmm_ of dissatisfaction at the realization it was still bleeding slightly.
“What’s the score?” he asked conversationally, pressing the bandage to her head.
She gave a tired hum of annoyance, eyes still closed. “Now?”
“Why not?” They had to keep each other awake somehow.
She fell silent, and for a moment Ethan feared she had fallen asleep.
“You’re still leading me by three cracked ribs and a concussion,” she stated a moment later.
“So I’m winning?” He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a grin.
She cracked an eye open to glare at him, although its intimidating effect was somewhat lessened by the amused curl of her lip.
“ _I’m_ winning,” she corrected him. “The goal is to be _less_ injured than the other person.”
He hummed in dissatisfaction. “I’ve never understood games where lower scores win.”
“No one likes a sore loser,” she teased, eyes closed again.
“Well, in this case, the loser is always sore,” he quipped back. He went to grab a fresh section of bandage, but over-extended his reach and felt a firey stab of pain in his ribs. Ilsa caught the hitch in his breathing and looked at him in concern.
“Lay down,” she ordered.
Ethan opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. He pivoted on the couch with slow, careful motions, gently lowering himself down until he was laid flat with his head pillowed on her leg. From this new, more comfortable position, he took brief inventory of his physical condition and decided it could be summarized rather neatly in one word.
“Ow.”
His eyes were closed now, lines of pain etched in his face. Ilsa ran a gentle hand through his hair and felt him relax at the comforting motion. She reached over him to dampen a cloth in the water and began cleaning some of the blood from his face. As much as she preferred the comfortable silence, she had to keep them awake.
“It’s rather fun, you know,” she said. “Working in the field for the same organization. Despite all the injuries.”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said with a grin. “It was kind of exciting wondering if you were going to kill me.”
“That could still be arranged,” she retorted in the same joking tone.
She worked in silence for a moment, carefully cleaning around the cut on his brow.
“But the way you work, I doubt I’ll get the chance,” she said softly.
She had only been with the IMF for less than a year, but Ethan’s reckless disregard for danger had made that time feel twice its length. She was already beginning to lose track of how many times they had searched for Ethan after a mission, never knowing whether they would find him unconscious, blue from exposure, shot, stabbed… or even if they would find him at all.Too many times she had to staunch the flow of blood from his wounds, and sit by his bed wondering when—or if—he would wake. Even tonight, she had watched his small, damaged plane descend far too rapidly into the forest, lost radio contact, and ran through the trees with her heart in her mouth toward the crash site—until noticing the light on in his small cabin safehouse along the way.
Ethan caught the worry in her tone and opened his eyes. He started to reach up to her face, but the pain in his ribs shortened the motion to resting his hand on her arm. Her concern was not one-sided. His mind drifted to a mission that had occurred months previously, when he had found her lying motionless with blood pooling around her head, and the prayers and promises he had uttered in the long, long seconds before she finally stirred in his arms.
Ilsa moved her arm so his hand slid down and caught it in her own, twining their fingers together. She knew he longed to voice promises to be safe, to be careful, but he remained silent for the same reason she did: the reassurances would be empty. They were spies. Every mission they chose to accept came with the chance to lose it all.
_Still_ , Ethan thought, momentarily tightening his grasp on her hand. _It was good to have something to lose._
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks for reading this far! I will love you forever if you leave a review :D
>
> Also, I’m posting this at 3am, so please let me know if there are typos, grammatical errors, or other stupid mistakes! |
95be35137bc2439d82f80086da579dfa | ['37416fe1381d4ed9aba93f65ada51931'] | 1. Asking For Help (Ermac)
**Author's Note:**
> I own nothing but this fic.
"Ermac" Scorpion said. Ermac was finishing off his opponent before he could answer Scorpion.
"May I help you gay hell spawn?" Ermac said.
Scorpion wanted to get angry, but that would mess up his intent of seeing Ermac. "I wanted to ask you a favor..." Scorpion said.
Ermac, shocked turned to Scorpion. "If it's about me dating Mileena I already said no."
"No it's something different..."
"Then ask away."
Scorpion took a deep breath and asked "Can you give me a face?"
Silence was in the air. Ermac was shocked. 'Why would he ask me for a face. He was happy without it before ...' Ermac thought.
"You want... a face?"
"Yes Ermac"
"But why?"
Scorpion didn't really want to say but he had to. "It's for Sub-Zero. Our anniversary is today, and I wanted a face so I could kiss him and for... other things..."
"ALRIGHT I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT!" Ermac exclaimed "ILL GIVE YOU THE FACE JUST DONT SAY THE OTHER THINGS, PLEASE."
'This was easier than I thought' Scorpion said to himself.
Ermac used his powers and all his might to give Scorpion a face. After a big explosion was heard, Ermac stopped to see the face he created.
"Scorpion... Are you okay?"
"Give.me.a.mirror." Scorpion ordered.
Ermac handed Scorpion a mirror and saw that scorpion was shocked.
"Is it that bad?" Ermac asked.
"I... I look like I did when I was alive."
Scorpion said nervously.
"So that's good or?"
"ITS GREAT!" Scorpion exclaimed.
"Thank you Ermac."
"Just leave. I don't need your gay presence anymore."
Scorpion ran off to Mileena's place next.
2. Asking For Help (Mileena)
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Mileena is a bitch.
Scorpion was walking through town trying out his new face. He finally could eat ice cream, ice, and other cold snacks. He looked through stores to see if he could avoid Mileena's place and just go home to be with Sub-Zero.
"I'll be there soon Kuai." Scorpion said to himself.
Scorpion looked through all the stores and markets, yet he couldn't find a single teddy bear.
"Great. Now I have to see huge ass teeth girl."
Scorpion ran off to Mileena's.
\-------------------------------------------
Scorpion arrived at Mileena's house in no time. He knocked on the door only to have teddy bears thrown at his face.
"What do you want Scorpion?" Mileena asked.
"Well, I just wanted a teddy bear, so thanks."
Scorpion turned to leave but was stopped by Mileena.
"Wait, your face. You have one?"
"Thanks to Ermac."
"Mmm Ermac, I bet he tastes delicious…"
"Exact reason why he won't date you."
"SHUT UP GAY LORD AND LEAVE!"
"Bye Mileena."
Mileena growled and Scorpion ran off to his place to surprise Kuai.
3. I'm Home Kuai
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Scorpion comes home to Sub-Zero. BTW Scorpion(Hanzo) Sub-Zero(Kuai)
Scorpion finally arrived home. He put on his mask to hide the surprise. Then he opened the door to see that Sub-Zero made dinner.
"Hello Hanzo" Sub-Zero said, kissing Scorpion on the cheek. "Happy Anniversary."
Scorpion sat lazily on the couch. "Is something wrong Hanzo?" Sub-Zero asked.
"I'm fine Kuai"
"Are you sure? Don't lie to me Hanzo."
Scorpion sighed
"Did someone hurt you?" Sub-Zero asked, while his arms turned blue in anger.
Scorpion pulled a teddy bear from behind his back and gave it to Sub-Zero.
"Thank you Hanzo!"
"It's nothing really..."
"I really wish I could kiss you but you have no face..." Sub-Zero said.
"I have another gift to show you..."
"What is it Hanzo?"
Scorpion took a deep breath before taking off his mask to reveal his new face.
"Hanzo... you have a face?" Sub-Zero felt like crying tears of joy.
"Thanks to Ermac."
Sub-Zero went over to Scorpion to hug him, but Sub-Zero got better.
Scorpion pulled Sub-Zero into a passionate kiss. After the kiss broke apart, they went to the bed room to have *the song oo ee oo aaah aaah ting tang walla walla bing bang plays*
THE END | 9ace8fe0ecad46fc857555283bbb177e | ['37416fe1381d4ed9aba93f65ada51931'] | Chores
"Hanzo I'm home from the market."
Sub-Zero walked into the house slowly. When he got inside he saw that the house was a mess.
"HANZO GET DOWN HERE NOW."
Scorpion walks down the stairs. He then stood in front of Sub-Zero sleepily. He yawned and looked at the bags in Sub-Zero's hands.
"Hey Kuai. Back from grocery shopping already?"
"Hanzo, why isn't this place cleaned up?"
"Well I fell asleep while cleaning and I just woke up so..."
"HANZO GO CLEAN THIS PLACE UP NOW!"
"What if I don't want to?"
"Hanzo, you live here also, you have to do your chores."
"No."
"Hanzo. Clean. Now."
"I said NO!"
"HANZO CLEAN THIS PLACE UP NOW!"
"NO."
"HANZO..."
"I SAID NO!"
Scorpion slaps Sub-Zero across the face. He stares, shocked, looking at Sub-Zero, who fell down from the slap.
"Han...Hanzo..."
"Kuai, I'm... I'm sor... sorry."
Scorpion moves towards Sub-Zero, but Sub-Zero moves away from him. Scorpion eyes the red handprint on Sub-Zero's face.
"Kuai... I… I…"
Tears run down Scorpion's face. He couldn't even believe what he just did was real.
"I'M SORRY KUAI."
Sub-Zero looks up at Scorpion. He can see the sorrow in Scorpion's eyes.
"Please forgive me Kuai. I'll clean the house, I'll cut off the hand that hurt you, I'll do anything if you forgive me..."
"Hanzo...it's fine..."
"I'll go clean the house now... later babe."
Scorpion kisses Sub-Zero on his hurt cheek and goes upstairs to clean the house.
Sub-Zero looks around to make sure that Scorpion did go upstairs. He then starts whispering to himself as he puts the groceries away.
"It didn't hurt much, but if all it takes is a slap and fake pain to make Hanzo to do the chores...
I'll get slapped a million times."
**Author's Note:**
> I need a LOT more prompts. |
b93f1c3b076b4bcea75d125a7b7d9e37 | ['37421f89857a49f6a057e843d7061a73'] | By the time the food was ready, Nami and Zoro were both hitting the point of ‘tipsy’ though the amount of empty bottles should had indicated something more along the lines of ‘fucking wasted’. Zoro had shifted to sit in the sand, using the log as a backrest as he drank and watched the crew. Luffy and Usopp were running around near the water’s edge, having given up on getting any of the others to join in on their game of tag. They only returned when Sanji began passing around plates overladen with food.
“It smells so good, Sanji-kun!” Usopp exclaimed as he shoved away his captain to snatch up his plate.
As an added defense, Sanji shoved his sandaled foot into the rubbery face, smearing the elastic skin until the younger pirate was no longer recognizable. Luffy whined unhappily, his hands grabbing at a plate that the cook held aloft. “Stop that, Luffy,” Sanji growled half-heartedly, his bored glare morphing into a pleasant smile as he addressed his long-nose nakama, “It tastes even better.”
“Sanjiiiiiiiii, I’m huuunggrrryyy,” Luffy managed to say through a face full of shoe, his angry expression twisted and deformed. How he could talk with his lips forced to stretch past his ear, the blond would never know.
Sanji’s frown deepened when he felt drool dribbling onto his exposed toes. “I told you to wait your turn,” He replied, clearly annoyed, but his attention was on passing a plate to Chopper who took it with an adorable wiggle. Once the reindeer trotted away, the blond turned his unimpressed stare to Luffy, who looked up at his cook with pleading eyes. “I gave you extra so don’t turn around and ask for seconds right away.” He lowered the plate and his foot, the rubberman springing back to life with a grin.
When Sanji finally approached the drinking duo, Zoro was pleasantly surprised to note that the blond had brought a plate for Nami _and_ a plate for him. The swordsman took it without teasing, a fact he blamed on the alcohol, and balanced it on his knees while Sanji fluttered around the witch with hearts in his eyes. When Nami winked playfully at him, Zoro was sure that the other man would die from happiness.
Shaking his head, Zoro just took another large gulp of sake. This bottle was almost finished but Nami was right behind him. They would both end up wasted by the end of this, not that he minded. Taking a break from the heavy drinking, he took a bite of the cooked meat, not sure what animal it came from, but mentally acknowledging that it tasted delicious, as always.
Zoro’s gaze focused on the bonfire, as he listened to Nami and Robin’s soft chatter, without really processing what they were saying. The background noise of his nakama was relaxing, and one corner of his mouth softly raised in contentment.
As his mind wandered, his eye continued to look into the roaring fire. The flames danced on the crackling wood, casting shadows and light onto the darkening beach. It reminded him of Sanji, and the way he fought with his legs aflame, hellfire brought to life with ease. The image conjured up other thoughts. Thoughts like how hot it had been inside of the blond, or how strong his legs had been as he thrust himself onto Zoro’s cock.
His less than innocent thoughts were interrupted by Sanji blocking his view of the bonfire. The swordsman looked up with a startled glare and was met with an unamused scowl.
“You better wipe that weird look off your face before I think you’re insulting my cooking.”
“Fuck off, prissy cook,” Zoro snapped as he stabbed something on his plate and shoved it into his mouth, chewing like it was a bitter chore.
Sanji grunted and moved away to refill Robin’s drink. Zoro just continued to chew angrily, not happy that his gaze had lingered on the cook’s ass as he left, an ass he very much wanted to see unclothed again. He snatched up his nearly empty bottle of sake and got Nami’s attention with an, “Oi!” Drinking more would definitely fix everything.
\---
The sand was just starting to get hot when Zoro finally awoke. He blinked at the morning sun, annoyed by its brightness. He gave up on catching more sleep and sat up, shaking the sand from his green hair. The sound of various snores surrounded him, blending with the sound of birds and waves crashing.
He looked around and spotted Luffy and Usopp passed out nearby while Franky was a bit further away, his back against a tree, and Chopper on his stomach. A light smile pulled at Zoro’s lips as he turned his attention to the slowly receding tide. The ocean seemed bluer than usual, the sunlight glittering off of the surface, disrupting the cloudless sky’s reflection.
Zoro eventually stood up, stretching away the remaining drowsiness. If he remembered correctly, Nami had beat him in the drinking contest, but since he had not bet any money, the loss did not really cost him anything. So not only was he hangover free, but his debt had not gone up either! Talk about a great way to start the day.
Smirking to himself, Zoro made his way back onto the ship. Brook was heading down at the same time, a cup of tea balanced gingerly in his bony hands. “Good morning, Zoro-san!” The skeleton greeted him, all jovial as usual.
“Morning, Brook,” He grunted back, his tone friendly due to his good mood. | fc54115d359d4f26b8f19f7bc03888b2 | ['37421f89857a49f6a057e843d7061a73'] | With a short gasp, Sanji whipped his head around, his heart racing and eyes wide with shame, shame that quickly turned to irritation. Zoro. Of course it was Zoro. The one who would tease him the most about getting a hard-on from the weather. The swordsman stood in nothing but his pajama pants, face lax from sleep. He did not seem to have noticed Sanji’s intimate moment with the wind, however, a look of confusion flashed in his dark eye when Sanji did not respond right away.
“-- What’s with me?! What’s with YOU, lazy-swordsman?!” Sanji squawked, face blushing with embarrassed rage, “Go eat the food I made you before I kick your ass to the next island!”
“Tch. Whatever, curly,” Zoro yawned, scratching at his neck as he brushed passed Sanji and into the galley.
The brief touch caused all of the blood to drain from Sanji’s face and rush south, much to his horror. He stared wide eyed at the marimo’s retreating back, mind beginning to shut down from the flood of thoughts. But even when the cause of his panic had disappeared, the cook could not get himself to relax.
If Sanji was being honest, it really was not all that surprising that his body had reacted to the greenhaired bastard. Before the crew had been separated for those two years, the two had had a relationship of sorts. It had just been sex, but it had been really, really _ good _ sex. And apparently his body remembered it. The only issue was that neither had attempted to restart the convenient, and pleasurable, partnership. Even now, with his dick standing to attention, Sanji’s pride refused to be the first to ask, especially since he was still recovering from training in okama hell. At least those memories did not give him a hard-on.
He spat out his crushed cigarette and stomped on it, nearly smashing his foot through the deck in the process. His cock had begun to ache again, each throb bringing to mind memories of Zoro’s hands on his body, or _ in _ his body, and the blonde cook found himself fleeing to the bathroom for another much needed cold shower.
\--
The next day passed in the same fashion as the previous eight, and by the time dinner was over and the galley had been cleaned up, Sanji was a horny mess. He was quite proud of himself for keeping it together throughout the meal, and while Usopp had stayed to help with dishes, however, once the sniper had left, Sanji lost his composure. He growled in frustration, gripping the counter in an attempt to hold back a scream. His cock was throbbing, reminding him of his insatiable need, and his pulse could be heard pounding in his head.
His only silver lining had been that the mossy bastard had not shown up to dinner. For some reason, Sanji’s dick was reacting more violently to Zoro than it was reacting to the ladies. This was a realization that Sanji had not really wanted, or needed, and was blatantly ignoring for the time being. Still, Zoro not being at the table, with his drool worthy muscles, and sexy smirk, was acknowledged as a small mercy.
Sanji stared into the now empty sink, head hanging in exhaustion while his body felt like it had ingested an unhealthy amount of caffeine. Another jolt of arousal sang through him and he whimpered to himself. Another icy shower was past due, but before he could gather the mental strength to move, his focus was interrupted by the galley door opening. The cook glanced up, feeling too weary to do more than that, but also not wanting to turn and greet his guest with his half hard dick.
To his horror, his guest was none other than the bastard swordsman himself. Sanji’s eye twitched in anger. _ Why am I not surprised? _ His fists tightened on the sink, the counter creaking under his grip. Lust burned through him as his gaze raced over the other man, taking in every glorious, dick hardening detail.
Naturally, Zoro was shirtless, wearing nothing but his pants, which hung low on his defined hips. He had obviously been working out, his muscles tight from use and shining with drying sweat. His green hair was messy, and Sanji watched as Zoro ran his fingers through the damp locks in an attempt to tame them. The blonde found his mind wandering, imagining himself gripping the green strands and pulling the other man’s mouth to himself so that he could satisfy the need to ravage something completely, and without concern for the consequences.
The single steely eye was watching him, curiosity and mild concern flashing through the seemingly bored gaze, “You’re looking a little crazy, cook. More so than usual. Did you finally crack?”
Sanji looked back at the sink, barely registering the words in his attempt to hold back a moan. The swordsman’s deep voice echoed in his skull, making the near constant throb even more difficult to tolerate. He bit his bottom lip harshly, eyes squeezing shut to try and drown out the muffled rumble of Zoro’s steps, another rhythm for his pulsating cock to cling to and mimic. Part of him just wanted to beg Zoro to take him like he once had, and damn his pride. The only reason he had not given in, and dropped to his knees before the bastard, was because his rage, at the entirety of the situation, was burning as hotly as his lust.
“Are you listening to me, baka?” Zoro asked as he stepped up behind the blonde. The swordsman reached out, grabbing at the other man’s shoulder, but before he could jerk the cook around to face him, Sanji’s control finally snapped. |
0b03f6dcbcd14612b4013cc227418ccf | ['375639f5d87f4fb186e8678ec913df7f'] | “This is Jim,” he said, answering his phone through his ear buds as he slowly opened and closed the separatory funnel. When he didn’t hear anyone on the other end, he pulled his head back out from underneath the hood, “hello?”
“You told me to call you.” He smiled when he recognized the voice.
“That I did.” He took a step back to lean on a parallel bench while he took the phone call. “Took you long enough, I must say.”
“Barely twenty four hours,” Sebastian answered.
“I’m glad you figured it out,” James said. “It didn’t take you very long, I was very pleased.”
“You were quite obvious.”
“I’m not very patient.” He let silence sit over them for a second, “I should be done here in about an hour. Can you meet me?”
“Where?”
“Do you know where Imperial College is?” James didn’t wait for a response, “meet me in from of their biggest building at 10 o’clock.”
By the time James and Sebastian were able to meet it up, and had begun to snow. James was bundled in a long dark jacket and a thick scarf. His pink ears stood out against his dark hair. Sebastian nearly smiled, he looked even smaller with a backpack on him.
James motioned for Sebastian to follow him, “lets get out of snow,” he said. “I live a block away.”
“You go to school here?” Sebastian asked, keeping a pace behind James.
He didn’t answer until he buzzed them into his building and he could take his scarf off. They stepped into the elevator and James said, “yes, I’m a student there.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” With the excitement of Gillis’s assignation a couple of nights behind them, James was less inclined to play coy. This was now a business venture, and he needed to appear as serious as he could seem with a backpack on.
He was on the eighth floor. He led Sebastian into his tiny flat with a flourish, pulling off his long coat and hanging it up. He didn’t offer to take Sebastian’s jacket so Sebastian kept his on.
“You can sit if there’s a space which allows it.” Jim said, disappearing into the kitchen. Sebastian was a bit confused as to why this teenager was allowing a sniper in his apartment. He didn’t follow the boy into the kitchen, nor did he sit down. There wasn’t space for him to. There was paper or a textbook on just about every available surface. There was no television, but instead stacks of books in every corner. The place was a mess, there were full takeaway containers everywhere, and not a single one of them looked even remotely fresh.
“Did you say your name’s Jim?” Sebastian asked, still looking around the flat with a slight tinge of horror. James appeared from the kitchen and leaned against the door jam.
“James,” he corrected. “James Moriarty.” He crossed his arms and looked Sebastian up and down, fully appreciating him. “I was thoroughly impressed by your job the other night.”
“On of the easier shots I’ve taken” Sebastian answered. It was true. James’ job had required virtually no effort on his part. All he had to do was show up with his gun.
“Nevertheless.”
There was silence between them for a few moments before Sebastian said, “why did you bring me up here?”
“To kill you.”
Sebastian tensed immediately even though he knew there was absolutely no way this kid could ever kill him, either by brute force or some sort of tactic.
“Relax,” Jim said, a grin splitting his face. In this light, Sebastian was able to see just how pale the kid actually was. Almost deathly so. “I’m just joking. Veterans,” he fluttered his hand and rolled his eyes, “none of you know how to take a joke.”
Sebastian wanted to pummel the kid. It would be so easy, his neck would snap right in his hand.
“You’re no use to me dead.” Sebastian shoved his hands deep into his pockets, not taking his eyes off James. He was on edge, but concealed it well. “How much do you know about London’s underground crime population?”
“Not much,” Sebastian deadpanned. “I don’t care to do any research.”
“Everyone knows about you. You’ve worked with the best of them.”
“I’ve taken hits from anonymous senders,” Sebastian answered. “I prefer not to work with the same person twice, and I don’t care to know names.”
“Your reputation really precedes you,” James continued as if Sebastian hadn’t spoken. Sebastian noticed that his eyes had sort of glazed over. He was a totally different person than the kid Sebastian had spoken with in the bar a couple of nights ago. “Sebastian Moran. You studied at Eton College and the University of Oxford, which is impressive. You left it behind, however, to serve your country. Valiant, if I do say so. Afghanistan wasn’t difficult for you, though, until you were dishonorably discharged, of course.” Sebastian clenched his jaw while listening to James talk about him. Recite whatever he had read in a file that had somehow been compiled about him. “How did you get that scar?”
“A tiger.” Sebastian answered evenly, “I hunt for sport.”
“You’re very well rounded,” James commented, eyes glistening mischievously. “Can I offer you a beer? Some tea, perhaps?”
“Why am I here?” Sebastian nearly snapped, but managed to keep his cool. “I don’t play games, certainly not with teenagers.”
James took a few steps forward, crowding into Sebastian’s personal space. Sebastian didn’t move, his eyes followed the boy closely. “Don’t let my age fool you,” James hissed. “I’m lethal. I know how to poison you seven ways to Sunday.”
“Not very intimidating when the man you’re threatening is twice your size with experience in hand to hand combat.” Sebastian looked down at James, “I can shoot you from hundreds of feet away. Watch who you’re playing with.”
James snarled but took a step back. “You shot my boss.” | cdc53dbede454dee8072be241ce0e212 | ['375639f5d87f4fb186e8678ec913df7f'] | “Clever.” Sebastian nodded, “though it didn’t take me long to come into contact with your alias. You need to make cleaner cuts between your identities.”
“You’re here to critique my skills in lying, then?’ Jim asked, pulling off his latex gloves before removing his goggles. Sebastian nearly laughed, the goggles had left a comically red line around the boys eyes.
“Well, I’m certainly not going to work for someone who’s careless.”
“Good decision,” James murmured, the beginning of a smile on his face. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come around. And I really hate getting my hands dirty.”
Sebastian shook his head, “now that, I highly doubt.”
James approached Sebastian slowly, chucking his rubber gloves in the bin as he went.
“I’m impressed with your slight detective work to find me here,” James admitted.
“I’m more than just a pretty face behind the trigger.”
“Oh, my dear, you are not very pretty.”
They stared at each other for a moment, after James’ bold face lie. Sebastian was actually very pretty. Despite all he’d been through, he didn't look a day over 25. The scar on his face was enticing, but certainly not off putting. Not to James, anyway. He liked Sebastian’s blue eyes and his sandy blond hair. He liked the way he kept it cut, long at the top and shorter on the sides. Putting it plainly, James thought Sebastian was very good looking.
“Then why are you checking me out?” Sebastian retorted, breaking Jame’s train of thought.
“Don’t get an ego,” James snapped. “I’m 19, full of hormones. I’d check out a lamp post if it had a nice curve.”
“Well, if that’s your type.”
“We’ll be getting along just fine” James answered. “I have some paperwork you’ll need to sign.”
4. Chapter 4
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> i'm going to trigger warn for *slight* violence--i don't like to write anything too gore-y but obviously there's going to be some sniping involved. also, Jim is pretty mentally ill, so there will be mention of OCD tendencies, mood swings, self harm, and shitty eating habits. if that stuff triggers you, please don't read!
James did not sleep, and now that he had someone to bother with his often ridiculous and monuments plans, he took advantage of it.
3:08 AM
Did you get my email?
JM
Are you asleep?
JM
Wake the fuck up.
JM
Bugger off, it’s three in the morning.
SM
Read the email.
JM
3:47 AM
For christ sakes, the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.
SM
Stop sending me novels and get some sleep.
SM
What was potentially even more ridiculous than how quickly James took to sharing all of his ideas with Sebastian, was how quickly Sebastian took on the role of protecting James. He had signed a contract stating he would, but he frequently went above and beyond his simple body guard duties. His job was to merely be present in all business dealings, take all security measures, and shoot people when he was asked. What he truly hadn’t realized was how incapable James was at being a human being.
A month into their arrangement, Sebastian had his first day off. Sebastian was obligated to work for thirty days in a row. This wasn’t very grueling on him, considering that when James was in class, or in the lab, all he had to do was stay in the general vicinity. He found himself sitting in a lot of coffee shops on his laptop. He did quite a bit of research, as James had allocated some of the easier research topics to Sebastian to keep him busy. Frankly, he enjoyed just doing something consistently. At five o’clock, he got to go home but was considered “on call” 24 hours.
James wasn’t that well known, yet. He was not in need of twenty four hour security, nor did he want someone hanging around him for twenty four hours.
Regardless, they spent some time together every day for thirty days straight. On Sebastian’s first day off, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He got up at his usual time, went on his usual run, and then sat in his tiny sitting room for a few hours to read.
It would just so happen that it was on his first day off that there was the first “security breech”.
Whether this person had been watching James and Sebastian, taking note of their extreme consistency in the schedule, or had just decided on that day at random, was never figured out. The bloke didn’t live long enough for either James and Sebastian to ask.
Three hours into his day off, which happened to fall on a Sunday, he got a nonsensical text from James. It was a series of letters and numbers that made absolutely no sense, which was why it alarmed Sebastian. He’d never even seen James make a simple typo in his text messages and emails, let alone a message that was complete nonsense.
It took Sebastian 37 minutes to get from Harrow to where James lived in London if he was abiding by road laws. It took him 28 minutes when he weaved through traffic.
Sebastian remembered the first time he killed a man with his bare hands because it was completely on accident. He was in Iraq, aiming his gun out the window of an abandoned building. Someone had crept up behind him. The man was wearing a scarf that covered everything but his eyes and the top of his head. It was his sandals that gave him away, though. He scuffed the floor just barely, on one step. The man probably would have got away with killing Sebastian if he hadn’t been wearing sandals. |
1469dd67c20e452a9eda7b9930d99e4e | ['379dc3984cfa46ca9d13415572be027e'] |
Deep underwater
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is my entry for the Daredevil bingo "hiding an injury/illness" square.
Foggy had thought that things would get better once the dust from Fisk had settled. Things were great with Marci, even if he hadn't yet summoned the courage to propose again. Theo was handling the shop just fine by himself. Nelson, Murdock & Page had a strong start, and their friendship was slowly healing itself back to normalcy. It was everything he'd dreamed of and wanted since their fallout, and yet nothing had improved for Foggy. No… if anything things were worse now that he didn't have Fisk to distract him.
Instead of stopping, his nightmares and anxiety had doubled since Fisk went back to jail. It didn't matter that Matt was back. He no longer dreamed of rubble and bodies too disfigured to identify. His nightmares now had voices and faces that haunted Foggy for hours after they were gone. They were more personal and violent, taking not after the what-ifs and maybes but using memories that were better off forgotten.
Foggy was tired.
He was reaching rock bottom, and he didn't know how to swim back to the surface.
Another person could've asked for help, but that was never an option for Foggy. His problems were rooted in things he couldn't share. He could never explain the whats and whys of his nightmares without betraying Matt's secret. His trust. His safety. Foggy would never do that to him, but that meant there were only two people with whom he could share his problem.
Matt and Karen.
The idea of asking either of them for help made him sick for very different reasons.
Matt had enough drama in his life already. Not to mention that he would blame himself for Foggy's trauma. Foggy didn't want to make things harder for Matt. Especially not when he still had shadows under his eyes, and looked uncertain of where he fit with everything and everyone.
Karen was a completely different situation. She was, in Foggy's mind, more approachable and more likely to be of help. She'd lived through so much horror, more than Foggy might ever will, and she still came out on top of it. Foggy admired her iron will, but it made him feel weak in comparison. If Karen could make it out sane after her brother's death, Wesley's kidnapping, and the church attack, then he could deal with his nightmares.
Except he couldn't.
And that was the problem. He was ashamed that he couldn't be as strong as Matt and Karen.
\--
Foggy woke up in a jolt, sitting upright at once. His eyes wide open in the dark, and breathing hard enough to make his chest hurt. He was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. A shiver ran through his spine and he rubbed his face, as if that would get rid of the images.
Marci shifted at his side. Her eyes found his silhouette in the dark, and she blinked confused. "Foggy Bear?" she asked in a sleep laced voice.
Foggy swallowed and removed his hands from his face. He did his best to give her a smile, and rubbed her arm softly. "Sorry, babe. Go back to sleep."
Of course Marci didn't listen, instead she turned to her side and gave him a worried look. "Was it another nightmare?"
There was a lie on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. He felt guilty enough about the lies he HAD to tell her that he didn't want to lie about what he didn't have to. He nodded reluctantly.
"What was it about?"
He shrugged, and the lie left his mouth easily this time. "I don't remember."
He did remember the dream. How couldn't him? The image of Matt being beaten to a pulp by the fake Daredevil was too much to forget. But as usual, he couldn't explain to her the significance of those dreams. It was better this way.
She ran a careful hand through his sweaty hair. "You really need to see someone. This isn't healthy, Franklin."
"It's just the stress. I'll be fine once we settle into the new office," he lied, and kissed her forehead. "Go back to sleep. I'll get a glass of water and join you soon."
He knew she didn't believe him by the way her lips pressed together and her eyebrows creased. And just like usual, she let him be, choosing to lay back down to rest. She was right, this wasn't healthy. And he didn't just mean his problem. Lies were what had ripped apart his small family during Frank's trial. How long could he afford to lie the same way to Marci before they too were torn by it?
But the sad truth was that between keeping Matt safe and being with Marci, as much as he loved her, he would always choose Matt's safety.
\--
"Morning, sunshine," Karen said cheerfully, pressing a warm cup against his cheek. Foggy blinked tiredly and groaned when he sat upright. He'd come early to the office, not quite able to go back to sleep after his nightmare. "Rough night?"
"Something like that," he replied, accepting the cup. He took his time to smell the coffee before sipping it. "Hmmm, I love when you buy coffee." He smiled against the cup. "So much better than when you make it."
"Careful Nelson, you're this close to dropping from the coffee list," Karen said, giving him a playful glare. "And I don't hear Matt complaining about it."
Foggy had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying the first thing that came to his mind. He was ninety percent sure Matt only drank Karen's coffee because he was afraid to tell her how bad it was. The guy did have a thing for martyrdom, and a lot more to lose than Foggy. "Matt just doesn't appreciate good coffee." | b09ca0c2ce124701aaac43ff1148d59d | ['379dc3984cfa46ca9d13415572be027e'] | Matt accepted the toy as he rocked the crying Lucas with one arm. “It's alright.”
Three more babies had started crying because of Lucas and, the now crying, Josh. Lucas got louder as he grabbed both of his ears in clear pain. Matt packed his things as quickly as possible, muttered a “excuse me” and made his way to the restroom.
“Come on Luc. Concentrate on daddy's heartbeat.” He tried to get the baby to rest his head against his chest, but Lucas pushed at him and rubbed his face roughly.
Matt groaned. He'd forgotten about his cotton shirt. Lucas wasn’t used to common cotton, anything below luxurious soft clothes irritated him. But dressing in silk or expensive high quality cotton only wasn’t an option. Unbuttoning the top of his shirt did the trick. Lucas crying slowly ceased and a small thumb found its way to his mouth.
“That could have gone better.” He laughed against his son's hair.
It could have also gone a lot worse.
* * *
Matt's phone chirped Karen's name a few minutes after they'd left the doctor's office. He reached for the phone inside his pocket and Lucas’ eyes followed the movement curiously.
“Hey Karen.” he answered moving to the side where no one would run into him.
“Hi love.”
“Na-na-na-na-na.” Matt smiled down at Lucas, who continued babbling happily. His mood was better now that they were outside.
“Is that Lucas?” There was a smile in her voice.
“Yeah, he's happy to hear you.”
“How is he? What did the doctor say?”
“He's feeling better, and it's not the flu. He should be fine in a couple of days.”
Karen sighed in relief. “That's great. Are you on the way home then?”
“We are.” He confirmed. “But I’ll stop by the church first.”
“Oh, that's-” Foggy called Karen on the background. “I have to go. Kiss Luc and say hi to Maggie for me. Oh, and Matt, don't pick any dinner. I'm cooking tonight.”
Karen had taken to cooking after they got pregnant. At first Matt thought it was just another stage, but after two months of homemade dinner he’d finally asked her about it. Her answer had melted and broken his heart simultaneously. She’d, reluctantly, admitted that she wanted their child to enjoy her cooking as much as she'd enjoyed her mom's.
He understood why she hesitated to tell him, given his childhood, but he would never have a problem with her giving their child what he hadn't had. No, he'd loved her more for that. In the end he ended up sharing a few of the Murdocks' recipes with her.
That's how she discovered his ultimate weakness, the family's stew.
“Hm, is it stew?”
She chuckled. “I’ll see you tonight.”
He must have looked like a fool standing on the sidewalk smiling from ear to ear with a gurgling baby strapped to his chest.
If only Stick could see him now.
He would probably call him a pussy for getting domesticated and perhaps give him some of his fortune cookie wisdom. That or he would be talking him into letting him train Lucas. Matt never knew with Stick.
“As much as I miss the bastard, I'm glad you won't get to meet him.” Lucas looked up at his father.
“Na-na-na-na.”
He kissed the boy's hair. “Not yet, we're visiting grandma.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Matt was really hard to write here. I wanted to show not his struggle as a blind parent, because he really isn't, but as someone that had to unwillingly hide. It was fun torturing him a little. In my defense, I imagined him eye rolling throughout the whole incident.
>
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. They made my day.
>
> Next and last for the "sick Lucas arc" will be Maggie's visit. That will be a longer and darker chapter, but not too dark as to need warnings.
3. III. Maggie
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Maggie, Matthew and Lucas get to share a moment together.
III. Maggie
An unexpected bright side to Lucas’ cold was his reduced sense of smell. As overwhelming as the noises could be, they were easy to manage through isolation and distraction. Smells weren’t so easy to control. Learning what triggered Lucas had been hard, and it’d affected every aspect of their lives, from the detergents they used to food they ate.
For Karen it meant not being able to make coffee at home.
For Matt it meant he couldn't take his son to church.
Lucas couldn't stand the smell of incenses and dust. He would start sneezing about a block away, and then would quickly go from irritated to a sobbing mess by the time they reached the front door. When they crossed the one block mark without as much as a sneeze, Matt knew the day for Lucas to see the church had come.
Matt crossed himself the moment they stepped inside and said a quick prayer in thanks.
Lucas eyes roamed the new space in awe. He babbled excited and tried to reach for the stained glass windows with his small hands.
“Pretty isn't it?” He asked Lucas and moved closer to the altar. Lucas answered with a high-pitched squeal that made his father smile.
Not for the first time Matt wondered what Lucas saw.
He had no idea how the world would look if he had his sight. Perhaps Lucas saw a world on fire too, just with and extra layers of lights and colors. Or perhaps he saw something different altogether. Lucas had passed all his visual test with flying colors, but that told them very little of what he actually saw.
At least Matt had experienced what everybody's else saw, but Lucas’ world would probably always be a mystery to him.
“Matthew?” his mother asked from his right, surprised clear in her voice.
“Good afternoon, sister.” He greeted, turning to face her. |
615726d2d26344f38503f072f669c4ee | ['37d0f0a9518e4f5b9c403e2a6f130e3e'] |
Affection
_Ladybug and Chat Noir had two very different ways of expressing themselves. Adrien knew this, but it still stung a little every time Ladybug laughed off his compliments or rolled her eyes at his names of endearment._
_Most of the time, girls were falling over themselves to get so much as a glance thrown their way. He’d seen Chloe push a girl to the ground for blocking her view at a photoshoot._
_It wasn’t that he wanted Ladybug to act like that, but…it still bruised his pride a little. And it led to dangerous questions._
_Questions like: Why wasn’t he good enough for Ladybug? Why wasn’t his best ever good enough?_
_What was wrong with him?_
—
“No puns tonight, Chat?” She asked one evening after watching a freshly purified akuma fly off. “You seem very quiet.”
He shrugged. “There wasn’t much for me to do this time, you seemed to have everything under control.” His green eyes grew sly. “ _Purr_ -fectly in control, in fact.”
She groaned, but couldn’t hide her smile.
He loved making her smile.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied, “But it is nice not to have to dash off after everything is said and done.” She hadn’t needed her lucky charm and he’d barely done anything but watch, let alone use his cataclysm.
He grinned, his white teeth bright in the moonlight, and draped an arm around her shoulders. “If you wanted to spend more time with me, all you ever had to do was ask, my lady.”
She easily ducked out of his hold with a short laugh, and began stretching out the tight muscle in her right arm. Swinging around so much had really put a strain on it.
Normally she wouldn’t notice the slight droop in Chat’s shoulders after he teased her like this. Normally, they’d be moving too fast or be too distracted to spare a moment for anything but the akuma. Normally, Chat was quick to flirt and she was quick with a retort and they’d slip back into the rhythm of battle.
Tonight was not normal.
Tonight, she noticed.
“Chat?” She stopped her stretching and turned to face him directly. “Something’s wrong. Please tell me.”
Shaking his head, he turned away from her. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Too late, I’m already worried.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. He slowly turned back toward her. She didn’t remove he hand.
He didn’t know what to say to her. Whenever he tried to put what he was feeling into words, he felt childish and vulnerable - two things he didn’t exactly want Ladybug to think about him. _Why don’t you like me? Everyone else loves Chat Noir, why can’t you? Why don’t you, the one who knows me better than any of them, love me?_
Dangerous.
“It’s really nothing,” he tried again, offering a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’re partners,” she insisted. “It will never be nothing. If something is upsetting you, it’s upsetting me, too.”
He paused. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do!” Now she moved her hand from his shoulder to grasp his hands. Her hands were so much smaller than his and yet he felt like she held his entire being when she wrapped her hands around his. “I care about you. I want you to be happy.”
“You care about me?”
She hesitated. She’d been about to roll her eyes and tell him “of course!” again, but something in his voice stopped her. Her affection for him had been obvious to her. He made her laugh, and he was a strong, intelligent fighter. She couldn’t imagine being Ladybug without him.
Maybe it hadn’t been so obvious to him.
She dropped his hands and reached up to cup his face so he couldn’t avoid her gaze. For a moment, she wished she was taller so she could look him straight in the eyes, but a slight angle would have to do.
“I almost wish I knew your real name so you knew how sincere I’m being here,” she tried to joke to lighten the mood, but that didn’t seem to be the right thing to say. Something clouded over in his eyes. “But that doesn’t really matter. I don’t need to know your name to know you’re the most loyal cat in existence.” She did a small smile out of that. “I know I need you by my side, and I know I would miss you if you ever went away. I worry about you when I’m not there to help protect you. If that’s not caring about you, then I don’t know what is.”
He felt warm all over. A bit foolish, but that didn’t matter so much. This warmth was what he’d been looking for. The kind you felt begin in your chest and slowly spread through your veins until it glowed with a steady heat in your fingertips and toes.
He pulled her hands away from his face and pressed his forehead to hers, never breaking eye contact. Her blue eyes were so clear, he almost thought she could see through the black mask he wore.
“And I thought I was supposed to be unlucky,” he whispered, his breath brushing against her skin.
The corners of her lips turned up. “You are. But I have enough luck for the both of us.”
This time when his shoulders lowered, it was in relief as he enveloped her in a soft hug. Sensing his vulnerability, she let him hold her as long as needed. Just for tonight.
—
_Adrien was a quick learner, and after that, had no problem spotting her particular brand of affection. It came in the form of comfortable, casual touches, of making sure he took care of himself, of risking her own safety for him without a second thought._
_It was quiet, and hard to miss at times, but that made it more valuable when he did see it, especially when others couldn’t._
_And honestly? He loved her all the more for it._
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this for ML Week over on tumblr, so you can see this on my blog there, too.
>
> http://USER.tumblr.com/post/133783141232/ml-week-affection | 3223c72d3265406a889ad5701da7de6e | ['37d0f0a9518e4f5b9c403e2a6f130e3e'] | His ears twitched. “Well kid, you may get your wish. Turn on the news.”
Adrien was quick to obey, and it seemed fate had a funny way of answering his wish. Five minutes later he was at Ladybug’s side.
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one have bad luck with my Christmas shopping,” she said as she took in the scene before her.
It appeared that a young man’s card had been declined, despite his insistence it was still good, which meant he couldn’t buy his presents. From the sound of his lamentations, this was not the first wrench thrown into his holiday plans.
Regardless, they made quick work of the akuma, falling into their familiar partnership and Ladybug purified the evil butterfly.
“Nice job,” she said as she tapped her knuckles to his in the familiar gesture. “Sorry I’ve got to run, but shopping calls. You need to run, too, from the look of it.” She pointed to his blinking ring, then dashed off, leaving poor Chat Noir a bit breathless at the speed of her departure.
Maybe fate wasn’t on his side after all.
Adrien felt sick to his stomach as he landed on Marinette’s rooftop later that night, recharged and dressed as Chat Noir. He’d returned home, fed Plagg, and paced all evening waiting impatiently for night to fall. He had no idea how she was going to react, and even worse, he didn’t know how he wanted her to react.
Would she be mad at him for keeping a secret? But they weren’t exactly close, she barely spoke to him. She couldn’t expect him to tell her all his secrets, especially when one of them included being a hero of Paris.
Would she laugh at him? He was so much more flirtatious as Chat Noir. What if she could never take him seriously again?
Would stop talking to him altogether? She acted so strangely around him when he was Adrien. He liked how relaxed she became around Chat Noir. She trusted him. Had he broken that trust?
She would never betray him, at least he could be confidant in that. She was extremely loyal to her friends, and he’d always admired her fierce determination to bring justice to wronged classmates.
He groaned.
“I need to get this over with before I have a nervous breakdown,” he mumbled to himself.
He crouched in the darkness until Marinette’s bedroom light flickered on. This was it.
He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.
He knocked on her skylight.
He heard her gasp, then her face came into view.
“Chat Noir?” Her voice was muted through the glass.
What was Chat Noir doing visiting her? They’d defeated the akuma without a problem, but she was tired, a little sore, and had Christmas presents to finish sewing. She’d finally found an appropriate string of silver journalist charms that she needed to add to Alya’s bag
She pushed the skylight open. “Is everything okay?” She couldn’t read his expression, and his cheeks were pink from the cold. “Do you, um, do you want to come in? It’s cold out.”
Chat blinked, then nodded sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled and gracefully leapt down. “I just needed to talk to you.”
“Talk to me? Chat, is something wrong?”
He had the strangest look on his face. Like he didn’t understand her confusion. Like she was the one who suddenly showed up in his room at midnight with no explanation.
“You don’t need to call me Chat when we’re alone.”
“What? What else would I call you?”
“You don’t need to pretend, Marinette. I got your text earlier today.”
“Text? I didn’t send you a text?”
He frowned. “I promise you that you did. I can’t carry my phone with me like this or I’d show you.”
She shook her head as she fetched her phone from her purse. “I don’t even have your number. The only people I texted today were my parents and Alya,” she said as she opened her messages and started scrolling through them to prove it to him. “See? My mom asking when I was going to be home…my dad reminding me that I have to work in the morning and making sure I wasn’t hurt in the akuma attack downtown…and me sending this silly picture to Al- oh.”
“Oh?”
“Oh. Oh no.”
“Oh no?”
“Oh no no no no.”
“Marinette, please!”
“No no no no no no. I sent that picture to Adrien by accident.”
Chat Noir stood very still. “It was an accident?”
“Of course! Why would I be sending Adrien Agreste cat pictures?? And why would think I was texting you? Adrien must think I’m some kind of idiot!”
“Wait, so you don’t-” Chat cut himself off.
“No no no no,” she continued to chant to herself. “I need to text him again to tell him it was a mistake! Chat, what do I say to him?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes! Please! He never even responded!”
“Maybe…he didn’t read it yet?” Chat said slowly, uncertainly. “I imagine Adrien Agreste would have a busy schedule? Maybe just tell him it was an accident?”
“Oh! Of course!” She quickly tapped out another message, muttering to herself as she typed: _Sorry, I meant to send that to Alya! Because of the glasses! And her cat-like curiosity! Have a good night! I’ll see you in class on Monday!_
She hit Send and flopped onto her chaise, her phone clattering to the floor. She let out a loud sigh. “I don’t know if that was much better. It’s probably too late to try steal his phone and erase the messages, huh?”
Chat stared at her with a blank expression.
“Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know.” She sighed again. “Sorry, what did you come over for again?”
He shook his head and headed back to the skylight. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing after all. Good luck with, uh, Adrien.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks, Chaton.”
“M-my pleasure,” he stammered and slipped outside before Marinette thought to ask how exactly he knew what texts Adrien received… |
a4b15fadea5c40d99027c292c2f4dd51 | ['37db57b06445442985cb97d8f818d582'] | Not that she is old, but she is much more mature than before and she’s no longer that silly girl. John was happy to witness her personal maturation and see her becoming the perfect woman for him.
The good thing about having a good memory is that he always remembers the important dates, such as the wedding anniversary. Then he tells her how he remembers the clothes she was wearing, what they talked about and what they had for dinner the night he asked her to marry him.
Because he is surprisingly very good at remembering small details.
9. Lesson #9: He no longer has his Time Lord’s palate
Rose learned to cook and she cooks well. The problem is that John can no longer identify all the ingredients as before.
“This is very good! What's in it?” John asked her over dinner.
“A secret ingredient.”
“And which one is it?”
“I can’t say. It's secret!”
“If I were still a Time Lord, there would not be such a secret in your cooking.”
“So you do not have your powerful palate anymore...” Rose said with narrowed eyes. She had some plan in her head. John immediately regretted letting her know of his weakness. “That'll be interesting!” She said.
Or maybe he has positive points in not having his Time Lord’s palate any longer. After all, it can be fun to try to guess Rose's secret ingredients.
10. Lesson #10: When John loves, he loves with everything he has
And in every possible way. Be it verbal, physical or emotional he always leaves traces of his love in every hour of each day. He always finds ways to demonstrate it. He doesn’t need to say words to express his deepest feelings.
John once said that loving is trusting someone by heart. That’s why his past does not disturb him anymore, let alone Rose. Together they have learned to overcome challenges and to do small actions that mark their lives.
Every minute of every day is an opportunity to think of something to deserve the love of the other. Either John is getting very emotional or he is realizing just how much Rose is worth, because as life goes on shorter John is getting happier.
After all, when John loves he loves with everything he has.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Finally complete!
**Author's Note:**
> Also read: 10 Things John Smith Has Learned About Rose Tyler. | 1e20a8e9cbb24e0081e4cdc44a2af087 | ['37db57b06445442985cb97d8f818d582'] |
1. Lesson #1: She hates when her name is a reference to the flower
**Author's Note:**
> English is not my first language. All mistakes are mine.
Because there is nothing more stupid than receiving a rose just because your name is Rose. In fact, she does not even like roses. Rose told John that she dismissed several wooers during her teenager years because they came with a rose to present her. The boys were so silly!
John wondered how many of these wooers were and almost asked her about it. He decided not to ask and was pleased that she had dismissed them. It was not cool to be jealous of boys he didn’t even know.
John realized that Rose always thanked him with a wonderfully sweet kiss when he gave her flowers – not roses of course. Well, as long as they aren't roses, John wins.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Also read: 10 Things Rose Tyler Has Learned About John Smith.
2. Lesson #2: She sings in the shower
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Happy Valentine's Day!!!
Once he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. It was not any noise, not even strange. It was a sound, the sound of a melody. John recognized Rose's beautiful voice as she showered to go to work.
He approached the bathroom door and listened attentively, contending himself not to open the door and just get in there. The song that Rose was singing was "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and he remembered that she listened to that song in Elvis Presley's version.
John decided to make a surprise. He arrived earlier from work and prepared a wonderful dinner. Does she like more? Wine or champagne?
When Rose arrived, she thought her senses were crazy. She felt an appetizing smell in the air and listened to the song she was just singing in that morning, and the voice of Elvis Presley! Well, actually it came from the speaker that John turned on but she was not expecting such a treatment.
Rose started to sing in the shower every morning.
3. Lesson #3: She is unable to paint her toenails
Rose knows how to paint nails. She has all the patience of the world and creativity, as long as they are the nails of the hands. Sometimes John watches her from the bedroom door while she sits on their bed trying to paint her toenails.
When she paints her fingernails, she is multitasking. She can paint and type on the tablet at the same time. When it comes to the toenails, it needs all concentration like never before. She concentrates as much as he does when analyzing alien equipment.
John just watches her from a distance, watching her concentrating and speaking some curses as she smudges the corner of her toenail.
She is unable to paint her toenails.
4. Lesson #4: Rose hates staying in the office as much as he does
Rose has one of the highest positions in Torchwood. Of course, she's the director's daughter, Pete Tyler. But Rose only got the job in Torchwood to find the way back to her original world and to the Doctor (especially to the Doctor). Well, she was able to get him back and stay with the Doctor/John, so she did not need Torchwood anymore, right? Wrong! They needed jobs. John works in the lab and Rose... in an office.
What saves Rose's day is to go on a field mission. From time to time, they are grateful that they have to investigate cases of alien attack somewhere. Did she learn this from him and cannot stand in a room anymore? Does she have to run around after aliens like him?
Anyway, staying in a room filling paperwork lets her stressed out, but so would he. So John knows when she needs a little more attention.
5. Lesson #5: She loves to bet with him
He had known that since when they had been traveling together in the TARDIS. But she never let him to forget (or let him to pretend that he forgot) all the bets, especially when he lost them. Okay, he lost almost every time.
John had to admit that he also loves betting with Rose, even knowing he would lose, just to have the pleasure of listening to her charging him.
"You still owe me 10 pounds."
Then he asks, "What happened to 'what's mine is yours, huh?'
"Exactly! Your 10 pounds are mine. "
She always responds with her tongue between her teeth.
6. Lesson #6: She pretends understanding everything he says
And she thinks he does not know! But John knows very well that she can’t understand all the conversations they have. When he talks about new alien equipment tendencies or speaks about the differences between cultures of mankind and another species that Rose has never heard of, she simply nods and agrees with everything he says.
John doesn’t care if whether or not she understands his words because what matters is if she understands his feelings and… oh!, that she does very well. Maybe Rose is the only person in this parallel world who understands him, but he doesn’t know if it is a coincidence since both of them are not from this Universe. Probably because Rose is Rose and there is not another one.
Even if she pretends understanding everything he says.
7. Lesson #7: Rose told all the TARDIS adventures to Tony
John discovered unintentionally. It was on a night when he put Tony in bed. Jackie and Pete were traveling, so he and Rose were taking care of Tony. Rose was very tired after work and John volunteered to help Tony sleeping.
Tony announced that he would only sleep after hearing a story, so John searched for a book but Tony muttered something about 'telling the werewolf story again'.
"What werewolf?" John asked.
"That werewolf you and ‘Ose had to fight."
"Did she tell you about it?"
"I know everything." |
33e630c9d4be422cabcba26657942ae9 | ['37decea99eb54bc0a409afaf8d686652'] | He was assigned to kill Seungho because the alpha was apparently dangerous and one of the greatest threats to humanity. After the hybrids, Alpha Kim was the most feared by hunters, even though he was very much harmless unless his pack's safety was threatened. So when Hoseok finally met Seungho, he realised that his life was full of lies because Kim Seungho was more human than an actual human. He was the most compassionate and tenderhearted man Hoseok had ever met.
Hoseok couldn't withdraw himself from the mission but he made an oath to himself to protect Seungho and the pack. He kept the alpha updated with the hunters' plans and he tried everything he could to make sure the hunters never got to the werewolves. However, one day, the lead hunters of the mission had a plan of their own and captured Seungho's wife, Jihyun, without informing the other hunters.
When Hoseok found out about Jihyun's death, he was devastated. He blamed himself even though it wasn't his fault. There was literally nothing he could do because he didn't know about the hunters' plan, but he still felt responsible for it. He couldn't live with the thought that he failed his friend so he said goodbye to his hunter life and left town. He still stayed in touch with Seungho as they were good friends but they lost contact a few years ago. So when Hoseok got a phone call from Seokjin and found out that Seungho died, he broke down. It hurts him to know that Seungho is gone but he will protect the last of his friend's pack no matter what.
"I've missed you guys so much," Hoseok says, holding the two tightly.
"We've missed you too, hyung."
They hold each other for a little longer before they reluctantly pull away.
"Do you want to eat first or unpack? It's up to you," Hoseok says.
Seokjin and Jimin exchange a glance before both decide on having dinner first. They had some snacks and stuff when they made pit stops but they haven't had a proper meal in _days_. They're quite hungry now that they think about it.
"Come on. Lets eat," Hoseok says and leads the way into the kitchen.
The four sit around at the dining table and eat the kimchi fried rice that Hoseok made specially for Seokjin and Jimin. They make conversation over dinner and thankfully, no one mentions Seungho and the rest of the pack's death. It's still a sensitive topic and it's not something they'd like to talk about over food.
After dinner, Hoseok shows the cousins to the guest bedroom while Namjoon cleans up. Since the boys are exhausted from travelling so much, Hoseok decides to give them some space. He wishes them a good night before he leaves the room, closing the door on his way out.
Seokjin gets everything unpacked and sorted while Jimin's in the shower. After Jimin, it's Seokjin's turn to freshen up. He scrubs his body well to properly cleanse himself and he applies a decent amount of shampoo to his hair since he could only wash it with water. Once he's done, he dries himself and slips on his only pair of pyjamas before he brushes his teeth. He then heads back into the bedroom.
"Hyung, I'm tired. Can we sleep now?" Jimin asks, laying on the bed.
"How are you still tired? You were sleeping the whole time on the bus," Seokjin teases his cousin.
"Exactly! On the bus! _Not_ on a bed."
Seokjin rolls his eyes and gets in bed with Jimin. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Jimin pulls the covers over his and Seokjin's bodies before he shuffles close to his older cousin so that there's no space between them. He rests his head on Seokjin's chest and puts an arm around his cousin's small waist.
Seokjin sighs softly and turns to his side to face Jimin before putting his arms around the younger's smaller body. He closes his eyes and the two cousins lay there in a peaceful silence. Jimin is quick to fall asleep and Seokjin follows not long after.
After a good night's sleep, Seokjin wakes up beside Jimin. They have their arms around each other, as if protecting each other from harm, and Seokjin slowly untangles his body from Jimin's. A smile forms on his lips at the sight of his cousin sleeping peacefully and he kisses the young boy on the cheek. However, that smile disappears when he remembers his plan.
He slowly gets out of bed and freshens up in the bathroom. Once he's done, he takes his toothbrush, towel, clothes, and bag into the shed outside. Aside from the clothes he's wearing right now, these are his remaining belongings. But he can't leave any traces of his scent here, so he burns his items and watches as they turn into ash.
"I have a feeling I know what you're up to," Hoseok speaks from the doorway.
Seokjin presses his lips into a thin line as he cleans up his mess. Once he's done, he wipes his hands on his trousers. He then walks towards the door to leave the shed but Hoseok blocks his path.
"This isn't right," Hoseok tries to talk Seokjin out of whatever he has planned. "You're only going to get yourself killed."
"I know what I'm doing, hyung. You don't need to worry about me," Seokjin _tries to_ assure Hoseok.
"How can I not worry about you?! Your appa didn't die for you to follow right after him," Hoseok argues, his eyes watering. "Stay with us, Jin. You're safe here. Please let me protect you."
Seokjin's own eyes water at the mention of his deceased father but he blinks back the tears.
"I'm not going to keep running. I can't just sit around doing nothing while knowing that appa and the rest of my pack died because of me," Seokjin says, his voice cracking in the end. | 6d00e6fff57b4a908ae79faf8df08aa5 | ['37decea99eb54bc0a409afaf8d686652'] | He locks the door and walks over to his chair that he has placed a few metres in front of the cage. He then picks up the book that's on the seat and sits down. He brought a novel with him just in case this will take longer than he expects. He could simply leave the beta in here but he can't risk a feral werewolf accidentally opening the furnace and releasing the traitors.
Jungkook just sits there and reads the book for a few minutes until he hears a bone snapping followed by a painful howl. His gaze shifts from the page to the beta and he notices the beta's eyes glowing their golden colour before the claws and fangs appear as more bones continue to break. Not long after, Seokjin transforms into the predatory version of his wolf as he releases bestial sounds and attempts to break through the chains. When his eyes meet those of his father's killer, his aggression only intensifies and it gives him more strength.
The wolf growls, the chains rattling as he attempts to break out. Jungkook's eyebrows arch upwards and he watches the inhuman creature with fascination. He has been surrounded by werewolves most of his life but they always made him stay away during the full moon because they were afraid of hurting him. This is the closest he has been to a feral werewolf.
After a lot of struggling, the beta manages to break out of the chains. Jungkook won't lie and say he's shocked because he saw this coming. Seokjin is already strong as a mere werewolf, so he'd be even stronger when he's experiencing symptoms of the full moon. If he became a hybrid, he might even be as powerful as Jungkook.
Instead of doing what any other person would do and run away, Jungkook does what only _he_ would do: he opens the cage and lets the beast out.
( **cue in let out the beast by exo lol** )
Over an hour passes by and the basement door finally creaks open. A lot of the hybrids have been roaming around near the door out of worry for their alpha. They heard the bestial growls, bones cracking, and slashing. And they most definitely smelt a lot of blood. They can't tell who it belongs to but they're hoping it's not their alpha's.
"Kook?" Taehyung says, hurt and horrified by his friend's appearance.
Out comes a shirtless and beaten up Jungkook, carrying an unconscious and half naked human Seokjin in his arms. Jungkook just laid there on the ground as the feral wolf clawed at his skin. He didn't fight back or try to stop the wolf, not even once. It took over an hour for the wolf to calm down and he transformed into his human form before he collapsed. Since he was completely naked and his clothes were ruined, Jungkook removed his torn and bloodied shirt and used it to cover Seokjin's body as much as he could.
"I am okay, everyone. Do not worry about me," Jungkook assures those who are listening.
Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but Jungkook speeds off without another word. Frowning, Taehyung goes back into the living room to supervise Jimin who's playing a game with Jongin and some of the other guys. They've been trying to keep him occupied so that he wouldn't worry about his hyung too much. If Jungkook says he will protect someone, then that's exactly what he'll do.
Jungkook heads into his personal bathroom and gently lays the unconscious Seokjin in the tub. He makes a warm bath for the beta before he hesitantly removes the torn shirt. Being the gentleman he is, he makes sure not to look at Seokjin's private areas even though he saw the beta completely naked during the aggressive episode. He then heads into his room and grabs his wine glass to fill it up with his blood. He takes the glass into the bathroom and sits on the edge of the tub before he brings it to the beta's lips. He hesitantly cups Seokjin's jaw with his free hand to open the beta's mouth a bit wider and he forces the blood down the wolf's throat. When enough blood has been consumed, Seokjin finally regains consciousness and starts breathing heavily.
Seokjin processes his environment and notices that he's in the alpha's bathroom. The tap's running to fill the tub with warm water and he realises he's naked. If it was someone else, he would've gotten _so_ angry, but he knows Jungkook isn't one of _those_ people. Well, he doesn't exactly know, but he has heard enough about the alpha from Taehyung.
"How are you feeling, beta?" Jungkook asks, placing the wine glass beside the sink.
Seokjin observes Jungkook's bloodied torso and torn jeans, and he feels a little bad because he has no doubt he's the cause of this.
"Did I hurt you?" Seokjin asks hesitantly.
"I am used to it."
Seokjin purses his lips and looks away. He doesn't know why but he keeps feeling guilt and regret every time Jungkook does something nice. _Why_ can't the killer hybrid also be a killer alpha? _Why_ does Jungkook have to treat Seokjin with such kindness?
"I am very sorry. I touched your face to feed you my blood. Please forgive me," Jungkook says sincerely, only making Seokjin feel even worse.
Seokjin wants to cry. Not just because he feels bad, but because he's _so_ angry with himself for having difficulties with hating Jungkook. First, he feels bad for making Jungkook carry the chains all alone. Now, he feels bad for taking his aggression out on the alpha. _Why_? _Why_ is this happening?
"I will give you some privacy. Do not hesitate to call for me if you need me," Jungkook says.
He's about to leave but he's stopped by Seokjin's nervous voice.
"Wait," Seokjin says, turning off the tap.
Jungkook looks at the beta, awaiting a response. |
ec06863333684c68aa3813dc3000afef | ['37df619eb7284d03b2d353870a35d43e'] |
Not alone anymore
**Author's Note:**
> First Deltarune fic hope ya like it. Also someone dies. And like abuse and stuff. Enjoy my dudes.
Rouxls Kaard always thought that he would marry a nice guy who cared for him and loved him. He thought that they would be happy with a child, a nightmare ce house, and a peaceful life. Rouxls always wished for that, but dreams don’t come true. Happy endings don’t exist. Not in his life. At least, not for long. At first, Spade was so loving and sweet. They had dated, kissed, Rouxls trusted him with his life. Spade Suit had proposed to him and he had agreed. Everything was perfect. Six months after their wedding, they decided to adopt. They were going to start their own family.
They were visiting a local orphanage when Rouxls caught sight of a young toddler. He looked to be around the age of three. Roulxs immediately felt a connection. Perhaps it was the way that he looked so similar to his husband, with his blue eyes and black hair, or maybe it was the way he was chewing on a toy plane, slobbering all over it. The slim man put his hand on his heart, feeling his heard pound with fatherly love for this child. He crouched near the boy and smiled, holding his hand out to him in a welcoming manner. The boy opened his mouth, dropping the plane, and softly bit Rouxls hand. It didn’t hurt, as he expected, but Rouxls was very surprised. The boy released his hand and spoke, “Awa you gonna be my new dadda?” The slim man’s heart melted at the cuteness of the small child. “Haply!” Rouxls booped the toddler’s nose. “Spade, mine own loveth! prithee cometh h're!” The large man walked over to his husband. “Is this young knave not the cutest?” The toddler giggled, sticking his tongue out. “Okay, I’ll admit he’s pretty cute. Babe, I gotta go. Fill out the adoption papers and get him all settled into the house. I’ll see ya at 8.” Spade quickly kissed his spouse on the cheek and left. Rouxls Suit turned to his new son and grinned softly. “Holla knave. Mine own nameth is rouxls, and I am thy father anon.” The boy jumped up and down in excitement. “The oth'r sir yond thee did see is thy father as well. That gent is mine own husband.” The kid jumped even faster than before. “I tho happy!!! I wove you wesse dadda!!!” Rouxls smiles at the child and picked him up. “What is thy nameth, young knave?” The little boy just shrugged and giggled. Rouxls sighed and decided to name the boy. “Well, if 't be true thee doth not mind, i shall calleth thee Lancer.” Lander was ecstatic.
The family soon grew into a routine. They all went to work, seeing as Rouxls was the school counselor and Spade was the Principal, they came home, ate dinner, watched TV, and then slept. Life was nice, peaceful, and sweet with the loving husbands and their energetic son. Life was good. But life is never good for long. Lancer was only eight years old when everything started going downhill.
“Lesser dad! Bigger dad! Come here! Come on! Lookie Lookie!” Lancer was shaking with excitement. He had drawn comics all over the walls in his room and he just had to show his dads. The first three were of his dads and him playing basketball, and the rest were of his friends dancing. He was very proud of his comics and couldn’t wait for the praise he would receive. He smiled even wider as he saw the door open, revealing his lesser dad. Rouxls saw the coloured walls and grinned proudly. “I didst not knoweth thee hadst such most wondrous artistic talent! oh, is yond us?” Rouxls praised his son. Lancer was beaming. “Yeah dad it is! I drew all these myself! The first pictures are of us and the other ones are my friends! I have sooooo many friends! I have Hathy, Ruddin, Cover, Kris, Ralsei, and OH YEAH! My bestest friend ever! SUSIEEEEEE!” Lancer started to ramble on and on about his friend Susie and how nice she was. He went silent when he saw his larger father enter the room. “Bigger dad! Look what I did! Do you like it? Do you like it? Pleaseee tell me you like it!” Spade growled slightly before smiling. “Lancer, they are very... colourful. But how about you clean it up. I need to have a talk with your father.” Lancer deflated and mumbled an agreement. “I still liketh them” Rouxls whispered to Lancer before he exited the room. Lancer smiled again.
Spade grabbed Rouxls’ arm tightly and dragged him to their shared room. He slammed the door behind them. Rouxls was confused at his husband’s actions. He had never acted like this before. What had happened? “Loveth, wherefore didst thee criticize our son?” Spade turned to his Rouxls, gripping his arm even tighter. Rouxls winced at the pain. “Why? Why?! He drew ALL over his walls and made a huge MESS! And what did you do? You encouraged his bad behavior. You complimented his GARBAGE! He doesn’t have the right to ruin MY property. MY house.” Rouxls was shaking with fear. “Prithee stand ho yelling, and prithee alloweth wend of mine own armeth. T hurts... Tis his cubiculo, he shouldst beest able to dec'rate t as he pleaseth. Besides, is this not OUR house?” Spade let go of his arm and ran a large hand through his hair, taking deep breaths. “This is my house. You are my husband. That boy is my son. I control what my house looks like. You do what I say. And that boy will obey me.” Rouxls was appalled. “But-“ he was unable to finish his sentence, for he was on the floor. He placed his shaking hand on his throbbing cheek. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. What had just happened? He had no clue. His husband, his amazing, loving husband had yelled at him, dehumanized him, HIT him. He just refused to believe it. Something bad must’ve happened. That had to be it. His husband loves him. He loves their son. He would never purposefully hit his own husband. “M-mine own loveth, art thee well enow-“ Rouxls’ breath abandoned him as he was kicked. He tumbled across the room near the bed. “Shut up you bitch!” Spade yelled at the shaking man. Rouxls couldn’t help it anymore. He felt the previous tears drip down his dark cheeks, followed my even more tears. He was now a sobbing mess on the floor. This was real. This was happening. The aching pain that spread throughout his entirety proved that. “Don’t speak a word of this to the boy. I won’t hurt him as long as you do what I say. Disobey me, and it won’t just be you crying on the floor. Now get out of my room, you pathetic bitch.” Rouxls managed to limp to the door, using the wall for support and exited the room. Once he was out, the door was slammed shut behind him. He had to clean himself up.
After getting cleaned and applying extra concealer to cover up the large bruise on his cheek, he checked up on Lancer. “Oh, hey lesser dad! Are you okay? You and bigger dad were gone for a while and you’re limping.” Rouxls smiled softly at his lovely son. “I am fine, mine own son. I simply twist'd mine own ankle.” Lancer replied, “Oh, okay! Do you wanna listen to some of my MP3s?” The father and son duo hung out for the rest of the day, and Rouxls put the earlier events aside and simply excused it as a bad mood.
Rouxls tried to convince himself that Spade was still the same man he married, but he just had to accept that that was not true. The abuse continued. If Lancer failed a test, Rouxls was hit. If Lancer made a mess, Rouxls was kicked. If Rouxls was too slow to obey, he was beat. Rouxls continued to excuse his injuries as simple accidents, and innocent Lancer believed him.
Rouxls’ old marriage, his old love, his old life, was now all gone. It was merely just dust from the last now. Nothing was the same. The only thing keeping him from giving up on it all was Lancer. He had to protect his son, whom he loved so dearly. Rouxls was fine with the beatings. He was fine with the insults. He was fine with being locked in the cold closet at night. As long as Lancer was safe and happy, then he was fine.
It has been three years since the abuse started, and Rouxls still flew under the radar. Lancer may not have noticed all of the lies his lesser dad told him to convince him that he was okay, but Kris certainly did. Kris had suspected something suspicious was going on for a while, but they never voiced their concerns. At least not until they saw something they weren’t supposed to.
Kris and Susie were playing with Lancer on one Friday after school. But Lancer fell and scraped his knee. Susie was tending to the wound while Kris went to get Rouxls to help calm him down. The dads’ room was on the other side of the house, so it took a minute, but when Kris was about to open the door, they heard a pained yelp. They cracked the door open slightly and peeled inside. They saw Rouxls on the floor in a corner, several cuts and bruises littering his body. He was crying, bleeding and begging. Across from him stood Spade. The large man lifted up the smaller man by his hair. He whispered something and swiftly brought his head down upon his swinging knee. Rouxls fell to the ground, unmoving. Kris was on the verge of tears. They quickly ran back to Lancer’s room to retrieve help, but they were spotted by the furious man. “Get I’m back here child, we wouldn’t want Lancer to know how weak his father is, now would we?” Kris told him that he was the weak one. They told him that abusing others was a cowardly way for one to escape their inner demons. They quickly sprinted to Susie and Lancer. They called out.
Moments later, Kris and Susie were on their knees, hands crossed behind their heads. Lancer was held by the throat, his father holding him with a death grip. Lancer was struggling and whimpering for help. Suddenly, Spade released Lancer, who scrambled to Susie, and fell to the ground. His breathing was raspy and uneven and his head was bleeding profusely from a large wound in his skull. Rouxls stood, wavering behind the huge man, holding a bloody kitchen knife. He was shaking and crying, severely injured and bleeding. He fell to the ground next to his husband and pulled him into his lap. “Thee must knoweth, I truly loveth thee. I nev'r car'd how much I wast hurt, but the second thee lay thy filthy hands on mine own son, thy fate wast seal'd. I shall seeth thee in hell, Spade.” Rouxls spat his name like a curse. He proceeded to stab the man in his heart. The breathing ceased. Rouxls places a gentle kiss upon his late husband’s cold lips. He looked up to Lancer and found that Kris was calling the police while Susie was covering Lancer’s eyes with her hands.
Years later, Lancer was fourteen. He was going to his first day of High School. Kris and Susie were already Sophomores, so they were able to show him around the new school. Rouxls kissed his forehead and watched him enter the school. He then drove off to his biweekly therapy session. He used to go almost daily, but he now only goes once every two weeks. He truly feels better, though he has some scars and PTSD. He was truly thankful that Lancer’s friends were able to help protect his son, and he always showed it whenever they came over by baking his signature ginger snap cookies with Lancer’s face on it in icing. Lancer loved helping him make them.
Yes, there will always be scars and reminders of the terrible things that happened to him, but Rouxls would be okay. Not just for his son, but for himself as well. | 75339c924c6a4684af2dede6c078fad2 | ['37df619eb7284d03b2d353870a35d43e'] | In Which Michael Mell Stops the Fire
**Author's Note:**
> My first fic in this fandom, hope you like it!
> -Coopie Thicc
“Get out of my way. Loser.” Jeremy spat. The words sunk into Michael’s brain, a painful pang in his heart growing. He stepped aside and let Jeremy walk by. Michael closed the door and sunk to the ground, leaning against the door. He heard Jenna yell, “Hello! Other people have to pee!” Michael just shouted back, “I’m having my period!” After a second, she warmly spoke, “Take your time, honey.” and left.
Michael felt tears come to his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat. Soon, he was curling in on himself and sobbing, fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. He felt his breath getting short, and suddenly breathing was a difficult task. He tried to regain his composure and just breathe, but his lungs kept taking rapid breaths. The world started narrowing in on him. Suddenly the bathroom seemed a lot smaller and ‘Oh god is the room getting smaller I think it is.’ His vision was blurry and scary, so he just shut his eyes, still hyperventilating. He heard someone knock on the door and his panicking only increased. Soon they were banging on the door and in a moment of pure instinct, Michael got up and stumbled to the sink. He was hurriedly splashing water on his tear coated face when someone burst in through the door.
Michael whipped his head around to see Rich. Michael realized that he never locked the door, he was just leaning against it. He saw Rich grab at his hair and ears. Rich looked up and noticed Michael. “Antisocial Headphones kid. Do you know what Mountain Dew Red is? I need to have it. I need it now.”
Michael saw how much distress Rich was in. Yes, Michael was aware that Rich has been a dick to him since sophomore year, but he clearly needed help. Michael felt that the same. Making up his mind, Michael replied, “I have some at home, come with me, dude. We can talk on the way.” Rich looked ecstatic and followed Michael out of the bathroom. They made it into Michael’s PT Cruiser and he drove off.
“So,” Michael started, “What’s up?”
“My SQUIP. I need it out, I can’t have it it hurts I don’t want it anymore-” Rich cut himself of with a yelp, grabbing his head.
“Hey, hey, calm down, man. It’s okay. Take deep breaths and calm down.” Michael’s voice soothed Rich. He took deep breaths, feeling calmer. “It’s okay, I’ll get you that Mountain Dew Red, and you’ll be okay, just trust me.” Rich nodded in response. He wiped his eyes of the small tears that were pricking them.
“Why were you crying?” Rich asked. Michael was caught off guard. He didn’t expect Rich to notice, let alone care. ‘No, he doesn’t care, he’s just curious. He’s probably just gonna make fun of you again.’ Despite himself, Michael couldn’t help but feel the need to vent. To be comforted.
“Jeremy and I got in a fight. He called me a loser, but it’s not even that he called me a loser, we call each other losers jokingly all the time. No, it was the way he said it. Like he meant it, like he hated me. My best friend of twelve years, my only friend. It just became too much. He ignores me and then once he finally talks to me again, he just calls me a loser. I just-” Michael wiped his eyes and sniffled, taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t need to be sorry, you just needed to vent. That’s super shitty of him. I don’t really know you that well, but you seem like a good guy, you don’t deserve that.” Rich pat Michael’s shoulder comfortingly. The car stayed in a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride.
They pulled into Michael’s empty driveway and walked into his house. Michael led Rich to his room in the basement. Michael opened the mini fridge in the corner of his room and grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew Red. Just as he handed it over, Rich took a huge gulp of it. Everything was silent for a moment until rich collapsed and started screaming. Michael was panicking, trying to think of what to do. He quickly whipped out his phone and dialed 911.
At the hospital, Rich was sitting alone. People had heard that he was there, but none of his friends visited him, thinking he was insane due to all the panicked screaming he did the night of the party. Michael visited him though, worried for him somehow. “Michael,” Rich started, “why do you keep visiting me? We’re not even friends. I was a dick to you. I don’t deserve to be visited. My SQUIP told me to do some terrible things, and I did them. But still, you keep coming back to see me. Why?”
Michael sighed. He spoke, “Honestly, Rich, I don’t know why. Maybe I’m just lonely. Maybe I just want a friend. Maybe it’s because you listened to me. You could’ve cut me off, made fun of me, or done any shitty thing, but no. You listened and comforted me. Thank you for that.”
For the first time in a long time, Rich smiled a real smile.
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any suggestions please leave a comment. If you liked it, please leave kudos and a comment! <3
> -Coopie Thicc |
6392d1d66d4844249ad6f9ec6fe9e35a | ['37f59903495e4ad79ce69cccc9454dea'] | Negan took a moment to think about his words before replying; he decided to go with genuine, blunt honesty. "Yeah, that's fucked up but Carl's alive. He's not really a kid, he's a man now and all but I've known him the last couple years I spent in this room off and on with you. Closest thing I could get to a private room here at Grady Memorial, anyway." Negan confessed, the morphine began to hit and the man had a pleased look wash over his face. "Alright, I need to nap this shit up, don't hesitate to wake me if Carl brings food. He usually brings me a salad or something." Negan commented, Rick didn't know what to think of the man but he was a character for sure and seemed pleasant enough despite looking rough around the edges.
Rick grew silent as he waited. Time passed, one hour then two, and then Carl came rushing through the door to see an awake but very fragile, thin Rick laying on the hospital bed. Michonne was watching with happy tears in her eyes from the background as she saw them reunite. Carl couldn't even speak, all he could do was cry as he held his dad in his arms for the first time in years, his body shaking as he cried into the shoulder of his father. "I can't believe you're alive, Dad. What brought you back?" Carl asked, his ocean blue irises locked onto his father's cerulean blue hues. Rick, with a bittersweet and slightly tearful smile moved his good arm to place a hand on his son's cheek, before finally giving him the answer.
"I got to the part in the dream, nightmare, whatever you want to call it where you had died on me. You got so sick and then you were gone and I had to see you again, Son, I needed to." Rick admitted to Carl, feeling tears fall onto his cheeks without a care in the world, while Carl sat down beside him.
" _You came back for me?_ " Carl asked, thinking about the freak out he had back several months prior, just before Michonne returned to nursing at Grady. She had become a good friend to him, a positive figure within those walls, as well as Negan - despite his foul mouth and eccentric behavior at times. "I'm sorry if you heard any of my rants; I was so hurt that I didn't think you would even make it to see me go to prom, graduate, or even meet Judith. I have to pick her up from school in a little bit then I'll bring her by - before I contact Mom." Carl apologized and explained himself in a ramble, Rick nodded slowly. He was in pain and it was starting to really show.
"I'll get you some medication for that!" Michonne spoke up from the doorway as she watched the young man she had befriended over the years and grew to love like her own, too. He needed a motherly figure after all that wasn't just Lori after all she had learned from being around her. "Dilaudid will have to work, you're going to be in agony while getting used to your prosthetic arm and feeling ghost pains." Michonne added, putting a shot into his IV a few moments after she returned. Carl patiently watched.
* * *
"I can't wait to attend med school; it's gonna be lit as fuck!" Carl excitedly exclaimed, beaming as Michonne let out a laugh then shook her head at the young man.
"Language!" Rick scolded.
"Easy, Captain America; he's an adult - he can cuss all he wants since he's all grown up. He turned eighteen last month, right? January second, right?" Negan commented then turned his attention to Rick's medication. "Also speaking of dilaudid; why is Rick getting the good shit while I'm laying here still feeling this chest wound?" Negan continued.
"Finnegan, enough! I'll lower your medication to oxycodone and then Vicodin before you know it. Don't test me, I'll tell them you're ready for the vicodin now!" Michonne teased, Negan laughed then grimaced once more as he put his hands up.
"You win but please - it's NEGAN not FINNEGAN. You know I consider you a friend, Nurse Michonne; come on, now!" Negan teased as he corrected her on his name.
"Uh-huh, you only like me because I give you the _good stuff_. Lay back and sleep would you, you have another half hour till lunch and I'm not cleaning up your puke again if you get nauseous from the medication. I can only do so much." Michonne commented as she left the room, after sweetly patting Rick's good shoulder and telling him it was nice to finally get to meet him.
Carl waited until Michonne was gone and Negan was sleeping again to tell Rick the news. "Dad, uhm, I know you knew Mom was pregnant before you got shot and she was. She had a baby girl, Mom and I named her Judith Richelle, after my favorite teacher and you." Carl spoke softly, there was a distance washing over Carl's expression, as he thought about how to tell his father the news.
"When was she born?" Rick asked curiously, he was starting to figure things out for himself now.
"Two months after you were shot - November 21st, 2010." Carl replied, rubbing the back of his neck where his long shaggy hair would have been laying had this been Rick's dream, but instead he was looking at a clean cut young man with a small amount of facial hair.
"She ain't mine, is she?" Rick replied; Carl shook his head.
"No but Judith loves you; you're her dad. Since Shane... and all," Carl drifted off to breathe out a heavy shaky sigh of air from his lungs.
"Shane _**what**_?" Rick questioned.
"He was killed in the line of duty not long after Judith was born; we always said you were her dad because she didn't have a chance to know Shane." Carl explained, Rick looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard at the news, Carl awkwardly turned to look at the clock and realized it was mid-afternoon. Just after lunch time and he could go get his half-sister from school to bring her to see Rick.
"I'm going to let you rest and take this news in while I go get her from Kindergarten; I'll be back with her after I call Mom to tell her where we are. So she doesn't flip out on me."
"Thank you, Carl. I can't wait to meet her!"
"You're welcome, Dad."
"I love you, Kiddo."
"Ain't a kid anymore... but I love you, too. Always will." | d7074c11e69d44a09364e07aeb99e6b5 | ['37f59903495e4ad79ce69cccc9454dea'] |
1. Barely Breathing ( Day One )
**Author's Note:**
> First, I need to make a statement saying that I write slowly and I take my time. This story is emotionally draining to write and can be very hard on my mind. If I'm not in the best mindset, it'll take me a little while longer than it usually would for me to update, but I will get it done. I will NOT let anyone down!
>
> CONTENT WARNING: This story contains heavy, hard-hitting subject matter including the topic of suicide and suicide attempts. While this story is meant to show people that there are reasons to keep on living, even when you feel like there are none, it can be perceived as heavily triggering. My advice? Read cautiously. Stop reading if you can't handle the material within.
>
> If you're considering harming yourself or worse, please, contact a suicide hotline or text 741-741. Also, check the tags for all possible triggers in the story before going past this notice! Thanks.
>
> Also, title credit belongs to Phil Collins.
"I'll get there as quickly as I can, Fi; go ride with him. _Go!_ " Lip exclaimed in a panic, watching as the ambulance hauling his younger brother off shut the doors, his own co-workers working to revive Ian. He had only been found ten minutes before by Trevor and Fiona when they realized something was wrong, Lip had arrived back at the house to check in, when he noticed Trevor giving Ian CPR on the lawn with one of Ian's own kits from work. Since then, everything was a total blur and nothing seemed to make sense in the eldest Gallagher brother's own mind as he helplessly wondered if Ian would make it through the night.
Making his way back inside the house to grab his own jacket and keys, a loosened piece of wood on the porch snagged the bottom of Lip's jeans, causing the young man to stumble forward. "What the fuck?" Lip muttered curiously through tears as he looked down at his feet. Between the cracks, he could see repeated blue blinking, and what looked like a flip phone of some kind. He bent down, moved the plank of wood aside, and grabbed the phone to flip it open.
The phone was on, the screen read 'Missed Call, 8:41pm: MICKEY" and as soon as Lip saw the name he ran inside with the phone to sit down on the couch, pressing the number one to dial Mickey back. Even if it was now after eleven, Mickey had to know what was going on, even if it put him and his brother at risk.
The sound of the flip phone buzzing woke Mickey, he wasn't expecting a call back since Ian had been ignoring him, only talking with him once after he crossed into Mexico. He quickly grabbed the phone out of his nightstand and flipped it open to answer the call. "What the fuck took you so long, Firecrotch?" Mickey asked, furrowing his brow as he waited for an answer. He sounded both exhausted and irritated by the call. Hearing sniffling and what sounded like shaky breathing on the other end of the line, Mickey calmed himself, just long enough to see if he was okay. "Hey, Ian, you okay? Whatcha sobbin' about?" Mickey questioned.
"It's Lip; Ian's been taken to the ER. He tried to commit suicide, and I'm heading to the Hospital to see how he is. If he's still with us," Lip managed to get out without openly crying, gasping for air, or letting his voice break. Though to Mickey, he already sounded broken by his tone of voice, and the words alone were enough to make Mickey want to spring into action. "Keep your phone on, I'll be in touch but I have to go now."
"Hold up," Mickey began, his hands going cold as they shook while he held tightly onto the burner phone he kept for contact between the two. "I'm coming home, alright? I'm crossing that damn border, you tell him to hold on for me, I'll be back to him soon!" Mickey added, his own voice cracking as a tear fell down onto his cheek. The two ended the call, Mickey grabbed his things and tossed them into the only bag he had, then headed off into the night. Already knowing of a way to get back as long as he contacted the right connections to get him to Illinois safely.
"This is a new fuckin' low; even for you, Ian." Mickey mumbled under his breath tearfully as he packed his things, fearing the worst. He knew going back would land him in jail for good, yet he didn't care, as long as he could see Ian one last time.
On the way to the Hospital, Lip thought of ways to help Mickey go unnoticed in the building by security, or anyone else that could be watching for him still. A few months had past by but a search seemed to always be on for fugitives in the area. Yet his mind kept returning to his brother and all he could do was hope for the best, even if he was expecting the worst. As he parked, he took a moment to take everything in and collect himself, as he walked towards the Hospital across the street from the parking deck.
* * * |
506d1b5241bd4dc68a1bbd992a86828a | ['3820fe2d8e9e4c8f8409453b250f9c78'] | “Oh, there are many ways.” He says. “I do enjoy the the old faithful neck bite. Though some consider my method rather barbaric, it’s quite easy to make obvious to other demons someone has been claimed.”
“Neck bite?” He asks meekly, curling his fingers around the candlestick. Tšernobog makes a purring like noise and leans closer, putting a hand around his throat.
“Yes. I make sure to puncture both the arteries. And if the marking begins quickly enough you wont bleed too much.” He says with a vicious grin and pulls his hand away. Appearing finished with this conversation he moves as if to undo the button of Flug’s trousers.
It’s as if Flug’s mind switches to autopilot; he pulls the candlestick holder from behind him, sending the candlesticks across the room, and bashes it against Tšernobog temple. The demon stumbles back, hand going up to hold his head.
The human disguises peels back slightly. His pink eyes shift to thin slits on top of a black background, and thing, red claws push from his fingertips.
Despite Flug’s surprise at the small change in appearance, he doesn’t allow the demon much time to recover and jumps down from the counter. He continues to beat the candlestick holder onto his head even when he breaks skin and black blood seeps from Tšernobog’s head and hits the white walls.
By now Tšernobog’s form has shifted into an almost bear like creature. Deep crimson fur, large paws, small pink eyes, and teeth that protruded from his snarling lips. He was curled against the wall like a defensive cat.
A large paw swipes out and takes out Flug’s legs from under him. He hits the ground with a heavy thud. Tšernobog is quickly hovering over him, snarling and growling in his face.
With one quick movement he goes to bite at Flug’s throat, but the human manages to slam the wide base of the candlestick holder into his eye. This makes the beast pull back.
He scrambles out from under him and runs from the bathroom. The velvet carpet that covers the grand staircase nearly slips out from under him, nearly sends him tumbling down the stairs.
A vicious roar sounds through the silent manor, the large beast bends the doorway of the bathroom to get out. Its movements are surprisingly swift for such a large monster.
Its claws tear up the carpets as it runs. As the paws hit the floor the ground shakes. Before Flug knows it, he’s pinned against the front door. One claw narrowly missed his head, the other sinks into his stomach.
Tšernobog snarls something vaguely English. Flug knows he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him now. If he would break his wrist for falling for a trick, he’s maul him for something like attacking him.
His maw opens up to snap at him, most likely to deliver the killing blow, or at one to make him suffer. As he rears back he suddenly rawrs again and pulls back to look behind himself.
It’ the young maid girl, bloody kitchen knife in hand. It drips thick like tar from the blade. Her eyes are wide and terrified, an expression that Flug very much shares.
She tosses a steak knife to the floor before scurrying backwards as Tšernobog moves to attack her. It’s small but sharp, and if he’s careful, and the two work together, they could probably debilitate him.
The rug is kicked out as Tšernobog’s hind paw catches on it, and it sends the knife sliding across the room. Flug makes a run for it and snatches it up as the demon traps the maid in a corner.
He runs and brings the knife down as hard as he can and pulls it down. As Tšernobog is about to turn around to swipe at Flug, she reaches up and plunges the knife into a washed-out eye.
Tšernobog jerks back, landing on his side. A large paw tries to pry the knife from his eye. The maid steps around his body and takes the steak knife from Flug’s hand and jams it into his other eye.
There’s a thunderous roar as the demon backs itself into a corner, trying the maneuver in a way to pull the knife from its sockets.
“We must move. I know bar, I will take you.” She says and grabs his wrist. As she drags him towards the front doors she grabs a heavy Frock coat and drapes it over his shoulders. “Long walk.”
The mansion is surrounded by a dense forest. Bird song is loud and clear outside. The area is unfamiliar to Flug, who for most of life in Germany has only lived in the large cities.
“Where… are we?” He asks and manages to shake the maid’s hand away long enough to slip his arms through the sleeves to the coat and button it up.
“A few meters from Brunnenkopf.” She says and grabs his wrist again.
“Brunnenkopf?! That’s kilometers from the nearest town or hotel!” He says. She doesn’t seem deterred by this and continues down the long driveway towards a thin dirt road.
For the first day the two walked along the roads, the maid- who was named Cäcilie- would pull them into ditches or behind shrubberies and trees when a car would pass. It would take a few minutes to calm her before they continued.
“Stop.” Cäcilie says and yanks on his sleeve. He checks for cars but there wasn’t any to be seen. Still, she seemed anxious again and wouldn’t continue to walk. “Getting dark, rest.” She says. | 5a83a8e66de549a6bb55f9136d2df694 | ['3820fe2d8e9e4c8f8409453b250f9c78'] | She'd never known a demon to want a human for anything other than a slave or a toy to play with until it breaks. Jefecito seemed to be the gleaming example of everything a demon ought to be. Sinfully proud, arrogant in every sense of the word, possessive, blood thirsty. The absolute, merciless rage sparked in his eyes when he spoke about what he would do to all the church patrons. While she had raged all day against Berith the morning Flug had been taken, her own fury hadn't come close to his own.
Creeping down the stairs she makes her way into the bathroom, locking the door quietly before pushing the shower curtains back to ensure she was alone. With a sigh she pulls them back and sets about what she had woken up to do. After washing and drying her hands she hesitates to open the door. Berith had retired for the night before the two of them, opting to miss out on this night's dinner. But still, she didn't know if he would be prowling around outside in the dark corners. She wasn't sure if the presence alone of Jefecito tipped him off or if he had heard their initial conversation. But he seemed deeply displeased with him being here.
Biting her lip she grabs the handle and pushes the door open and squeezes her eyes closed. When nothing happens she peers an eye open. No one was there. With a relieved breath she steps out and quietly makes her way back up into the loft. When she returns Jefecito is sitting at the foot of Flug's bed, examining something in his hands.
"You're up late, girl." He mutters without looking up from his hands. She makes her way back to her bed and slips beneath the covers, reveling in the warmth against her skin.
"You are too." She says. He looks up, dark eyes connecting with hers.
"Yes, well I have something to attend to." He mutters and turns the object over in his hand. Peering over curiously she catches sight of the object. It was a golden lavaliere in the shape of a goat's head. Its horns and eyes decorated with rubies.
"What is that?" She asks, leaning over the side of her bed for a better look. He turns his head towards her, gaze flicking back towards the jewelry in his palms.
"It's a bewitched item." He says bluntly. "It is taking small amounts of my magic and storing it inside. For what purpose I am unsure."
"It's taking your magic?"
"Magic isn't the entirely right word but that's the best your species came up with, so yes. Minute amounts as to not hinder my normal functions, but while I rest it extracts excess magic and absorbs it."
"Is it doing anything with it?"
"No. It's just holding it for the time being I suppose. It's easy enough to tap into and take back." He says and slips the necklace back around his throat. It glitters slightly in the dim moonlight. With the conversation dead she turns away from his bed and lays down. Perhaps she shouldn't be turning her back towards him just yet, but she was putting some trust in him not to slit her throat in the middle of the night. So just this moment with her defenses down shouldn't hurt.
Breakfast that morning had been particularly tense between the two demons. Cäcilie had pretended to not notice it and focused on her food. Afterwards Jefecito took the plates with a mocking, half suppressed grin and washes them. Berith gives his gives his back a hard glare and raises from his seat. She cracks a smile as he makes his way over to the table near the door and grabs his keys.
"Are you two ready?" He asks, turning back towards the kitchen. Quickly she lets the smile from his face and rises from her seat. Resuming her coldness towards him and makes her way towards the door to grab her shoes. As she passes Berith he stops her and grabs her by the chin, turning her head towards him. His eyes darken a few shades and his fingers are suddenly icy cold.
"We're going to behave at church today, aren't we?" He whispers for only her to hear. With a glare she opens her mouth to tell him no when a mumbled 'yes' slips through. Satisfied he lets go and moves away. Stepping into her shoes she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, that familiar feeling of being controlled settling in her head.
Jefecito pauses as he moves to grab his own shoes, eyes moving down to her chin and narrowing slightly before continuing on. Berith leads them outside and into the car, Cäcilie takes the passenger seat, not wanting them to rip at each others throat or Berith to glare at him the entire way and crash the car. As usual when they pull into the church parking lot Berith unbuckles but doesn't step out. He peers into the rearview mirror, meeting eyes with Jefecito and finally smiling at him.
"Have fun inside, Mr. Jefecito." He says. Jefecito matches his gaze steadily, unaffected by his knowing remark.
"I believe it'll be rather boring inside." He replies before stepping out. "Do hurry, Cäcilie, I'd like to leave as soon as possible." He calls back before closing the door. Berith smile fades slightly but he looks towards her with an evil gleam in his eye.
"Remember what I said, dear. Have fun." She ignores him and quickly slips out, trying to tell him to fuck himself but her mouth doesn't even open. Instead she slams the car door and begins her way towards the church. Jefecito stops her and watches Berith pull out and begin to drive away before turning back towards her. Silently he grabs her face much like Berith had for a quiet moment before letting go. |
57a76a9a068644b8962511c7f882621e | ['383bc18b91f84b4f9cd5dd9ba6e09949'] |
1. +++ Breaking News +++
**Author's Note:**
> So hey, I'm back.
> Not much to say but that I still love these two :)
> First chapter is an adapted news report but the next will be straight up prose that wrote myself (when I get to it)!
> Thank you all for reading this and have a nice day~
## Chicago 2016: American wrestler accepts surprise on-pitch proposal after olympic 1/8 final
**American amateur wrestler Chad Gable has been surprised with an on-pitch wedding proposal following Cuban Pablo Shorey's win in the Men's Greco-Roman 84 kg wrestling competition at Chicago's United Center.**
Gable's partner of one year, 27-year-old Jason Jordan, walked onto the pitch as the crowd were dispersing following the match, and popped the question.
Jordan, who is a manager at the venue, grabbed a microphone and delivered an emotional speech before embracing his partner to the cheers of onlookers, the BBC reported.
"I know wrestling people are amazing and they would embrace it," Jordan told reporters.
> "He is the love of my life."
The couple live in Orlando, Florida, where Gable has been focussing on training for the Olympic event.
Gable was a Dave Schultz Memorial International Champion and a U.S. Open Champion before he was selected for the USA's Olympic team.
"As soon as I knew he was in the squad I thought I have to make this special," Jordan told the BBC.
Twitter erupted with congratulations from around the world for the newly minted couple, with well-wishers tweeting photos, rainbows and hearts.
Same-sex marriage has been legal in the United States since 2015.
Chad Gable beat Keitani Graham 7-0 to finish in ninth place overall in the final standing.
2. Make it special
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Jason is on a mission of love.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I'm baaaack!!!
> Split this part in two so I have some more time to work on the speech ^^
>
> Boy howdy, working 9 hours a day is exhausting. Plus, I had to cram for my theoretical driver's exam (is that what you call it in English?) I passed!!!!
>
> I kind of pictured the whole NXT gang working as a small wrestling school and being this adorable tight-knit family. Also it was somehow rly hard to decide with whom American Alpha would be good friends? There's no definite crowd they hang with and I know next to nothing abt behind the scenes stuff...so...
>
> trying to figure out how many times I can write 'I love you' in one fic
>
> (kinda wanna write some smut for a fourth chapter, kinda wanna not do that and blush tons)
> ((that reminds me, I saved a smol birb yesterday! it was in the building. my boss is scared of fluttery things so I became an unforeseen hero))
> (((call me the BIRD MASTER, master of the birds)))
> ((((also, saved as a word looks weird, anyone rly sure it isn't sove or smth?))))
>
> Thank you for reading this, I appreciate it!
>
> Have a nice day~
Jason stares at the two people in front of him on the screen.
Half of his mind focuses on the match. Chad fights like his life depends on it, but the other guy has the edge over him, he notes. Jason is desperate to see Chad win; this is what he worked for, this is the moment they both worked towards for so long. Chad deserves this win.
There is something else, though.
Today's the day. By _god_ , is he nervous.
Jason doesn't doubt his decision to marry Chad, he just worries the proposal is gonna suck.
Anxiety turns to trepidation.
Someone grabs his hand. He looks at it, then up at Bayley's face. She knows about his plans, their whole group of friends knows. When they heard he got a job at the Olympics, they did everything in their power to come too. They love the gossip.
Some of them are actual volunteers, they handle the equipment and direct people to their seats. Others, like Bayley, came for "emotional support" or "to have a good laugh when Gable's face gets smashed in" like Dash and Dawson put it. (They are very old school in the way they show their emotions.)
The four of them sit far in the back, overlooking the whole arena. He's supposed to watch out for any kind of trouble, but things are running smoothly today.
Bayley lays a hand on his shoulder.
"No need to be scared, you'll both do great. Chad's gonna win and you're gonna ace this proposal. Focus on your breathing. Good. Let me ask you something. Do you love him?"
"I do. I do love him.", he says with a smile. He hears a sniffle from his other side, but when he turns to look, Scott just glares at him.
"Then there's nothing that can go wrong", Bayley cheers.
And Chad loses.
A sting of sympathy cuts through the nervousness but it's replaced by determination. Chad lost, all the more reason to make him happy.
He stands up abruptly. This is it. Dash and Scott each clap him on the shoulder serveral times and even grumble something that could be mistaken for encouragement. Bayley gives him a quick hug to send him off. "Go get your boy!", Dash shouts after him.
Jason awkwardly makes his way down the row of seats - what was he thinking, sitting so far away from Chad? He steps on a few toes here and there and makes intimate contact with a lot of unwelcoming knees until finally, he reaches the stairs in the middle of the bleachers.
So. _Many. **People.**_ | 4fcad4f59f574a7ab6621cc4d9f212b9 | ['383bc18b91f84b4f9cd5dd9ba6e09949'] | "Have you seen that Red Jack’s kid got your bow?" he blurted out and immediately grimaced.
"Yeah," Throndir’s voice was even softer now, "I put it away when Carrot left."
"Oh. You… wanna talk about it?"
"I don’t know. No use getting into it too deep."
They arrived at the entrance to the garden. Ephrim took a torch to guide their way down.
"I mostly gotta think it over some more, but-" he paused and Ephrim glanced at him until he added, "I don’t think I can go back."
Ephrim mulled that over for a few steps.
"That’s rough, buddy."
Throndir chuckled.
Before them, the tunnel opened up into a cave. Ephrim went around the cave walls to light the other torches, while Throndir crouched down to inspect some of the dead plants.
"When was the last time someone was down here?" his voice echoed, even over the small distance between them.
Ephrim tucked his torch into a sconce and rubbed his eyes.
"Uh. A while. Figured we could use the resources somewhere else if these fuckers just kept dying off."
Throndir turned in his crouch, held up a dark green clump of plants against the light, and squinted at it.
"Well here might be some good news," he finally announced, "I think I know how to turn this into fuel."
Ephrim blinked. Throndir stood up.
"Um, wow, I didn’t expect that, that’s great."
Throndir raised his hand, reconsidered, let the plants drop, and gestured over the rest of the cave.
"I think all of this should get us," he paused to calculate, "A few more months before we have to worry."
Ephrim stepped closer to the bed and nudged some of the plants with his shoe.
"I’ll get someone on it as soon as possible. Do you think if we can clear all this out we might finally have some fresh water too?"
"Oh, for sure! We’re closer to the groundwater here."
"This can’t be that easy," Ephrim shook his head in disbelief.
"It isn’t. This is just a lucky break."
Throndir grinned at him. Ephrim felt laughter bubbling up as the anxious knot in his chest finally loosened. Throndir opened his arms and they hugged.
There were many more hard days ahead of them, Ephrim thought, but they were gonna make it through. |
e2fc219a48464f109994281d97d118f8 | ['383d8c5c116643d2b997cfc7e428fbdf'] | Jensen couldn't tell if it was her excitement over the work they were doing, or the work itself, the necessity to strain his brain to remember, to think about all those details that had always been irrelevant to him, but now mattered above all, but he felt good again. Excited and thinking clearer than he had in weeks.
"I wonder if Jeffrey will try to free all those poor people like you, imprisoned there?" Nicky looked at him with shining eyes. She was a good soul, even if a little naïve at times, but right now Jensen wanted to hope with her, to believe in the knight in shining armor. It was a prison, that place he grew up in. He hadn't seen it that way but that's what it was. He hadn't known friendship, acceptance, working side by side with someone, until he felt it -- here, now, with Nicky and with Jeffrey. Back there he had only been supposed to follow orders and fulfill his assignments. Only Eric ... Eric had cared about them, this had been that odd thing about him, the one Jensen couldn't name. Eric really wanted to help him.
Jensen had to set Eric free as well. He had to save all his brothers, all the other empaths, telepaths, everyone else he hadn't known so well, but he had known _about_ them. When he saw Nicky's research, when she told him what Steve reported about telekinesis, telepathy and mind control, Jensen remembered more about them. And he wanted them all to be able to experience what he was experiencing now. To make friends. To fall in love.
"You were a tremendous help!" Nicky didn't hide her joy. It was the middle of the night when they finished but Jensen wasn't tired. He stood up and headed for the door, certain that Nicky would be right behind.
She laughed instead, "Wait a moment!"
"Aren't we gonna--" he waved his hand, gesture easier to express what he wanted to say than words.
"We'll let Jeffrey take a look at it in the morning."
"Why not now?"
"It's four a.m., Jensen. I hope he's sleeping now. We should too."
Maybe she could sleep but Jensen couldn't. Not that he didn't try; he lay down and turned from side to side for half an hour. And then he had a dream, the same dream he often had about the little girl with golden hair. Except the girl in his dream was not two years old anymore. She was a teenager, asleep in a bed in a darkened room in the attic ...
She woke up with a start ...
***
It was hard, pretending that Lieutenant Cortese was attractive, but Jared had to try his best. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Jensen. It didn't work -- the lips were too soft, the arms too thin, her too long hair tickled. Besides, longing only made things worse, especially since Jared knew that no matter what, this hole in his heart wasn't going to heal any time soon. He had made a mistake, had missed his window in Seattle, because he'd hesitated, because love had blindsided him.
He couldn't think about Jensen now.
"You miss her, don't you?" a soft voice asked and Jared looked up, startled. "Oh, you're so easy to read, Sam. Sam, that's your name, isn't it?" Lt. Cortese asked and Jared swallowed uncomfortably. He kept forgetting his alias and she must have caught onto this too. Why else would she say he was easy to read? This was going too far. "You flirt with ease but when push comes to shove, you're reluctant. I know the feeling." She sighed and stood up. Walked to the small table in the corner of the cabin and poured two glasses of water. "Here," she handed one to him and sat back. "Have you heard about Jeffrey Dean Morgan?" she asked casually and Jared almost dropped the glass. He gulped at the water, praying that she didn't notice how his hand trembled. She knew. Oh, God, she knew everything. He only wondered if everyone else onboard knew as well. Or was it only her suspecting? And what he should do in either case? His mind was blank. "He's the biggest thorn in the Confederation's side and we were sent to capture him." Cortese leaned back and smiled at him. "That's our mission, Sam. We're almost in Vancouver and the day after tomorrow you are going to march into his headquarters and bring him down. You're going to prove he's not as invincible as some people seem to think. See, we're keeping it a secret, because some people are afraid he has spies literally _everywhere_. Which, in my opinion, is bullshit. So. Now you know. Do you feel more comfortable?"
Jared couldn't answer. He knew he should say something, because silence like this might look strange. Although, surprisingly, Lt. Cortese didn't suspect him. Yet. So he only raised his glass and she smiled.
"To the success of our mission," she understood his gesture and Jared gulped the rest of the water with relief.
"We'll do our best, sir," he choked out finally.
"You better. Now go get some sleep."
Jared went back to his bunk and only then he realized that he was going to see Jensen really soon. He was going to Vancouver. It was surreal.
***
Two days later, they were awakened at four a.m. and assembled on the deck. Jared joined his unit, stood at attention right next to big-nosed Pinocchio and stared through the darkness at the Captain and the officers on the other side of the deck.
And at the city lights all around them. | a79a490394b74b6486e03256f26676f2 | ['383d8c5c116643d2b997cfc7e428fbdf'] | "Captain." Dee's courteous greeting welcomed him in CIC a couple of days later. It was odd – Dualla was usually so much more chatty. Especially lately; Lee thought they hadn't spent as much time talking during the whole journey, as they did this last month. But then he thought that if he applied "lately" to the last couple of days – Dee was avoiding him.
_Is this going somewhere?_ she had asked, and he hadn't given her an answer. There was too much on his plate already, without her having false hopes. Was he really so good at pretending, that it led her to believe there was something between them? Some emotional commitment? Because if he looked at it from her perspective, he could understand she was investing. While all he did was trying not to burden her with his nihilism.
That was a lie. He didn't behave like he did, out of sheer altruism. Quite on the contrary in fact – he realized he was incredibly selfish with her. And he wasn't ready to change that. Truth be told, he was glad Dee took her cue and stopped bothering him. That was what he wanted from the very start – to be left alone. Too bad Dee had apparently suffered from that, but there was nothing Lee Adama could do about it in his current state of mind.
"Captain, are you listening?" the President's soft voice woke him up. Yes, he was at a meeting with the President, concerning some mining operation they were about to commence. And Laura Roslin was still quite cold towards the Adamas after the way they dealt with the black market. He shouldn't add to her resentments
Focusing on the conversation about the planned military operation with regard to protecting the mining ship, Lee couldn't help but think, that Ma'am President was still remembering how late he came to her deathbed. And that it meant more for her than he'd initially assumed. She seemed indifferent then, but had she been in better shape, she would have let him know how deeply betrayed she felt. And understandably so
But Lee was happy she had been that frail, because what would he tell her? How would he explain himself? And now they hardly ever talked. That was good too.
***
**Chapter 9: Scar**
***
NOTE: "Scar" was all about Kara, but what was Lee thinking? Here's what I think…
***
Kara was drinking too much, and Lee knew that. And he didn't do anything about it.
In fact, as long as she was doing her job – which she was – he didn't find it to be a problem. Everything was different somehow, with everyone onboard _Galactica_ stuck in this asteroid field, with no option of FTL escape, attacked by cylon scouts over and over again. Everything seemed surreal, all pilots bunched together as often as they could, boozing their brains out, not even for a card game, but just to sit together, hear others' voices, see their faces. In a way it reminded Lee of the first cylon attack, every thirty three minutes… It was different on every level, except for the cylons participation in the event, but the feeling was the same. Hopeless, endless waiting for it to be over.
Even he – the CAG – chipped in those every-evening gatherings. He tried to work out CAPs and Alert Vipers in a way that would not let any pilot be left out of the meeting twice in a row. This became the most important point of the daily schedule – even more than the morning briefings.
He wasn't doing briefings anymore; he let Starbuck do those. He was still grounded, so it felt unfair to send those kids to combat, knowing that their CAG was safe sitting back. Stabuck was one of them, Apollo wasn't. He even stopped with his physical tests, he wouldn't dare taking away someone's precious spare time, to evaluate his yet another disaster.
He found a way to get over that. To get over his regret, self-loathing and disappointment. He was working. As much as he hated the desk work, it was the only way to get through the day. He realized he was getting slow with all the paperwork. A few months ago he was able to fly CAP, exercise, get all the reports in on time, and still get some decent sleep. Right now he wasn't able to get more than four hours of that per night, mostly not even as much. Lack of sufficient rest was probably one of the reasons his brain sometimes refused to work. Sometimes he was spending long minutes just staring at one page of a report, not able to understand a single word. That made him sit in his office for hours and hours. Luckily – in this mess, that their existence had become – nobody noticed.
Then there came the evening, and Lee was just sitting with his pilots in the rec-room, listening to their quarrels, jokes, complaints. That felt good, relaxing. As if their relaxation was somehow contagious. After an hour or two everyone was heading for their rack, or for another CAP, and Lee was going back to his office. Just to sit for a few more hours, gaping at the pages after pages, after pages.
Sometimes he missed flying. Sometimes hearing pilots talk on wireless made him feel even more empty inside. Their banter, or their terrified screams… when there was nothing he could do to help, not an order he could give to save them from their horrid fate.
On the evening when a new nugget – callsign BB or something – bought it, the rec-room was empty. Only Starbuck there, and a bottle of booze. Lee sat down at the table, without a word. She seemed in need for a company. They downed a few in complete silence. To BB. To the memory of BB. |
0a8663101e1546109f47acb4259f12e2 | ['383e3aef631d4782ab6e2a0bf0c9f9e6'] |
i said it, i meant it
**Author's Note:**
> first smut ive written in a while, and first smut ever posted somewhere, so be gentle w/ me lol
>
> why did i start shipping this? i honestly dont remember what triggered it, but like...BIG otp
>
> lmk what you think! <33
>
> ( suggested listening: drive by melissa ferrick; come over to my house (lunice remix) by herizen )
The silence of the open-air hangar was broken only by a soft rumble of ship thrusters pushing back against themselves, slowing the ship to a hovering stop. Before it even stopped moving, Ikora phased out of her jumpship via on-ship transmat and hung in midair for a long second before dropping to the cold metal floor beneath her, gliding the last six inches of the fall to break it. As soon as her feet touched the catwalk, she immediately began storming towards the one figure who lingered here at such a strange time of half-morning-half-night.
Ikora leaned into her brisk, stalking pace and Petra had to swallow a second of anxiety-butterflies. The Warlock’s hands were fists; her expression was dark with a soft scowl, and her face glowed with the flickering light of her eyes, shining bright as stars - or perhaps...perhaps wildfires, Petra thought. She steeled herself—
—but it was not enough. Ikora closed the distance between them, and they came together: Ikora suddenly had a handful of Petra’s jacket and braced her other hand against her shoulder. The force of this collision caused Petra to stumble backwards only in part due to the shock of it - she found seconds later that Ikora was...intentionally pushing her? Oh. She realized that in a few more strides, Ikora would have her against a wall.
The two women locked eyes, and it was all Petra could do to not hold her breath. Being this close to those eyes, those lips, that tongue, those teeth...it was breathtaking. It seemed that Ikora noticed her expression and let out a dark laugh under her breath that dropped like a weight; she hesitated for a moment.
“Don’t fuss,” she breathed, hot and heavy. Petra watched her mouth move with a wide-eye, and time seemed to slow down. The Warlock tilted her head slightly, as if to ask a question, once Petra managed to drag her gaze away from Ikora’s mouth and back up to her eyes. “Life’s too short not to rush.”
Choking back her awe, Petra managed to speak. “I said it,” she sputtered out. Then, after taking a breath: “If I said it; I meant it.”
That was all Ikora needed to hear.
_____________________________________________
Ikora had a fistful of Petra’s soft pink hair, and used it to drag her up from behind, pressing herself against Petra’s bare back.
The Warlock was warm and filled with Solar energy; Petra wouldn’t have needed to be Awoken to feel her Light pressing outward on the universe around her, seemingly ready to burst forth at any moment. She had always thought highly of the Warlock Vanguard – well, almost always; time had worn down her naïve perceptions of the City and its leadership – but being here, like this, so close and so vulnerable, she realized: Ikora was more than _just_ the greatest Warlock of the City.
Head tilted back, giving in to Ikora’s excitingly rough grip on her hair, she flicked her eye back to stare at what she could see of those shining eyes from her peripheral vision. She was glad to find Ikora slowly and deliberately taking in the sight of her like this: Her entire body blushing and covered in marks Ikora herself had so carefully placed on her shimmering blue skin.
When Ikora brought her eyes up to meet hers after a tantalizingly slow moment, gaze sharp and piercing, Petra shuddered with anxious excitement. Evidently, Ikora noticed.
Not but a few seconds later, Petra felt the warm touch of Ikora’s palm gliding forward to caress her thigh, careful and slow. Despite Ikora’s battle-scarred appearance and toned body, her skin was like velvet, and the hands that Petra had thought would be rough and callused were delicate and tender, with carefully manicured ( _short_ ) nails and not a blemish to be seen on her beautiful, soft skin. As delightfully vicious as Ikora had been tonight, the smallest reminders of her gentle nature were everywhere; all over her body, all around her, and in every soft, quiet breath she breathed. Petra could never be sure what side of her she liked better.
She couldn’t do anything about her own sharp inhale when Ikora’s fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. She was glad, though, because Ikora froze...and laughed. It was quiet, low, husky, dark – and right in Petra’s ear. As if she needed anything else to turn her on; she was way past the point of no return and if anyone was going to get her there, well, she wouldn’t regret that it was Ikora.
Petra could feel herself dripping, more than ready for anything Ikora could throw at her. She wondered for a moment if this would change their relationship from friends to friends wi--
A breathy, surprised moan left her parted lips as she reflexively arched her back, sitting taller. With a quiet snicker, Ikora slipped her fingers out of Petra with a quick flick of her clit and openly relished in the way her Awoken friend blindly reached back with her hands to steady herself, taking fistfuls of sheets as she absently searched for anything to give her a grip. It was unsurprisingly endearing. Ikora always knew Petra would be this way in bed, and she never had to actually bed her to know it: She had never made much fuss of trying to hide it. | af124765218f466b97bc8d8466351d9f | ['383e3aef631d4782ab6e2a0bf0c9f9e6'] | And yet Osiris simply stood in place, cradling the key in his hands like something precious, though his eyes still lingered on Vance's own sightless gaze: Those eyes...a beautiful baby blue flecked with a deeper green at the edges. He found himself dismayed in realizing that he could not remember if they were true to the original. Was any of this? The Lighthouse was the same, mostly, and Vance was still as sweet as Osiris knew him to be. But how much of this was truly a lie? How much of this was catered to him and what he wanted from it? Was this...this fragment of code that he had fallen for telling the truth? Was he even capable of truthfulness, or would he always tell him what he wanted to hear? There was no guarantee that Vance - _his_ Vance, the one who bled - would be happy to see him after all this time away. How could anyone know for certain what would happen?
Sagira floated down and bumped his chest, causing him to stumble backwards a step or two away from Vance. "Time to go, big man." Osiris looked from Vance, to the key in his hands, and finally to Sagira, with the confusion of a child on his face. "He's right."
Vance stood still and, after closing his eyes, watched the Light shift and change with a tearful half-smile-half-grimace as Osiris turned and stumbled towards the gateway, guided by Sagira's soft nudging. Feet shoulder width apart, he stood before the great pyramid of Vex light that would take him away from this simulation, eyes trained on his next exit before he even left. But he couldn't help but look over his shoulder at Vance again, who raised one hand as if to wave before clasping his palms together to hold his hands in front of him. _Always so_ _deliberate_ _, always so serene_ _,_ Osiris thought, even as Sagira bumped against his dreads to turn his gaze back to the portal.
Staring back into the deep blue, he still hesitated. Sagira floated away towards Vance, and then turned towards Osiris again. She did not even look at Vance as she waited, hoping Osiris would take the last step himself.
"Osir--" Vance cleared his throat, "Osiris...." The Warlock looked over his shoulder again, hopeful. Sagira readied herself for the worst.
"I love y--"
Just as quickly as the words began to ring out, Sagira felt Osiris pull back from the portal, and took the action she was hoping he wouldn't make her take. Flinging herself forward, she slammed her shell into his back as hard as she could, staggering him enough to send him through the gateway.
And just like that, he was gone, and it was over.
_Remember: He's waiting, right? You're_ welcome _._
**Author's Note:**
> for clarification, if it's needed: osiris has been spending time in the simulant present within the infinite forest testing the waters of a relationship with vance via a simulation, as he is extremely insecure about his feelings and is too worried about the outcome to confess them to the vance he knows. but as the master of the forest, it knows his desires, and still doesn't entirely bend to his will....
>
> lmk if you wanna see more of this ship! i have plenty of ideas floating around for one-shots and such if anyone thinks i should pursue it. thanks! |
37e2ea131bd14e7a9bdcad3c43a3903c | ['3848cfb720d44a13aeef0387e15ae69e'] |
1. Chapter 1.
**Author's Note:**
> So this is my first time ever posting a full length fanfiction anywhere, and I couldn't be more excited! I am also excited to hear your feedback and ideas! I will try to update at least once a week maybe more! so, have a blast!
Chapter 1.
Barry sighed as the king walked by, kneeling into the muddy ground as the party passed him. The young scribe was son of the kingdom recorder and spent most of his free time learning under his father, studying in the castle library for hours on end, pouring over text after boring text, learning about the histories of King Arin and Queen Suzy. He’d grown up with Arin, running around the palace halls and had become fast friends with Suzy. When the two wed Barry had spent weeks writing about how the land had been blessed with fair times since their marriage. In a years’ time he would take his father’s time and his life would fade away, as he could spend every minute of it documenting that of the King’s and Queen. His brother had slipped away from this future by running away, becoming a traveling merchant. Every so often he would get a letter from Alex, describing in great detail the places he’d traveled and the people he’d met. Barry was slightly envious of his brothers freeing lifestyle but at the same time knew that he had a duty to the kingdom and wasn’t one to shy away from the responsibility. Though, he did dream of a life of freedom, where he could live in a real home, not a cold and empty castle, where he could spend days writing stories and novels.
His reverie was interrupted by a tapping on his shoulder and he looked up to see Holly, one of the Queens ladies in waiting and her most trusted confidant. The pair were thicker than thieves and the lady herself was a true saint, taking care of the royal birds and everything. He slowly picked himself off the ground and kissed her hand before wiping off his trousers. They were along the castle fields, the king and queen returning from a Vacation to see her highnesses parents a few kingdoms over. The pair made their way to the palace kitchens, traversing the muddy and green hills as they did so.
“Good day Sir Kramer, how are you on this fine afternoon?” trilled Holly in her ‘royal’ voice, when sounded high pitched and funny. He returned the gesture by lacing his arm through hers as they made their way back to the castle. She was a vision to behold in the afternoon sunlight, wearing a pale lavender dress with bright pink flowers weaved through her pale blonde hair. She walked barefoot most of the time but do to the nasty weather had donned a pair of worn leather riding boots.
“Oh good day fairest Lady Conrad! May I assume that you and Sir Ross will be attending the ball?” He was speaking of the welcome home ball that was being thrown in honor of the King ad Queen’s return. Holly had been bubbling with excitement because it meant she would get to see her loving husband, Ross. The two had only been married for a few years but they loved each other very much. Barry still remember when Ross had presented her with the last courting gift, a beautifully drawn portrait of her.
Holly nodded and they continued talking until they reached the kitchen door. The warmth that rushed over Barry, chasing away the late September chill that had settled into his bones. The soft golden light the poured from the candles gave the place a homey feel, the servers and cooks all in a tizzy over the feast that was to take place tonight. In the midst of this though the pair was still able to get some lunch and enjoy it at the table, making small talk with the other servants about the somewhat early winter that was setting in. Soon enough though Barry was finished and bid Holly a good afternoon before going to the royal library. Today was one of his rare free days and he wanted to write some before he had to get ready. He left the kitchen and could feel the cool of the stone walls seeping slowly into his bones despite the thick clothing he’d worn for his afternoon stroll. Many people rushed around him and he was stopped a few times by familiar faces asked about his family, his life, and his duty. Barry really disliked small talk and was growing weary after the first people. The only thing that kept him strong was the thought of the roaring fire that was in the library, the pair of overly stuffed armchairs and a pile of book’s he’d been dying to read.
Finally he’d reached the tall oak doors of the library and a feeling of relief washed over him. All those long days that bleed into longer nights had been spent here and as a result he’d become a bit of an introvert. He placed his hands on the door and pushed at it until it opened, reveling his silent sanctuary. He walked into the room quickly, pushing the doors close behind him and efficiently cutting off the sound. Barry made his way to the back area used by no one but him, thinking only of the roaring fire and the books he loved. | 14e0d6b1ec2940c5ad05580e04e0c83a | ['3848cfb720d44a13aeef0387e15ae69e'] | Barry held the cloak to his face and took a deep breath, nose filling with the smell of evergreen and heady spices, a scent that seemed to belong solely to Dan. The kind act stuck him deep in his chest, and a strange blush filled his cheeks for seemingly no reason. His chest began to strain with a feeling he had no name for, and he tried his best to push it aside. Though, as he laid in bed with the cloak still resting in his fingers, he had the strangest feeling that fate intended to weave Dan and his threads together. In which way though, he wasn’t too sure.
3. Chapter 3
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Budding feelings and awful secerets
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I have been spending 5 hours a day in the hospital so you guys get this chapter early
Weeks passed and Dan and Barry’s friendship blossomed in the cold weather. The pair had taken to spending most of their free time together, whenever Daniel wasn’t training and Barry wasn’t working. Sometimes, Dan would just come into the vacuous library and watch Barry work, the pair sitting content in the comfortable silence. Other times Barry would go with Dan to one of the empty ballrooms, where the prince would practice speeches, greetings, and even sing from time to time.
Those were Barry’s favorite times, when Dan’s golden voice spun tales of love, passion, and stupidity. Sometimes Brian would be there, plucking the strings of a strange insturment and other times he would disappear for day on end. Barry did not know what the mysterious ninja got up too in his free time, and wasn’t on to ask. On these days he felt that strange warmth Dan inspired every time they were together. This feel had been growing stronger and stronger, surging like storm every day he spent in the young princes company. It was on one of these days, when the pair was alone in the ballroom, that Barry finally got the nerve to ask the question that bothered him to no end.
“Dan I don’t want to offend you or come off as prying, but I just have to know. Is there a reason you never took a queen? I mean, you’re plenty old enough and any girl would lo- ”
Dan’s instrument made a screeching noise as he abruptly stopped playing, thrown off by his younger friend’s question. The sound cut Barry off, and he was worried by the prince’s stark expression. Dan, who always had a jovial and relaxed air about him, now he seemed tense and struggling for words. Finally, after several moments of uncomfortable silence the older man began to speak in a hollow and detached voice, the likes of which Barry had never heard before.
“I grew up differently from most royals. My parents grew up together with my father as a knight and my mother the princess. She fell in love with him and the King granted them the right to marry. They raised me to believe that love was right and that I should always follow my heart no matter what everyone else told me.”
He gave a gruff laugh next, an ugly sound that Barry had never heard him make before. It fell from his lips like poison, spat out like a fowl curse. It made a shiver up the scribe’s spine and he hoped he would never hear it again.
“Sadly, the royal counsel did not agree, and it was declared that for me to take the throne, I would have to find a bride, one of a high standard. I… It wasn’t too much of a problem when I was younger. We thought we would have time and that I would be able find someone. Arin and I traveled around the land, looking all over for a women I could love. But the years went on and no one captured my heart. Now…”
A choked sound came out of the Prince’s mouth and he hunched over, covering it with a large hand. And though he tried to hide it, Barry still caught the tears welling up in his friend’s eyes, his heart tugging sharply with sorrow.
“My mother and father are ill. They have ruled our quite kingdom for many years, and it seems now that time has taken its toll on them. They sent me here for the winter to try and find a bride one last time. I have begun courting a young woman, but my heart is not in it. She is lovely and kind but can’t love her Barry… I just…”
His words broke off into a sob, the royal so overcome by grief and worry that he could no longer hide it from his companion. As he openly cried into in hands, he was surprised to feel a pair of this arms enclosing him, pulling him to a warm and solid wall. He opened his eyes to find Barry holding him tightly, stroking his crazy mane of hair and making quite shushing noises that remind Dan of how his mother would act when he woke up crying from a nightmare as a child. Slowly, he let himself relax into the younger man’s grip as he tried to calm down. |
b6c5e643b3434435a59f72b2f64ead4a | ['385f495763e04109bad4152040a33ddb'] | "I was reading your book," he sniffed, "And that is the saddest thing I have ever read!" he cried.
Levi could understand that. He was reading is favorite book, _A Series of Unfortunate Events._
Levi felt sorry for the three children himself.
"You don't have to cry, it's just fiction. C'mere," he whispered to Eren, still crying.
_He is such a damn softie._
After much sniffles, and cries, shaking, caresses, and "It's okay" 's later, Eren was just lying in Levi's arms, staring at the ceiling.
"How could the author put up with herself after writing that?" he mumbled.
"I dunno," Levi sighed. "Maybe she went through that."
"Levi!" Eren whined. "You're going to make me cry again!"
"Sheesh, I'm sorry, didn't know you were such a softie," he mused.
"Shut up," Eren whined. "And take me to the bookstore."
Levi grumbled and got up to take him to the bookstore.
He and Eren ended up buying all 13 books of _A Series of Unfortunate Events._
After each chapter he read, Eren could handle himself, but Levi ended up cuddling Eren to sleep from crying 13 times in a row after each book he finished.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Yes, Nowl my dear, I've read all 13. :3
4. Day 4: Gaze
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I want you guys to realize this is going to be exactly like Chapter 4 of Ereri 365 Project, but with some changes.
Eren has always loved watching Levi.
Ever since Levi had started babysitting him, Eren had been enamored with the elegance of the boy seven years his senior. He’d always loved the serious look on his face, the way his long thin limbs moved for him, the way his dark hair sat on his head. But especially, Eren loved his gaze.
He loved that it was always a quick way to figure out what Levi was thinking. Whether any of the rest of him reacted to anything, his gaze always did.
He wouldn’t have admitted it if anyone asked, but Eren sometimes used to have daydreams about he and Levi having a baby.
He imagined the child would have his face and smile, but Levi’s hair and eyebrows. He imagined she was a girl with wide eyes, the same shade of grey and the same range of emotion as her father’s. He imagined the child with the same piercing gaze.
"Hey Eren?"
"Yeah?"
Eren leans on the doorway to the nursery, smiling. Watching Levi is still pretty great, and plenty educating. The short man in question looks up at him with minor annoyance. “Can you please come take her? I’m seriously about to give out.”
Eren smiles a bit wider. “Nope, five more minutes. You’re really cute right now, and this is a good lesson for me."
Levi growls in annoyance and stands up to go hand their daughter over to Eren. “Fucker,” he says as Eren takes her.
Eren just grins. “Love you too, _daddy_.”
Levi grunts. “That just sounds gross coming from you now," he says as he closes the bathroom door.
Eren looks down at the baby girl in his arms, still grinning. “Papa doesn’t sound gross,” he says to her. “Right Zoe?”
The little girl looks nothing like Eren ever imagined; her nose and chin aren’t shaped like his, her hair is a reddish brownish color, and her eyes look nothing like Levi’s. But she’d probably be the most beautiful baby girl he’s ever seen. She coos up at him in response and he laughs.
Levi comes up behind him. “Give me back the hazelnut, it’s your turn to make a bottle.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eren says, handing her over.
He and Levi catch eyes for a moment on the handover and Eren smiles. His daughter is beautiful, but her gaze still only comes in a close second to Levi’s.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you don't mind Nowl. ^^"
5. Day 5: Ghoul
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Tokyo Ghoul AU
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> If you haven't seen the anime, you might not understand at first but if I continue this AU, you'll understand.
"....What?" Eren whispered.
_It couldn't be. No. This is just some dream. I'm still in the hospital bed. Levi checked up on me earlier. This isn't happening. This isn't....happening...._
"So is it true?" the female news reporter asked. "Ghouls cannot eat human food?
Dr. Grisha cleared his throat.
"Yes, Ghouls cannot stand the taste of human food. It is not that they can't eat it, it just has an...unpleasant taste to them," he explained. "Some Ghouls eat human food to blend in to the human world, so you never know who could be a Ghoul...."
The news reporter gasped.
Eren turned off the TV, standing in darkness except a little light through the blinds.
"There's....no...way..." he whispered. "I can't...."
Eren's eyes jolted toward the meal Levi had brought him earlier. He sat down in front of it.
With wide eyes and a trembling mouth, he slowly and hesitantly brought the food to his mouth.
He took a huge, sloppy bite from it.
"Mmrpf!!" he groaned. He covered his mouth with his hands and ran to the bathroom, and emptied his stomach in the toilet.
He coughed several times. "I'm...not...." He ran to the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and grabbed all sorts of food out. He immediately started gouging it.
One bite after the other, he felt sick to his stomach, but tried to hold it back.
_No...I'm okay...._
Eren couldn't hold it in anymore, and stumbled to the sink in the kitchen. He emptied his stomach again, coughing in the process.
"They can't feel pain," he remembered the doctor saying. "Whether it's fire, something sharp, or a kick to the head, they cannot feel it."
Eren stumbled to the nearest drawer, and pulled out the sharpest knife he could find.
He stood back, then drove the knife hard into his skin. | d1756c69737f4ac184de9e0aec0f91b1 | ['385f495763e04109bad4152040a33ddb'] | The man soared across the ice towards him, and Beklan slowly slid their bodies together on the ice and glided while holding the man's back to his front. The man turned around, and slowly slid his hands down Beklan's hips, and back up, bringing them inwards towards his chest. The music played on, but the two skaters had stopped and were staring at each other as the other's man's hands relaxed on Beklan's chest.
The man smirked, a small bout of innocence dancing in his gaze, and leaned towards Beklan's ear.
"Was I good, Vitya?' the man asked with a husky tone that made Beklan shiver even in the dream.
He wanted to respond with a very explicit comment, but instead, dream Beklan sucked on the man's neck and brought them closer. He responded with, "You were only the greatest." in the same tone the man had used before.
The man visibly reddened, and let out a slippery moan as dream Beklan kissed over his neck sloppily. "V-Vitya..." the man moaned out.
Just then, Beklan sprung up from his dream. He grasped the blanket tightly as the lewd image surfaced in his mind. His face felt hot and his breath started to turn quicker.
"What..was that.." he said quietly. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, swinging his feet off of his bed. He switched on his lamp and looked at the time. 05:00.
He yawned and stretched quietly, and a sudden thought came to mind.
"...I wonder why that man was calling me Vitya." _What does it mean? Was that my name?_
He blinked as he heard something walking across his bed, and a small kitten came pattering towards his back. He smiled and picked up the small animal gently.
"Tíe~" he sang, nuzzling against the kitten's soft fur. It mewled softly in response. He yawned again and carried the kitten with him to the bathroom.
It was a slow drive that morning, as Beklan got ready for school in his normal routine and Tíe tried to follow him out of the door once again. Even so, his mind was restless. All he could think about was that dream. How much older he seemed to be. How good he was at skating. The nickname.
That beautiful man. He swears he has seen that man somewhere before.
He tried to nod off the thoughts. He wanted to delve deeper into this, but not before school. People would be creeped out, for sure!
* * *
At school, Yuuri was more than livid.
He was nervous, a little tired, and completely flustered. All because of some weird dream.
_Oh my godddd....._ he thought to himself. A student from class 2-A, Beklan Nikiforov, was clouding his head.
For some reason, he'd had a dream he really did _not_ want to describe in detail, and the man in it looked almost exactly like Beklan. He had barely even spoke to the guy, and suddenly he's in his dreams?
After school, Kaname hadn't been able to go to the library with him because she had to take a retest, and Yuuri almost screamed on the spot. Beklan went to the exact same library everyday, in the exact same area, and he hadn't really noticed, nor cared, until now. His cheeks had stayed flushed as he rocked in the chair and tried with every ounce of strength not to look up at Beklan for the 1000th time.
_Just my luck,_ Yuuri thought nervously. The other male was sitting at the same table he was, 6 chairs down. He looked like he was doing homework. Yuuri swallowed nervously and clenched his pen between his thumbs.
Once again, Yuuri glanced up at Beklan, and this time, regret filled his chest.
Beklan had been looking at him as well, and he had unknowingly caught him in the act.
A beat of silenced passed between the two, and neither looked away as both of their faces reddened more and more. Beklan's hand visibly twitched, then he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear.
"Y-Yuuri KatsukI?" he stuttered nervously.
"E-Eh?" Yuuri stumbled, his head filling with images from last night's dream.
"You're Yuuri Katsuki, r-right? I don't think we've officially met. I'm Beklan Nikiforov.." Beklan's eyes moved up and down Yuuri's body in such a quick motion that Yuuri almost thought he had imagined it.
Beklan stood up and walked over to Yuuri, nervously smiling along the way.
"Beklan...from class 2-A." Yuuri said quietly.
"Indeed.." He held out his hand for Yuuri to shake, and Yuuri's face only grew warmer. _Contain yourself._ he thought to himself.
He softly grabbed Beklan's hand, and he had shaked it, but Beklan still held on afterwards.
Yuuri was afraid to look up, and only blushed deeper. "U-Um.."
Beklan tensed. "S-Sorry." he quietly placed Yuuri's hand into his lap, and stood still, his nervous energy leaking out in pools.
"Do..you want to walk home together?" Beklan said loudly.
A few people in the library looked over at him, but he paid no attention. He was shocked that he had said that, but was more worried about Yuuri's response.
Yuuri's eyes darted up to Beklan's, and his heart started to pound loudly in his chest. he clenched his hands tightly together and looked off to the side. "S-Sure.." he said, almost whispering.
Beklan's heart started to pound as well, and he found himself smiling greatly.
* * *
During the walk, Yuuri had got comfortable enough to start discussing stories from when he was a first year, which made Belkan laugh uncontrollably. They later found themselves in an arcade-restaurant, where Beklan discovered that Yuuri had a godly talent in figuring out and beating video games. He couldn't be more in love.
As the night became late, and Yuuri and Beklan both grew tired, they eventually ate as much food as they could and slowly walked home together.
"That was really nice." Yuuri said happily. |
801ffc42aed7477c8a8cc02679bfff47 | ['38770ce6079849029d8b182f38e4583b'] | Heart Of Green
Mike tossed and turned in his sleep. "You are worthless..." A voice hissed.
"Worthless..." He repeated. He flipped.
"Unworthy... Unloved... they don't care. She doesn't care..."
"She... doesn't... care..." He whispered, then whimpered in pain.
His door creaked open. The yellow ranger padded in with a bowl of water, a towel around her neck, and samuraizer brandished towards Mike. In response, sleeping Mike turned his back to her, but didn't stay there long.
Emily smiled softly.
She set the bowl down, tucked her samuraizer into her pocket, and dipped the towel into the water. She set the towel on his forehead, and he relaxed a bit.
She smiled. She set the towel back in the bowl, and padded out of his room.
\---------------------------------------------
The next day, Mike sat at the breakfast table, stirring his cereal around, a sad and bored look on his face.
"Mike, are you ok?" Kevin asked, worried for his usually cheery friend.
"Fine." Mike muttered unhappily. Jayden and Kevin frowned at the team goof's reply.
"Good morning, every one!" Emily chirped happily. While everyone smiled at the youngest ranger, Mike just seemed sadder than before.
"Mike." Emily said with a frown, sitting beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Are you ok?"
Mike grumbled and shook her hand off. Now Mia was suspicious. Mike usually blushed slightly and grinned when Emily did that.
"Mike, are you sure you're ok?" She asked him.
"I'm fine!" Mike growled.
Mia narrowed here eyes, grabbed him by the arm and drug him into the living room, calling "Mentor!" as she went.
Mentor rushed in. "What is it, Mia?"
"It's Mike." Mia explained, shoving the mentioned onto the couch. "Something's wrong with him."
"I'm fine!" Mike snapped. Mentor frowned, and nodded.
"If you would please leave, Mia." Mentor said. "I need to speak to Mike in peace."
Mia nodded, bowed, and hurried into the kitchen.
Mentor flipped out his samuraizer and waved it over Mike. He hummed. "No nighlock activity." He flipped his samuraizer closed. "You should get some rest Mike."
"I said I'm-" He paused when he saw Mentor's stern expression. "Yes, Mentor." He stood up, bowed, and walked to his room. He flopped dramatically on his bed.
"He doesn't care." A unwanted voice hissed in the back of his head. "He just wants you out of the way."
Mike grumbled the phrase, repeating it as he walked around his room, stuffing things into his old tattered green backpack.
"They don't want me." Mike muttered as he crawled out the window and ran out of the gates.
"She'll never love me." | 25aadb437a894410bec2286cb46cccf5 | ['38770ce6079849029d8b182f38e4583b'] | Mind Of Blue
The mood was sour as Emily walked into the kitchen. "Where's Mike?"
That was the same question Kevin had asked.
"He ran away." Mentor sighed.
"Why?!" Emily raged.
Kevin shrugged. "We're still trying to track him, Emily."
Emily groaned in frustration and went back to her room. She came out in her training outfit, and went to go beat on some dummies.
Kevin sighed. He was frustrated and confused. Mike was a goof, but never unloyal.
He ate his breakfast in peace, and then went to go jog. What he saw on his jog nearly made him fall.
It was Mike, screaming, slashing and kicking a shrub. He held in a snicker, and called, "Mike? is that you?"
Mike glared. "Go away."
"Mike, we've been going crazy trying to find you!" Kevin complained.
"It's only because you need a green ranger to complete the team." Mike replied.
"You're not just some pawn to us!" Kevin said. "We're your friends!"
"You're not!" Mike screamed. "You don't care! None of you!"
Mike disappeared into the trees.
Kevin sighed, and continued his jog.
\-----------------------------------------
Mike was walking around when he saw the nighlock.
"Hey, ugly!" Mike yelled at the monster. "Come get me!"
The monster cackled. "With pleasure!"
Now Mike wished he had taken his morpher. The monster spat green goop on his chest, just as the rangers arrived.
He cried in agony.
"Mike!" Emily yelled. The green goop enveloped his torso. *Why are they caring now?* He thought. *It's only when I'm in danger, isn't it?*
"What are you doing to him?" Kevin ordered.
"Just giving him a little upgrade." The monster had a smirk in his voice.
The green goop enveloped his legs. The goo slowly covered his face. *I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die* He panicked. Then a feeling of control washed over him.
Minutes later, the green goop solidified and broke.
*He'll kill them. Kill them all.*
The Mike standing there wasn't Mike. It was Mike with black smoke radiating around him, and black pits for eyes.
Emily clutched Mike's morpher. Suddenly, Mike put out his hand, and it flew into his hand.
"I'll be needing that." He said, smirking. His voice was eerie and creepy, as if it was going through one of those cheap distortion megaphones.
"Goodbye, rangers." Mike smirked and disappeared.
Emily demorphed and collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face. |
5db0adfa1e5e4c04ab2fc6a1642e0b38 | ['38c3f9a2853d42e2b5eb1cadd05faee8'] | Suddenly the table lamp above his head was on and blocked partially but a mass of messy black hair. Sho looked more tired than usual standing next to him before he took a seat on the floor next to the couch.
"Feeling any better?"
Honestly not really but he tried to look convincing when he nodded that he was. Shouta didn't look all that convinced but did say anything. Silently though he offered a hand clearly in invitation. Hizashi hesitated only a second before carefully taking it in his own but not before looking around to see his Shou's parents were around.
"It's okay. They know. I didn't tell them about us. I wanted to ask you first."
Hizashi nodded but he wasn't really sure what about. He felt sore and awful but strangely also okay. Sho's parents had obviously not called the police on him if he was still in their home holding hands with their son.
"I think my mom wants to murder your dad. He's okay by the way however you feel about that." Sho told him and his tone told Hizashi exactly how he felt about it.
He felt relieved though that his dad was okay despite everything even if it was sentiment his scowling boyfriend didn't share. He smiled at Sho then feeling something lift off him. The other teen got off the floor then and made to join him under the blanket. Hizashi shifted into a seated position to make space for him.
"I rented this movie to watch so we're gonna watch it." He said matter of factly.
As Sho reached for the remote to turn on the TV Hizashi peeked at the case on the coffee table. A snort escaped him before he could stop it earning him a curious look from his boyfriend.
"The Cat Returns? Really?"
"Yup."
Hizashi's life had flipped upside down that night and it had never quite gone back to its original state either. Now a grown man though he was grateful for it and though he'd never really trust his parents again he did attempt to at least keep a semi-civil relationship with them.
Sho's mom now affectionately referred to as Mama had informed him that muzzles had been illegal for years before he was even born and custody of him had been swiftly taken from his parents. He'd been allowed to stay with the Aizawas for the remainder of his schooling years then both he and Sho had moved out into tiny studio apartment. Close by of course because there was a no pet policy in all the places they could afford so the cats had to stay with Sho's parents.
These days though they had a house full to bursting with almost as many cats as there were kids - five in total with a sixth one soon incoming. One such cat, an old fluffy tabby, bathed in the sun on the island counter. They long since given up on policing where she got to be queen and left her be. He did arch a brow at her over the lip of his mug though.
"We're heading out. Bye Dad, bye Papa!"
"Listen to Hitoshi and look both ways before crossing th-"
The door was already shut and most of his kids long gone and on their way to school. He didn't have much time to lament it before his four year appeared around the corner.
"Yuu-kun where are your pants?"
He'd dress the boy not even an hour ago and he was pretty positive he'd put pants on the kid. Ruby eyes blinked at him before the small child ran off down the hallway. With a soft sigh he set his coffee on the counter next to the cat and followed his kid.
"Shou-love Yuuta's stripping again."
"No Pants!"
Hopefully, Nezu wouldn't mind if they were late. | d96ff00a69aa499389e373fab3fb255b | ['38c3f9a2853d42e2b5eb1cadd05faee8'] |
1. Chapter 1
Byleth blinks apathetically over the edge of Rhea's balcony.
From here they can see the steady flow of new students arriving at the Monastery. They are a mix of extravagant nobles and humble commoners - rich and poor. Their father has been busy the past few days making sure the routes to the Monastary remain safe and bandit-free. Byleth hasn't seen him in nearly three days.
"Anyone catch your eye?" Flayn asks draping herself over Byleth's shoulder.
Byleth scans the crowded gateway, "No."
Flayn's cheeks puff in mock frustration before sliding off Byleth's shoulder, "What about that one with the purple hair?"
"He looks rude."
"The girl with blue hair?" She asks again leaning precariously over the edge.
Byleth reachs out to take hold of Flayn's clothing, "Seems tired."
"That blonde boy?" Is Flayn's final attempt.
"I'm surprised he made it up the mountain," Byleth mutters now physically pulling Flayn off the rim of the balcony.
Flayn shakes her head allowing herself to be dragged back into Rhea's chambers. Byleth never seemed to express interest in making new friends or finding love. She couldn't help but be curious if that might change and if it did just who be the one to do so. A matter for another time she supposed escaping Byleth's hold to rush ahead of them inside.
"Will the Entrance Ceremony be tonight, Lady Rhea?" Byleth heard Flayn asking as they followed inside.
Rhea set the hairbrush she'd been using aside and folded her hand in her lap, "Perhaps. We're still waiting on our most anticipated students. The House Leaders for the Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance have yet to arrive."
"Jeralt sent word that suspicious individuals were hanging around Remire Village. The Knights will be deployed to assist should there be problems." Seteth offered never looking up from a handful of reports in his hand.
"Father will be fighting?" Byleth asked coming to stand beside Rhea.
Rhea's fingers wrapped gently around Byleth's easing some of their initial worries, "Tis nothing he hasn't handled many times before. Do not worry child."
"Perhaps we could take a trip to Remire?" Flayn ventured.
At that Seteth finally looks away from his paper, "Absolutely not."
A fierce pout painted Flayn's features, "But if there is nothing to worry about than wants the harm?"
"There is nothing for Jeralt to worry about. For the two of you on the other hand -"
Byleth turned away from the bickering pair to Rhea, "May I go? Please?"
"I'd really rather not have you go wandering into a situation that could turn dangerous Byleth."
Byleth nodded a little put-out - they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves especially against the average ruffian. Still, they couldn't fault Rhea's logic either they supposed.
Rhea sighed, "Perhaps when Alois goes to do his check-in with the Captain you may go along."
Byleth offered the slightiest smile - practically a billboard grin where they were involved.
"You must promise to never leave his sight while you are outside the Monastary." Rhea warned.
"Yes. I promise."
-
To be fair they had kept their promise to the best of their ability.
No one could've predicted that the path would have given out under Byleth's feet. The road had been too dark to really see even with the moonlight and torches. One moment everything was fine and then the next saw Byleth's world spinning out of control.
Suddenly everything was still and silent. The sound of the nighttime wildlife and concerned knights disappearing to be left with nothing. Byleth blinked at the murky darkness around them - near pitch black with a faint greenish glow.
"My, my what is this? Who might you be?"
Byleth blinked again finding themselves staring up at a throne and upon it a green-haired girl. She looked young and yet something about her had Byleth on edge from the moment their eyes met. Something about her felt familiar - as if they'd met her before.
"Well? Are you simply going to ignore me or are you going to tell me your name?"
"I am Byleth." They muttered looking left to right - nothing but darkness.
"Mortal names are still so strange. I shall never get used to them."
"Mortal?" Byleth questioned - it was if this girl thought she was something other whatever Byleth was.
The girl sighed plopping her cheek against a curled palm, "Yes, mortal. But I grow weary. It's about to begin so get on with it then."
Before Byleth could even so much as mutter a response the throne and girl vanished. The sound rushed in assaulting their ears with a cacophony of noise like the whole forest was alarmed by something. Feeling the wet earth soak the back of their clothes Byleth supposed the spring rains had probably done more than just water the local vegetation.
Blinking Byleth took in an experimental breath; blinking up at the shaft of moonlight spilling through the leaves. Getting up proved a challenge; their left knee had some complaints about the fall. Leaning against a nearby tree Byleth tested their weight on the knee. It hurt quite a bit but it would last until they could get back on the road. Hopefully before Alois had to explain losing Byleth to either Jeralt or Rhea - or worse the both of them. After what felt like nearly forever Byleth finally spotted something flickering in the distance. Hoping it was either the Knights or their father's camp Byleth turned towards the light.
Nearing it though proved it was otherwise if the drunken midnight revelry of the thieves was anything to go by. Byleth had dealt with such people before on trips with their father but never alone and injured. They'd have to avoid them if at all possible then. At least that would normally be the plan but this night seemed set on trying Byleth's patience. |
daa7844e41f64a939f086b8cae12b16f | ['38edbf7bc13d4774b6d6c627f2d1164d'] |
Not so Handsome, According to Critics’ lists
**Author's Note:**
> First of all: please don’t hate me.
> I promise this is not as bad as it sounds.
> (Bad tittle, sorry)
People always told him that if he was in this place it was because he deserved it. He does, doesn't he?
He could dance, he could sing, he could act, he could do it, he tried, but that he did it didn’t mean it was enough.
He really tried not to compare himself with others, he really tried because that made him feel worse but at the end of the day he knew that his dancing skills were not that good as Hoseok’s or his vocals that powerful as Jungkook’s or Jimin’s, he knew that he couldn’t even compare his acting skills with Taehyung’s because he hasn’t had the chance to even prove to himself that he was at least good enough at it.
As foolish as it sounded, the only thing he had to brag about was his good looking.
He knew he was not the most handsome boy on earth, he had his insecurities, of course, but he tried, he really tried to prove to himself, to everyone else that at least he was good at being handsome.
How weird, awful, heartbreaking, and humiliating was it was that even being handsome was taken away from you, right?
It was not Taehyung’s fault, he knew it, he does. It was not his fault being lovely and lively and handsome but he couldn’t help feeling bad and selfish and thinking that “hey, that was supposed to be me” it was his only job to be the cute one and visual of the group, you just can’t take away that from him. You can’t.
He was feeling happy for Taehyung, he loves Taehyung. Seeing him so happy and proud made him happy but the members’ constant teasing and compliments towards Taehyung made him feel awkward, out of place, sad because he knew, he saw it in everyone’s faces, the pettiness, the unsureness to talk about the topic in front of him, the reminder that he was taking away the only thing he could brag about, the only thing he is good at.
He felt humiliated because now his fans and members and colleagues would feel pity on him “look, the guy who bragged about being ‘worldwide handsome’ but his band mate was chosen as the most handsome boy in the world”.
It was stupid, it was just a rank, it didn’t mean anything, he didn’t even mean it when he called himself that way, he wasn’t that confident after all, but it made everyone laugh and it made him feel a little bit more confident. He knew he was being selfish, that his feelings were selfish. He just couldn’t help it.
And it was awkward. Everyone were trying to act nonchalant about it after they knew the news but they were just being awkward, tiptoeing around him, trying to choose the right words when talking about it to not hurt his feeling anymore.
The worst part was Taehyung’s awkwardness around him. Taehyung avoiding his gaze and the places where they could be together, as he was feeling guilty for something that was not in his hands, and it felt wrong, so wrong because a title shouldn’t define them but Taehyung knew him so well, and he knew that something as stupid as that could mean a lot to Seokjin.
He sighed as he watched Taehyung enter to the kitchen, stand awkwardly there in the middle for half a minute, take a bottle of water from the refrigerator and leave with a lowered head.
When he looked ahead of him he saw Yoongi watching him, left eyebrow raised
“He keeps acting awkward around me” he said, going back to this bowl of cereal
“Are you planning on talking to him?” Yoongi asked, chewing, bared and tired face.
“I want to but it’s awkward, you know? How can I tell him to not feel bad for being considered more handsome than me” he laughed bitterly
“You’re trying to sound nonchalant about this” he pointed out and Yoongi _knows him_ so well
“I try because what else can I do. I don’t want them to feel pity for me”
Yoongi placed his spoon next to his bowl and massaged his forehead “they don’t pity you. We don’t”
“Yeah, they just don’t know how to approach the fact that I can even do right the only thing I was supposed to” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh as he did.
“Hyung” he moaned “we have talked about this before” Yoongi extended his hand placing it above Seokjin’s one, caressing his crooked fingers “you are talented, you have an amazing voice and soon you are going to prove everyone you didn’t graduate from Arts for nothing”
Seokjin tried not to smile but he failed, how he couldn’t when Yoongi said things like that.
“Why’re you so red?” He teased
“I’m not fucking red, shut up”
Yoongi giggled sweetly, laying the left side of his head on the table, using his free arm as a pillow and looking up at Seokjin with sleepy eyes.
“I’m going to talk to him. I love him. I don’t want him to feel bad, I want him to feel proud of himself” he said sincerely intertwinding his hand with Yoongi, using his free hand to prop his head up.
“He knows you do. Besides, he can be named the most beautiful face but you still being worldwide handsome”
“You’re so cheesy when you’re sleep deprived” he pointed out, blushing.
“You’re the most handsome to me” he added, taking their intertwined hands and placing a kiss on Seokjin’s hand.
**Author's Note:**
> Since I heard the news I wanted to write about this but I didn’t know how to approach this topic, I feel so bad for Jin but not in a bad way??? I feel like people are always comparing Jin’s and Taehyung’s visuals like it is a competition and I hate it.
> I feel (in my very own opinion) Like Seokjin even though he felt happy for Tae he couldn’t help but feel bad and left out, idk :( those are my stupid thoughts, I hope it was just my imagination. It made me feel better to think about Yoongi comforting him since he is always praising seokjin’s vocals improvement <3
> I'm sorry if there were grammatical mistakes or incoherences
> I hope you've liked it.
> Feedback is well appreciated <3
>
> Find me on twitter as @onederlandx | e34d609b4967420d892c62f71af985c3 | ['38edbf7bc13d4774b6d6c627f2d1164d'] | Zitao not only looked like a murderer-ninja-or-something-similar, he also had the skills since now his hands had reached down to the hem of Baekhyun’s jeans and palmed him so well just before unzipping his pants and placing his tight hot fingers tightly around his dick.
“Be quiet” he breathed out against his lips when his dark gaze, pupils so wide, met Baekhyun’s just before lowering himself on his knees.
Baekhyun was speechless, so aroused awaiting the next move and Zitao’s fingers were sending a strong twist of pleasure taking over his body as he started to stroke his shaft in a slow motion.
Baekhyun had his lips pressed tightly together, biting his lips in moments when he tried to avoid the moans from escaping his mouth because they were just outside the doom, pressed against the door where literally anyone could get out of their dorms and see them, and damn it, his friends could open the door at the most unexpected moment and for some crazy reason just that simple thought aroused him even more. Unfortunately he made the mistake of looking down at the right moment to be witness of how Zitao dragged his tongue against the length of his dick, moving his sloppy and pink tongue along the bulge of his vein, and observe how the damn boy even had the nerve to smirk at him while he placed the flat of his tongue against his slit as he licked at the gathered precome pooling there and sucking so wet and hot against his head. Zitao had a fascinating mouth and tongue and fingers and lips and everything about him was fascinating, so much that was leaving Baekhyun breathless.
His big hands were placed on Baekhyun’s hips keeping him in place just as strongly as Baekhyun’s right hand was tangled in his blonde hair as Zitao was bobbing his head up and down.
When he started to feel his release getting close he threw back his head against the door as his left hand came to grip tightly at the doorknob searching for some support, his fingers ached and they were white as his grip was so strong knowing that a wrong move could open the door and make them fall inside. Arching his back and locking his gaze with Zitao’s one more time he let out a helpless moan and then his mouth was locked open incapable of emitting a single sound anymore as he milked his orgasm out of him filling Zitao’s mouth. As expected Zitao’s mouth never left his cock, sucking him clean and jerking him off with his mouth until the last wave of release hit on him. He let go of his cock while licking at his own swollen lips and standing up with a pleased smile he closed the distance and kissed him deeply humming and making him taste himself on Zitao’s tongue.
Baekhyun let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiling — because wow, that had been so reckless and exciting and he was still with his jeans on his knees— he moved away from the door and pulled on his pants as Zitao fixed his hair just before stepping inside the dorm again. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need it; their gazes, content smiles, and pure carnal satisfaction was all they really needed. He stayed outside the dorm for a while waiting for his face to get a little bit less red and for his sex-smell sweat to vaporize. Just before getting inside he saw a new message from KyungSoo which he ignored as it was not more necessary to bother him, not anymore when there was something more interesting on the other side of the door.
Minutes later when he entered to the room, he saw Zitao lying on his bed once again with his cellphone on hands and the bright light illuminating his now red and swollen lips, Baekhyun smiled to himself and couldn’t evade feeling the heat still on his red face.
When we looked up he noticed Jongdae watching him with a curious look on his face but said nothing, he was still sat on the pillows on the floor in front of the tv, potato chips and can of beer on his lap and no signs of Chanyeol and Sehun. Baekhyun dropped himself down beside Jongdae taking the controller on hands. “They’re in the bathroom,” said Jongdae just before he asked. If he paid special attention he could hear hushes and chuckles coming from the bathroom (what were they? Hormonal teenagers?) that everyone tried to ignore with the sound of guns and punches coming from the tv screen, probably that’s why Jongdae had the volume even louder than the last time, trying so hard to focus on the game.
Fifteen minutes later when the shameless couple decided to get out of the small bathroom and started chatting like nothing had happened everyone joined them in their act because it was better like that.
After a while with all the attempts of Chanyeol to try to include Zitao more in their conversation with his loud noises and laugh and bad jokes, laughing he asked him to tell Jongdae and Baekhyun how they had met because “it was so fucking epic”.
Zitao clearing his throat said “I accidently saw you blowing Sehun” he had this weird cute flush on his cheeks and his voice was smoother this time, so soft just like the look in his eyes and his smile, and yeah it was weird to see him flushing when talking about something related to blowjobs instead of flushing for the act itself and then again there was Chanyeol’s loud, so loud laugh and creepy smile like he had said the funniest thing ever — seriously there was something bad with him— which earned him a rather hard hit on the upper arm by Sehun. |
cb36ee7264294f2bb9764577cde7a86d | ['38fec1fb8b674bd7bc59d08bcbd20cdd'] | When Jack could see again, Chuck was gone.
Later, when he’d returned to the bunker, he’d been filled with new resolve. And what might have been hope.
It had been a long time since he’d felt that. He hadn't known he _could_ still feel that.
He’d stood at the centre of that binding circle, with all the remaining power of Creation held inside - the last pieces of his humanity mixed with the last power of the angels, and the power of God himself. It sat strangely within him, like all of his separate parts wanted to escape, to burst free into something new.
So he’d pushed, with all of that power, shaping it around the lost edges of Heaven. And he tried.
He tried for days, dropped down to his knees, trying to repair what Chuck had once made. Trying to restore what was. To trace around the edges of what used to be there and bring it back. But, scattered as it was, his power wouldn’t obey. Or couldn’t. In Jack’s hands, it was simply shapeless potential.
He needed help. He couldn’t do this alone.
There was no point calling for Chuck again. Or the other primordial power, his sister. Sam had almost tried to call _her,_ after Chuck had failed to show, but Jack had prevented it. His Grandfather and Grand-aunt were bound to each other once more, Jack knew, from stories Castiel had once told him, but Amara had no leverage over the thing they fought. She was chaos, the energy of destruction, made of shadow. She would only hasten the end.
And that dual presence was gone anyway, Chuck and Amara resigned to their fate. That passing on of power had been a farewell of sorts, a letting go.
Jack was alone, of course, in bearing the last light left in the world.
So Jack reached out, and made that power into a sharp point, piercing it right at the barrier that separated him from Castiel. Pushing it hard, as hard as he could.
It should have worked. This was more power than anyone had every wielded. It was the power of God. It should have worked.
It didn’t.
Like a cold stone placed in the core of him, Jack had his answer. There was no power that would break that barrier. No force, no device, no special ritual. None. Still, he kept trying. He refused to stop trying.
After six days of it, even Sam had noticed something was wrong.
But it was Dean that had tried to stop him, figuring out his intentions before he’d truly known them himself.
There were no more options. “There’s no happy ending, for either of us,” his mother had told him, when she’d been carrying him. She’d been right. There wasn’t happiness here, in this dying world. But there might be something beyond that ending.
What else was left?
So Jack had broken the barrier between Creation and Nothing. But not through grace, or any other power. He did it the old way.
After all, they still had his father’s blade. Safely stored. Golden, clean. No hint of the deaths it had caused along its winding length.
Using it on himself had been easy.
Dying had been easy, the trip across to oblivion simple, brief. Painless. And laden with power as he was, heavy with all that grace, the Shadow welcomed him like an old friend. It had been eagerly awaiting this, after all, certain of his arrival to its long silence.
It had hidden Castiel, of course, knowing his mission. And it hid from him too, letting Jack glimpse its liquid darkness without ever letting him get near. Letting him waste his strength on navigating a space with no direction, no meaning. Nothing.
Ceaseless, timeless, shapeless. Jack existed there through sheer will alone. In the eternity of it, the urge to lie down and not be was so strong.
He fought it.
He would always fight it, though all of his grace, all of his power was useless here, in the antithesis of being. The power of Creation too, that meant nothing here, where there was _nothing_ to create. But Jack had brought something with him that the Empty had never seen. Something so bright against that endless black that it lit the tens of thousands of sleeping beings that resided there, and woke them from their slumber.
The last sliver of his soul.
The thing that lived here didn't like that. The Shadow.
_Souls can not be here_ , it whispered, wearing Castiel's face. _Souls are part of Creation._
The last glimmer of Jack's had apparently escaped its notice, until it was too late and he’d entered its realm. As long lost angels and demons trailed behind him, drawn to its light, the Shadow fled.
God, it had known. And understood.
Jack was something new altogether. And it feared him.
Hunting it down was easy, now that he saw its weakness. The brightness dissolved it, made it thin. It hid itself, but Jack was there, a being. A part of Creation. Existence, in a place that should have none.
Devouring it was easy too. Consuming its power, the way he had Michael’s. Destroying the paradox of its living essence, and combining it with his own. Breathing in that liquid Nothing, the way he'd consumed the light of Creation.
Easy.
It made him powerful. Powerful enough to reshape reality. Or unmake it. Maybe even more powerful than God.
And it made him understand. The black ink of it flowed around the white energy of creation, filling its gaps, settling together against Chuck’s gift. The way it was meant to.
The darkness of it was so familiar. His Grand-aunt, he realised. This was where she’d been born. In the dark. From all of this. | 923d02ec3def4066a8734aac8f9c52d8 | ['38fec1fb8b674bd7bc59d08bcbd20cdd'] | His Grandfather too. The two of them had begun here, outside of everything. They’d found their power in this place, and when Chuck had created something beyond it, he’d led his sister through with him. And they’d left, drawn together and split apart by what Chuck had done. What Chuck had made, out of nothing. His power was light, but it had once been dark too. Creating had changed him, somehow. Whereas Amara had remained a shadow. Darkness.
They had _all_ come from nothing. From the void. At the start of it all.
There had been a third sibling too. A forgotten one. That first Shadow that had come before any of them, far too old to transform the way the youngest of them had, the way Jack’s Grandfather had. The oldest of them, far too proud to submit to the mess of Creation, and join its siblings.
That being was left behind, to go mad on its own without them. To preside over the bits of dying Creation that leaked back into this realm, the departed angels and demons slumbering as Chuck’s world ran its course. To be tormented by its inability to have what Chuck, and eventually Amara, had. What all of those dead angels, and even most of those demons had.
What Castiel had.
Connection. Family.
A home.
It had been lonely. No wonder it had wanted to sleep. Oblivion was so much kinder.
But he’d woken it up, when he’d reached out to Castiel, here. It had tried to send the angel away, and return to its slumber, but Jack’s continued presence would not allow that.
So It had tried to bring Jack here, to put him to sleep, but Castiel had stood in its way, mocking it with his _love_ and _devotion_ for Jack. Finally, it had pulled apart the source of its torment. It had torn away Castiel, and scattered him as far as it could. As far away from _itself_ as it could. And lured Jack here, on his own, to meet his end.
This was why it had destroyed Heaven and Hell, destroyed any hope of home. Why it had broken the world.
To preserve its own sanity.
And not just this world. All worlds were dying. Jack could see them now, in the same state as his own. Their dead were here too among the rest, awakened by the light of his soul.
They would all come back to here in the end. Into silence. Into peace.
It was easier that way. If Creation itself were quiet, the Shadow could finally sleep.
Jack understood now. He was here too now, with that same power. That same darkness.
He was just as alone as it had been.
All around him were the dead of Heaven, shadowy as they ringed him. Some, he recognised. Some had been friends.
Some had not. Michael was there, the one he had ended, watching him. Come to conquer Jack’s world, and now claimed by it. At his side stood Gabriel, whom he'd briefly known. There were others, an uncle he'd never met. So many nameless angels. And some more that he had ended, while trying to find this place. They didn't seem to hold any judgement, any of them. They were just waiting.
Even the demons kept their peace - patient, dark, smokey shapes that were still brighter than the backdrop of Nothing behind them.
And behind those, in the deepest part, red eyes glowed against the darkness.
_Lightbringer._ Something they did have in common.
None of the dead beings seemed to see each other. And when he'd tried to talk to them, to ask where Castiel was, they'd just continued to stare, unblinking. Waiting.
Waiting to see what he would do.
His conquest of the Empty had been easy. Finding Castiel, though. That wasn’t just hard. It was impossible.
He’d been hidden too well. Scattered into the barest pieces, the vague echo still bearing that unreachable fondness, that thing that had drawn him here. But it was a fading promise, the very act of pursuing it pushing it further and further away.
There was no way forward. Nothing behind, nothing ahead. Just nothing.
The doorway back to Sam and Dean was lost, a blade through its heart. There was no returning, anyway. The thing he’d become, part-light and part-dark, could not exist in that old place. He was too large for it.
He did not fit here either, his brightness too alien to allow for any sense of peace. He’d always been that way, halfway between things. Half-angel, half-human. Half-alive, half-dying. Half-God, and half-forgotten. He belonged nowhere.
Which was fitting. _This_ was nowhere.
He wanted to sleep. To drift away. But he could not. It was that tie to his old life. It was distracting.
The world he had come from was still there, a fading, distant presence. It continued to die, and with the final clarity of this timeless place Jack saw that he would never be able to use this new power, or any power, to save it. He would never be able to recreate what Chuck had wrought - that was not his to make. That time had been had. His friends would be lost, the ones he loved would be lost.
He could consume it all, though. He could. And let it be truly done with. He could become the Empty, and let them become Nothing. Just black, pure silence. He could let them all sleep, and they’d never know fear, or pain. They’d simply be at peace.
It was his nature, after all, to end things.
But Castiel hadn’t believed in that. He’d believed in something good. He’d believed that Jack’s power would one day save them.
_Castiel_ , he shouted across the void.
There was no answer.
But from the far off dwindling of the world that had birthed him, something familiar buzzed against an old memory of a fast, black car.
_Jack._ |
906029cdb8fd4f1fa2be023b2a558318 | ['3916c328d3f446df9496a8159eaff71c'] |
What Baking Can Do
It’s not weird.
After everything that happened at the corporate technical expo, this doesn’t even rank highly as on the levels of weird. A riot, a back alley with Lacy, Hopps, and Anton, some random passersby, a flash of light, superpowers, and now here they are back at work as though nothing at all had happened.
So, no, as far as weird goes, it’s not that weird.
Of course she recognizes some of her regulars at the bakery.
Lacy has pointed out that Luma doesn’t remember all of their orders the way that she does with some regulars but no one can blame her for taking note of the particularly nice customers, right? The more nice interactions that she has with someone, the more likely she is to remember their name and their order. That just makes sense.
The unusually kind customers happen to stand out just as much as the horrifically rude, snippy customers that frequent the shop every day. The kind, amiable ones hold conversations with her, flash their smiles, laugh at her mediocre jokes, and just overall treat her like a human being worthy of their attention and respect even during these brief encounters. The rude ones always have some type of complaint about her, her behavior, the establishment itself, the other customers, or some unnecessary combination of those.
Unfortunately, she’s been dealing with the latter of those for almost ten minutes now.
“Ma’am, I’m very, very sorry but, as I’ve said before, we just don’t have anymore croissants in stock this morning.” Luma repeats in that forcedly level voice that she’s been wearily maintaining. As the woman raises her voice even louder, one hand on the counter next to the register and a finger pointed way too close to her face, Luma glances sideways in the direction of the manager. Fawn is finding way too much amusement in just watching Luma have to deal with this irate, entitled jackass.
When the front door to the bakery opens and closes with a familiar voice and bright laughter, Luma can’t help but let her attention shift over in that direction even as the customer continues to shriek in her directly about the customer service, how she’s acting, how she looks, what her job is, on and on and on. A little thrill rises in her chest because, yes, this is Cass coming around for her regular visit.
Cass has been coming to the bakery for a couple of months now. Sometimes there’s this beautiful woman with truly impeccable style that she hears Cass address as Oya with her, sometimes she comes in alone, sometimes there’s a couple of other strangers that come around with her. Oya comes around most often with Cass and, from what Luma’s seen of them, they seem to be as close to each other as she is with Lacy.
Oya’s here but she’s not the only one with Cass today.
Oya and the other woman break off to sit at a table while Cass focuses in on the woman still shrilly yelling in her face. Luma feels heat climb up her neck, eyes snapping away from the woman who herself has gone red in the face from the tantrum that she’s throwing. This was not exactly her finest, most suave moment to be caught in. Usually when Cass comes in Luma tries to be casually busy and ready to talk with her.
“Hey!” Cass is right there in front of her and facing the angry woman. Her shoulders are rolled back, chin tilted up, and brow furrowed in clear displeasure. “Obviously you’re upset and whatever but, seriously, can you fuck off with all of this bullshit? She has a job to do and you’re making an asshole out of yourself.”
The woman stares, red-faced and trembling with rage, right at Cass.
After a long minute of opening and closing her mouth like a gobsmacked fish, she finally turns on her heel and marches right out of the front door. A quick glance at Fawn shows that her manager is sadistically displeased at having her entertainment shut down early. With a huff and narrowed eyes, Fawn disappears back into the kitchen.
“You okay?”
Luma snaps her attention back to Cass who looks frustrated, hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket, but concerned. She doesn’t even have superpowers but still manages to pop right in at the perfect time to get her day back onto a better track without having to listen to that woman screech about her every negative quality for another fifteen minutes.
“Yeah, yes. I’m good, uh, thank you! What can I get for you? And it’s on the house. Just as a thank you.” Luma finds herself rambling through just a fraction of the words that she wants to say to Cass. She’s usually so much better than this at social interactions but, well, this is Cass.
Cass, the customer, she reminds herself with a sheepish smile. Just another friendly customer whose name she happens to know and whose best friend she recognizes. Which, again, isn’t weird. Cass is just a friendly person with a demeanor that reminds her of Hawk at a glance. That’s probably the biggest reason that Cass stands out. The stark similarities to someone she loves just make Cass stand out more prominently than most others, that’s all. Totally not a weird thing.
Cass scrunches her nose up for a moment, “You don’t need to do that. I don’t get why everyone else let that go on for so long anyway.”
“Yeah, well…” Luma wishes she could say that she’s surprised that no one stepped in, “I want to do it anyway. No more arguing! You’re going to get a free drink whether you like it or not.”
“Oh, uh, thanks then!” Cass grins, one of her hands moving to rub the back of her neck in what seems like a self-conscious way. | 9659a98a65e34574b1dc6227dff586fd | ['3916c328d3f446df9496a8159eaff71c'] |
1. Cass
It started with a duffel bag.
There was nothing interesting about it. Standard size and shape. A once deep blue color had long been weathered down. The straps were worn and frayed. A pair of stitched initials were sewn into the end pocket with a patch of the number six threatening to come loose at the smallest irritation. It must’ve been some kind of athletic bag once upon a time but its current owner appeared to be anything but an athlete.
With the straps tightly wound around his thin wrists, he hefted the weight of the bag as much as he could onto his shoulder. His shoulder sagged beneath the pressure, his body staggering to one side. Though strangers, adults, came to ask him more than once if he wanted any help with his bag, he waved them off every time. When they tried to ask him questions about where he was going or where his parents were, he didn’t answer and they would eventually continue on their way.
Finally, the boy stood by the entrance of one of the city’s many banks. With sweat creeping down his back and neck, he stood silently before the door. He stared inside, ignoring the confused looks of several entering and exiting patrons. Odd as it may be, he shuffled from side to side and kept chancing glances around as though waiting for someone.
A clock in the window flickered and changed to display that it had just become noon. He bent over, steadily unzipping the duffel bag as a security guard on duty finally decided to come check out what he was doing. Imbalanced under the weight of solid metal cradled against his skinny chest, he lifted the barrel of the plasma rifle and fired directly into the approaching guard’s chest.
It was tragic, the news reported after the fact. It was truly a tragic crime with a number of casualties and no known motive that anyone could decipher. Who, after all, would expect an otherwise happy boy of nine to open fire on a bank? How had he gotten his hands on law enforcement grade weapons? How had no one noticed his odd behavior beforehand? Why had no one reported it to the police before the incident had a chance to take place? Why hadn’t the city’s new so-called ‘heroes’ shown up to stop it from happening at all?
The talking heads of every talk show eagerly dove into the tragedy but even they knew that the public interest in the event would come and go quickly. It would spark a conversation nationwide that would ultimately fade into discontented white noise as everyone moved one from the unfortunate but solitary incident.
They all spoke of copycats when the next incident took place days later at a coffee shop. Discussions of other kids wanting the infamy and coverage, disillusioned with the realities of their lives now that the world around them was changing with the arrival of supposed superbeings and a rippling political landscape. Spokespeople for and against the passing of Measure Z gave their takes on how the measure’s popular vote was affecting kids, linking in whatever agendas they could.
Another tragic incident. It faded all the same.
When two teenagers executed perfectly coordinated attacks down to the minute in restaurants at different parts of the city, the news started to take a different tone. So strange, they said, that all of these kids with no warning signs would do these things. Even stranger, they collectively continued across each channel, that they should suddenly be coordinated. Almost unnaturally so.
Three college students at a Cassium fundraiser. A pair of pre-teens in a formerly corporate park. Three more teenagers had a go at the Pyramid Star corporate building but were overpowered. A single seven-year old.
In total, thirty kids between the ages of seven and twenty-one in thirteen separate attacks. Corporate security was heightened once it became obvious that corporate centers were being overwhelmingly targeted. The attacks had died down somewhat and the surviving perpetrators all said the same thing: it was like a nightmare. Whispers in the back of their mind that became louder and louder until they suddenly knew what they had to do. No control.
The news shut off suddenly.
Cass glanced over her shoulder towards where Lacy sat in front of a one of Blue Dolphin’s many sets of monitors. She had no idea what any of them said but her eyes were trained on the slight trembling of Lacy’s hands. Luma was leaning in close, hand on their arm, and murmuring something undoubtedly reassuring.
Luma was the best at calming Lacy.
Actually, Luma was the best at calming any of them. She’d proved it time and again. Her voice was always low and soothing, but firm enough not to question. Her hand had found Lacy’s to ground them in what she was saying rather than what they were thinking.
Not that Cass could blame them for being upset. With the rumors of some super being being the real perpetrator behind these attacks, it had gotten personal for all of them.
Newscasters had jumped at the chance to try to stoke fears that all superbeings, especially the ones who had already spent so much time in the public eye, should be subject to all of their suspicions. After all, who could say whether they might be the ones causing tremendous damage to the city next? With the unnatural abilities that they had displayed, who could say whether or not they might be behind the attacks themselves?
Many had pushed back against the claims but the idea had been put out there into the world and the damage was done. The infection of that fear festered in the open wound of everyone’s fear.
Wait.
She was still staring at Luma.
Luma’s lips curled into a quizzical half-smile. She’d returned to her sewing machine though she seemed to have paused in anticipation of Cass saying something.
Woops. |
69e0bfbef7bf4aa7bed8887cd841ab9a | ['3922962bcaff4bac86d285c85e258e27'] | Just before we were dismissed Four had told us to meet at the train tracks the next morning. All he’d said was that we were going on a field trip and if we were late we would be factionless. Judging by Uriah’s response, the Dauntless born aren’t going to tell us where we’re going either.
“Are we going back to Navy Pier?” Christina asks Lynn, hoping to get it out of her. I’m not sure what part of Lynn’s personality has given Christina the impression that she’s the one who’s going to crack, yet I can’t help but admire her unfounded optimism.
“No.”
“The Hub?”
“No.”
“The Food Supply?”
“No.”
“…um…”
“The fence!” Marlene snaps, even as the rest of the Dauntless born shoot her dismayed looks. “We’re going to the fucking fence.”
“We’ll be going to Amity to get to the Fence.” Four says as he walks over to us, catching on to our conversation. He shoots me a meaningful look and I nod in recognition. I may have grown up in Amity, but I’m in Dauntless now and I need to act like it if I want to stay here. I can’t show any attachment to my former faction or else it will reflect very poorly upon me and my loyalty to my new faction.
Uriah shoots me a sympathetic look, following the same train of thought as I did. The others talk amongst themselves, speculating on what it is they’ll get to see at the Fence and expressing their excitement at getting to leave the compound for a few hours. He sidles up beside me and speaks low so as to avoid being overheard.
“The Dauntless born also struggle.” He confides and I’m surprised to hear this. “A lot of us have family members out there guarding the fence, we can’t seem too attached to our families or it calls into question the reasons why we chose to stay. My mom’s out there, Lynn’s sister is out there, Marlene’s uncle…we miss them, too.” I don’t need to ask to whom he is referring when he says too and I shoot him a grateful look.
Sometimes it’s nice to know you’re not alone in your feelings.
I spot headlights in the distance then and someone shouts that the train is coming. We all break into a sprint, throwing ourselves up onto the train with relative ease. I don’t even stumble this time, giving Uriah a high-five as he watches me with a hint of pride.
“What do you think is out there?” Tris asks us as she stares out at the moving landscape, framed by the slowly rising sun. Her expression is pensive as she watches the stretch of land beneath the lightening sky. “Beyond the fence.”
“Amity farms.” I tell her, not missing the pitying look she shoots me when she hears the wistful tone to my answer. It’s much harder than I anticipated to go back to Amity, having resigned myself to the fact that it would never happen long ago. If I choose to guard the fence, it will be where I spend most of my time. I imagine it could be nice to be back home, but it would be much worse to be there without truly being able to be there. I imagine I’d feel like a stranger in my own home and even though I know I couldn’t stay in Amity, I don’t ever want to feel like that.
“I know that, I meant past the farms. What are we guarding the city from? What’s out there?”
“Monsters?” Christina proposes and we all laugh at the absurdity of it.
“There weren’t guards at the fence until five years ago.” Will says, his voice taking on that tone it always does when he’s reciting something from a book. “Remember how the Dauntless would police the factionless sector instead?”
I don’t, but I do remember the day Dauntless first showed up at Amity on their way to the fence. One day they just walked by and then they kept on coming. I had watched them like a hawk, fascinated but never thinking that I could one day be them.
“I’m sure you saw them out there all the time when you walked by the factionless on your way to school.” Will says to Tris and we all shoot him startled looks.
“What, did you memorize a map of the city for fun?”
“Yes,” Will’s reply is innocent and he looks genuinely confused, “didn’t you?”
“Nope.” Uriah says matter-of-factly, patting Will on the back with a grin. “That was just you, my friend.”
We don’t say anything more as the train begins to lurch as it starts to slow down. My chest tightens as I take a peek outside as we make our approach. The dilapidated black and grey buildings of the city have given way to the bright yellow and green fields near Amity. I’m not yet able to see the exact fields and orchards that were my home, but the longing in my heart is all the same.
The train comes to a stop beneath a white awning and we all jump out into the field. The grass comes all the way up to my hips and I run my fingers over the tops as tickles my fingers, suddenly struck by the overwhelming urge to do something stupid like cry. I return my hand back to my side and I see Four give me an imperceptible nod of approval at my withdrawal. | 6bf1eaeca94946ba81f7c81cb5fc5d2e | ['3922962bcaff4bac86d285c85e258e27'] | The fight continues on like this, him throwing halfhearted punches I dodge easily. It isn't until Eric barks at us to quit messing around that Will gets into it. We both seem to come to the same conclusion, that it would be better for us if he just ended it. I nod to him, giving him permission. Knowing I gave consent doesn't lessen the impact as his fist collides with my face. I crumple immediately, blacking out.
I wake to find Tris standing over me, relieved. She steps out of the way and Four takes her place, crouching down to ask if I'm alright. He tells me I wasn't out long enough to need a trip to the infirmary, but if I feel bad enough he'll take me. I refuse, insisting that I'm fine as he helps me up.
"That's it for today." Four announces. Eric stands by the chalkboard, looking at us coolly. "Be in the training room at six sharp tomorrow morning, tell your fellow initiates. Don't be late."
We all move slowly, heading for the door. We're all a bit banged up and bruised, even those who won their fights. No one says a word, too exhausted for small talk. I startle when Eric steps in front of me, forcing me to stop. His face is blank, but it's clear that he is ordering me to stay.
My friends shoot me questioning looks, but I wave them ahead. They hesitate, but one look from Eric sends them on. Four looks uneasy as he glances at us, but he says nothing as he leaves the room. Eric steps away from me once he's gone, walking over to the chalkboard. He erases it and begins to rewrite our names, this time grouping those who won and those who lost in separate sections. I stay silent, rooted to the spot where he stopped me. I have no idea what he wants from me, but I wish he'd just spit it out already.
"I'm disappointed in you, initiate." He finally speaks, his voice cold. "You showed such promise."
I don't know what he wants me to say, so I say nothing. He doesn't seem to mind my silence, carrying on.
"Your friend went easy on you. Points will be deducted from his score for that." I'm angry, but I don't say anything. I don't want to make this worse. "Do you think you're still in Amity?"
"Of course not." I respond, confused by his line of questioning.
"You hesitated to throw a punch. Even once you finally did muster up the courage, you seemed to regret it."
"Well, I don't exactly enjoying beating up my friends."
"You're weak, there's no risk of that." I scowl, biting my tongue. "Should I only be pairing you with the initiates you dislike? Will you actually stand a chance then?"
"I thought I was weak." I retort, sarcastic. "How would fighting someone else change that?" Eric's eyes flare and he walks over to me so quick I blink and then he's only inches from my face.
"You are on very thin ice here." He warns me, glaring fiercely. "You could do well, if you actually tried. If you're not going to try, then you don't deserve to be here."
"What's so bad about not wanting to fight my friends?" I snap, unable to keep my mouth shut any longer. I think maybe I’ve been around Christina for far too long. "Shouldn't we be using our strength to fight actual threats, not taking pleasure in beating each other up for your amusement?"
"When a real threat comes along, they won't go easy on you like your friend did!" He shouts. "You need to practice now, in a controlled environment, while you have the chance! Sometimes you have to fight, even the people you care about, in order to keep yourself and others safe! You're in Dauntless now, not Amity. You're not neutral, you fight to keep the peace. If you are unwilling or unable to do that, then you should leave us now."
I'm silent as I process his words. Though I’m loathed to admit it, he makes excellent points. We're not fighting each other for the fun of it—although I'm quite sure it's fun for Eric. We're fighting each other because we need to learn how to fight against other people. There will come a time when we must fight to ensure the safety of ourselves or another person. If we can't put in the effort now, when we're in a controlled environment fighting people we know will only hurt us so much, how can we be expected to hold our ground when a real threat comes along? We can't.
But, Eric is still cruel. I can't forget that.
"Why did you hang Christina over the chasm?" I ask him. He looks surprised, clearly not expecting this question, but he answers anyway.
"Because you all need to learn to never give up. When you're out there, fighting for real, concession means death for you, or for someone else. Dauntless don't give up, ever."
We're both silent, facing one another as his words sink in. I have no rebuttal, knowing he's right. I don't agree with what he did, but I did learn from it and I'm sure everyone else did as well. I turn, heading for the door when it seems like he has nothing else to say.
"Oh, and Indie?" He speaks, just as I'm about to leave.
"Yes?"
"Peter steps forward right before he punches."
"Why are you telling me that?" He smirks, like it's so obvious.
"Just something to keep in mind."
* * *
The next few days begin just as the others—early. We start with a run, the same route as on our second day. I continue to keep pace with Four at the front of the group. When we return to the compound, we practice shooting before lunch and then fight in the afternoon. |
aa2ae03b7e184822be4c294a999fad4f | ['3955afdd5d6441a9be0363edaf647ee7'] | “I thought we were gonna have him take a message back to his freak friends.”
“They’ll get the message clear enough when they see what’s left of ‘im.”
“I guess, but I thought—“
Molly never found out what the man thought, because the end of his sentence was swallowed up in a booming crack of thunder, and then all three men stopped paying any attention to Molly at all. Their gazes were riveted at the figure at the entrance of the alleyway, and though his eyes wouldn’t quite focus, Molly recognized Yasha with such relief he nearly cried.
Yasha stepped forward into the alley, another bolt of lightning briefly illuminating her face, and the man with the knife let go of Molly’s horn and took an instinctive step back. Her eyes were pitch black. Her hand went to the hilt of the sword on her back, and all three men moved back another step.
“I’m going to walk over to my friend,” she said, and her voice wasn’t loud but it carried clearly over the thunder. “You _really_ don’t want to still be here when I do.” Another flash of lightning and Molly saw _something_ – wings?! – silhouetted around Yasha’s form. Shadows, darker than the rest of the night, began to drift off of them. All three men turned and ran, scrambling, down the alley and away, fear in their eyes as they turned back to look, just once, before vanishing into the night.
As soon as they were gone, Yasha hurried over to Molly. She was like a completely different person – the shadowy wings and black eyes had vanished like a dream, and the vicious, barely-contained fury in her face melted away to soft concern. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and went to help him sit up.
“Molly? Are you – will you be all right?”
Molly tried for his usual rakish grin, but was only able to offer a weak half-smile. “I will be, my dear. Thanks to you.”
“Can I…?” She trailed off, not sure how to offer what she didn’t know how to describe. “Let me help." Her hand on his shoulder felt faintly warm, and as she placed her other hand on his crushed tail, he saw that it was glowing faintly as well. He felt a little better – not much, but enough to be able to pull up a real smile for her this time.
“You are a woman of many talents, it seems.”
“Oh, I don’t – I can’t…”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Yasha. Just – thank you. Can you help me up?” She did so, slinging one of his arms around her shoulders and wrapping her own around his waist, taking most of his weight as they began to walk. The rain finally caught up to the thunder as they went, and Molly blinked as he felt Yasha pull him closer as if to shield him from it.
“This is an awful place,” she murmured.
“We’ll be well rid of it, honestly. This time tomorrow it’ll be a speck on the horizon.”
As they made it to the edge of the circus’ campsite, Yasha began to look around for someone who could take word to Gustav to get the carts packed up, and gently eased Molly down to sit by the fire. “Wait here, I’ll go beg a potion off Ornna.” She pulled off her shrug and wrapped it around Molly’s shoulders, somewhat tattered but warm. Molly caught her hand before she pulled away, just for a moment.
“Yasha? How did you know where to find me? How did you know I was in trouble?”
Yasha’s cheek twitched, almost, _almost_ a smile.
“I guess I just had a feeling.” In the distance, the storm rumbled once more. | 1087c357d2894fa5a6a2bede3823e41d | ['3955afdd5d6441a9be0363edaf647ee7'] | Roommates
It comes up as they’re getting ready for breakfast one morning at the Leaky Tap – Jester looks at her and says, “You know, Beau, I think you are the best roommate I’ve ever had!”
Beau rolls her eyes, making sure Jester is watching her expression as she does so. “I’m the _only_ roommate you’ve ever had, Jes. You told me that yourself.”
“Well. Yes. But even so! You are an extra _super_ -good roommate.”
Beau thinks she knows what this is about. Jester had gone to bed early the night before, taking a glass of milk up to their room to drink while she drew her daily pictures to the Traveler, while Beau stayed downstairs and drank ale with the others (‘Like a _normal person_ ,’ Beau thinks). She had opened a window to air out the stuffiness of the room, but by the time Beau went up to bed, Jester was asleep and the room had gone from ‘pleasantly cool’ to ‘actually pretty chilly’ with a side of ‘surprisingly windy.’ It wasn’t a hardship for Beau to just reach up and close it. She didn’t want to sleep in the cold either. And if shutting the window also _happened_ to ensure that the wind didn’t topple the remainder of the milk in her cup all over Jester's carefully-curated sketchbook, well, that’s fine too.
It’s not worth mentioning, of course, that the night before that, Beau had found Jester’s bottle of expensive ink left open and fastened it with the cork. Better than listening to Jester complain about it drying out, it’s not like closing a bottle of ink is _hard_ or anything.
Also not worth mentioning was the way Beau had added ‘checking on Jester’ to her night’s routine. It’s just that, between her restless legs and very energetic tail, the cleric winds up tangled in her blankets sometimes, and it’s only the work of a moment to tug them straight again. It’s not like she’s going _out of her way_ or anything, doing these things. Jester just has really low standards.
It’s not until they’ve gotten settled at their table and ordered breakfast (eggs and bacon for Beau, the usual pile of pastries for Jester) that Beau nudges Jester with her elbow and remarks, “You are too, y’know. Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
Jester’s face lights up, and then turns suspicious. “Am _I_ the only roommate _you’ve_ ever had, too?”
“You’re actually not. I’ve had uh…” Beau does a quick mental tally, “three others, I think. Yeah. No, wait – no, yeah, three.”
Their food is served and as she takes a huge bite of her doughnut, Jester asks, “How am I better than them?” She somehow manages to _chew_ expectantly.
“Fuck, I don’t know. It was at the Cobalt Soul, y’know, they were, like, monks and shit. They don’t like me over there. Buncha sticks up their asses. Rooms were assigned, and after like a week they’d get sick of me and ask to be moved. After I scared the third one off, I think they kind of gave up. It would’ve been nice, you know, having my own place, more room for my shit, if I, like…. had shit.”
“You don’t, um, want your own place now, do you? Only, if you get more stuff I could definitely probably make more room! I’m only all spread out because you, um, you don’t have a lot. You know you can borrow any of my things if you want!”
“That’s sweet, Jester. I don’t think any of your clothes are exactly my _style_ but it’s a nice offer. Nah, this works for me. If I have a problem, you’ll know about it. Trust me.”
“I think probably _everybody_ will know if you have a problem.”
“Exactly.”
At that moment, Nott and Caleb walk into the tavern, with Fjord and Molly not far behind, and Jester begins excitedly waving them over to the table (as though this wasn’t their usual table, as if they needed the guidance) and the barmaid comes back over to see what they want for breakfast, and soon the conversation has turned to making plans for the day. Beau chimes in long enough to place a vote for “finding another job listing that involves fighting a thing,” and sits back to let the others work out the details. She should remember to tell Fjord later, she thinks, that she managed a compliment without shoving her foot _entirely_ in her mouth.
Or maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll keep the conversation between them. Roommate-to-roommate. |
8e49ceff18e1493fbb7ef664cff36255 | ['39622b1732464fe7aeffb9974a2a9068'] | Dark Addiction
**Author's Note:**
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. I'm not kidding, very graphic. Please don't read if depictions of self-harm trigger you.
The Doctor sighed, once again locked in his room, doing something so utterly human he almost laughed.
Almost, but not quite. The ability to genuinely laugh had long since been taken from him.
The Doctor sat, cross-legged on his floor, at the foot of his bed in his room in the TARDIS. His left sleeve was pulled up, his left arm rested in his lap, the soft, delicate skin of his wrist to his elbow crisscrossed with hundreds of overlapping, unorganized scars. Their coloring ranged from silver and hardly noticeable to barely scabbed and angry red, obviously recent. They had been made in no particular order, overlapping and only vaguely going in the same direction.
He looked at his small, silver blade, sitting in the palm of his right hand, and bounced it a few times, the only thing to ever offer him true comfort. Thankfully, none of his companions had ever found out- it was his dirty little secret, and he planned to keep it that way. The Doctor, the wonderful Doctor, he thought bitterly. If only. All of those people he'd let die, the beings he intentionally killed, ate away at him, at his soul, and always had. The deep loneliness inside his hearts dragged him down, making it impossible to be genuinely happy.
He barely even considered trying to resist the urge, because by now it was a dark, strange, bloody addiction that he couldn't bear to let go of. For some reason unbeknownst to him, any damage he intentionally inflicted upon himself, which extended beyond cutting- he would throw his head back against walls, slam his body into them, pour boiling water over his hands "accidentally" as he was making tea, hit himself until he bruised- that left a scar of some sort, didn't go away when he regenerated. It stayed with him, a brutal reminder of his weakness. His sonic screwdriver couldn't heal them either.
The emotional pain was becoming too much for him to handle, so he shook himself out of his reverie and brought the small silver blade he'd gotten out of a razor a few weeks ago, when his old blade had gotten dull, down to his wrist. The Doctor found a spot that seemed slightly less thick with scars than the rest of his forearm, and applied pressure to the glinting metal.
He dragged the blade through his arm, going deep into his skin, slowly savoring the crashing waves of relief that accompanied the pain he could barely feel. Blood welled in the new cut, and The Doctor repeated the process a few more times before giving a sigh of resignation and standing up to go the bathroom that adjoined his room, and began to mop up the blood from his wrists. This was the deepest he'd cut in a while- seeing Rose like that…
He swallowed. They'd gone to visit a planet by the name of Wegnasia in the Frawsoi galaxy, rumored to have a curse on it, which turned out to be a malevolent race of giant rats. The Doctor had eventually defeated them and forced them back to their home planet, but not before they'd subjected the captured Rose to various forms of torture.
She'd been broken, bloodied, bruised, and just had this look in her eyes- a look of pure horror and fear- and it was all his fault. Yes, he'd healed her with the sonic screwdriver, and comforted her, but… He had caused her that pain. She has said she forgave him, and told him it wasn't his fault. She was lying. He had caused so many people pain, he didn't deserve to live.
Without thinking he once again grabbed his small, silver friend and dug it into his wrist, not looking, not thinking, not feeling. He knew he'd hit a vein but he continued anyway. The Doctor's arm jerked and the blade dug in deeper, before he removed it from his arm and let it drop to the floor, covered in crimson tears.
He looked down at his mutilated wrist, a large, jagged cut, profusely bleeding, and all he felt was a lightheaded sort of euphoria. He grinned madly before falling to the floor with a loud crash as he knocked over various items, and let the darkness surround him in its comforting grasp.
**Author's Note:**
> So. This was written in 2012, posted on FF.net in 2013, and pretty badly written while I was in a dark place. Like, this has no redeeming qualities, it's just a sad and vaguely crackish mess, but I want all my published fics on one site.
>
> If you're feeling suicidal, call 1-800-273-8255 (US), or your country's equivalent. You're not alone, and no one is beyond help <3 | 2b64d23ca9d744d28bea2255bcc4e434 | ['39622b1732464fe7aeffb9974a2a9068'] |
Birthday Pie
Castiel is a klutz. He’s been a klutz since he became human, and the Winchesters know this to be true, considering the state he was in when he showed up at their front door.
Mostly, he drops things. A lot. Castiel has managed in his time at the bunker to drop three loaded guns, a machete, and several other interestingly dangerous weapons. He’s accidentally knocked over shelves of Sam’s lore books, nearly destroyed Dean’s cellphone by stepping on it, and, worst of all, he’s tripped over stones leading out to the Impala and managed to chip the windshield.
Needless to say, human Castiel is a walking disaster. Today, he decides, is one of his worst days. He is standing in the kitchen of the bunker, looking down at his feet in a fit of what certainly looks like pure exasperation.
He is covered in a strange mixture of sugar and pastry. Flour has exploded, and Castiel feels like the puffs of white powder on his clothes give a pretty clear visual of the blast radius he’d incited by, well, dropping the bag. With a great sigh, Castiel wipes his hands on the legs of jeans he’s stolen from Dean. He takes a lot of Dean’s clothing. It turns out to be rather comfy.
It’s snowing outside today, and it is very cold. Sam is out for a run. Why anyone would be out running in below freezing temperatures, Castiel does not know, but he had let Sam go without asking questions. Which is when he’d meandered into the kitchen, blinking blearily against the brightness of the sunrise.
But back to the kitchen. Castiel knows he has more important things to attend to, like how it’s January 24th – Dean’s birthday. Being more than a little socially inept, Castiel had asked Sam how to properly celebrate such an event.
“I dunno,” Sam had said to Castiel upon his approach, “Make him a birthday cake. You know how much Dean appreciates food.”
Castiel had pondered Sam’s conclusion, still incredibly confused, “I do not understand this tradition of the giving of cake for the anniversary of one’s birth. I was under the impression Dean was fond of pie.”
Sam had raised his eyebrows at that point, more irritated from being disrupted from his research. He had placed his book on the table and sighed at the fallen angel, “Then make him a birthday pie, Cas.”
So he had. Or, at least, he was attempting to. It’s all of these things that lead to him standing in front of a flipped over bowl, covered in flour and pastry and soaked in water and eggs. There is a bowl of fresh cherries beside him, pitted and prepared to be made into filling. But there’s no pie crust. Because Castiel is wearing it.
Castiel stops wallowing in self-pity when he hears footsteps on the stairs. Probably Dean’s. He makes no effort to tidy, mostly because there is no point and because he is too incredibly frustrated about his clumsiness to do much of anything but pout.
“What.” Dean says when he walks into the kitchen, “The. Hell.”
Dean has never been much for the whole ‘cleanliness is next to godliness’ routine, but stepping into the kitchen and seeing the walls splattered with bits of pie crust and splashes of flour is enough to make his jaw go slack for a minute.
Castiel says nothing, but presses his lips together. He parts them again to lick them nervously, and to say to Dean in his gravelly voice, “Happy birthday, Dean.”
Dean blinks, and Castiel thinks that maybe he looks a little shocked. He’s either forgotten that today is his birthday, or he’s still trying to recover from the whole ‘kitchen looking like the angels dropped an atomic bomb’ thing.
“What?”
Castiel sighs, wipes flour from between the bridge of his nose and his eye, and gestures meekly towards the overturned bowl.
“It is your birthday,” He says, pointing at the elder Winchester brother, “I was going to surprise you with a ‘birthday pie’. Sam told me that the giving of food is a very important part of the birthday tradition.”
There is a silence in the disgustingly dirty kitchen, and Dean, who is still in his bathrobe, looks around again before he can even think about meeting Castiel’s gaze again.
The fallen angel is a sight for sore eyes, Dean notices, and he can’t help but smile at the fact that Castiel is wearing a black shirt that is white with flour. Castiel notices there is something eerily childish in the eyes of Dean with that smile, and it’s a childishness that makes the human happy. He hasn’t seen Dean looking so much at peace in such a long time.
“Cas, buddy,” Dean says, finally able to articulate a sentence, “You, uh. You didn’t have to make me a birthday pie.”
Castiel shrugs, “I thought I would make my first celebration as a human memorable.”
Dean laughs at that, stepping further into the kitchen and inspecting the mess. It’s not something he can make go away before Sam gets back from his run. He sighs, but he doesn’t sound irritated or angry. Just tired. Always tired.
“Yeah, well, mark this one down in the history books, man,” Dean jokes, “Sam’s gonna have an aneurysm.”
And that’s a joke that goes right over Castiel’s head, because he comes back with a worried glance, spewing nonsense, “Does Sam have a history of arterial problems?”
Dean looks at him for a while, blinks, and then sighs, stepping closer to the fallen angel, “Look, Cas. Thanks for the pie. Or the cherries and flour. Whatever. But I think I’ll settle for a beer this time, yeah? Maybe once you learn how to walk without trippin’ over your own feet, then we’ll talk pie.”
Castiel cracks a smile, because this time he knows Dean is trying to be funny. He reaches up and places a hand on Dean’s forearm gently.
“Happy birthday, Dean.”
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this four years ago and have no interest in editing or reworking it so please excuse the overall bad writing. I'm clearing out my folders and figured maybe someone would find some sort of joy in this! |
c30795194fd74234b9f836a354b52337 | ['39ae20d74d024fe4b40623ae099698fb'] |
1. Practice Makes Perfect
"How do you know if you're good at sex?"
Howard looked up from his breakfast, one eyebrow raised. After a moment he smirked. "You just do," he said with a wink.
"I'm being serious!" Gary whispered desperately.
"Okay, okay! You're really bothered by this, aren't you?" Howard looked at the younger man with concern. "Has Rob said something?"
"No! Rob's been great!" Gary blushed. "He's been really great, actually. But he's had so much more, um... experience. How do I know how I measure up? He's had four out of the five Spice Girls for Christsakes!"
His bandmate laughed. "I'm pretty sure that was just a rumor."
"What if it wasn't?" Gary asked in obvious distress. "I can't compete with them!"
Howard sighed. "I don't think you're up against any of them currently." He tried a different tactic. "He comes when you two are having sex, right?"
Gary stared down at his plate. He pushed the links of sausages around with his fork absently. "Yeah, but he always does after I do. What if he's not enjoying it?"
"Are you sure you're doing it right?" Gary glared at his friend. Howard raised his hands. "Sorry, had to ask! What have you tried?"
Gary took a deep breath. Maybe Howard wasn't the right person to go to for this conversation, but he was desperate. "Other than the normal stuff? I tried going down on him once. I started gagging and coughing so badly that he just took pity on me."
"Well, practice does make perfect."
"He's flying in tonight. I hardly think that's going to be enough time to perfect my fellacio skills." Gary leaned back in his chair. "God, we've been together for over a year, and he still makes me feel like a virgin every time we're together."
"You could google things to try in bed."
"I do not want that in my search history!"
Howard pulled out his phone. "Fine. I'll google it." Gary pushed his plate away and put his face in his hands. "Have you tried rimming?"
Gary looked up. "What's that?" Howard turned the phone to him. "Ew! Gross! No!"
Howard shrugged and continued scrolling. "How about bondage?"
"No," Gary said firmly.
"Toys?"
"No."
"Fisting?"
"No."
"Maybe if you were a little more open-minded, he'd enjoy himself more."
"Shut up," the blonde muttered.
Howard laughed and pushed a banana in his friend's direction. "I'd say get some practice in before tonight!"
Gary glared at the banana but picked it up anyway before leaving the table.
2. My Boyfriend’s Back
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Robbie arrives, and Gary is eager to show him a good time.
The erratic rapping at the hotel door let Gary know that his boyfriend had arrived. He almost tripped over himself in his excitement as he rushed to the door. Between touring and living on different continents, they hadn’t seen each other in months, and Gary was more than ready to make up for that time. He yanked the door open and pulled his guest in quickly, kicking the door closed behind them.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against Robbie’s.
“I’ve missed you too,” the younger man said as he pressed his boyfriend against the door. His teeth found the sensitive spot behind Gary’s ear, eliciting an appreciative moan from the older man.
Gary dropped his hands to Rob’s belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He unbuttoned his trousers and was making his way to the zipper when he felt hands pushing him off.
“Wha—?”
“I’ve been traveling for 15 hours. I stink! I could use a nice warm shower.” Rob pulled his boyfriend toward him and kissed his collarbone. “I could also use a nice warm body to help me clean those hard-to-reach areas.”
Gary swallowed at the suggestive tone and simply nodded. He let himself be led into the bathroom and stripped down. Five minutes in, and he’d follow Robbie to the depths of hell at this point.
“You got anymore fruit? I’m starving.”
Gary was pulled out of his reverie by Robbie gesturing at the banana peel in the bathroom bin. The blonde blushed at the memory of it. He turned away to hide his embarrassment and worked at getting the shower to a comfortable temperature. “Sorry, mate. We can order room service if you’d like.”
Rob wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Why don’t we work up an appetite first?” he purred in his friend’s ear. He gently nudged the older man into the shower and made quick work of lathering them both up. As Gary leaned up to kiss him, he felt fingers tracing their way down his spine, landing at the base of his back. He pushed his hips back, offering his permission for Rob to go further. He felt soapy fingers enter him and groaned loudly into the taller man’s chest as he slowly pushed in and out.
“Rob,” Gary warned after enjoying himself for a moment. “We haven’t seen each other in months. If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last!”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Robbie replied, pulling his fingers out after delving in one last time.
Gary took a moment to stare down at both of their hardened cocks. He licked his lips and then looked up into the eyes of England’s biggest pop star. He could do this, he told himself as he started to sink down onto his knees. Robbie’s eyes widened as he watched Gary take his erection into his hand and lick the tip with a quick dart of the tongue. He watched as the older man took him into his mouth and started bobbing his head back and forth.
“Oh, Gaz.” | 9487da0c536e42ef9b1efac87f09ae19 | ['39ae20d74d024fe4b40623ae099698fb'] | “I’ve got it.” Gary thought he meant a towel, but the next thing he knew, the younger man had dipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his phone.
“Rob!”
“165 degrees for 25 minutes,” Robbie read aloud, ignoring Gary’s protest. He was already setting the oven. “Do you want me to put the phone back?”
“No!”
Robbie just shrugged and put the phone on the kitchen counter.
“Make yourself useful and mash these potatoes.”
“Yes, Captain.”
They fell back into a comfortable rhythm and chatted about their fears and excitement about the tour.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to fall off the platform. My concern is if the robot man malfunctions, and we end up stuck on him.”
“Well, I wasn’t worried about that before now!”
Robbie laughed as he handed Gary the pot of potatoes to top the dish. He heard a buzz from the counter and looked down at Gary’s phone.
“It’s Mark.” Gary’s eyes widened. “He’s asking if you told him yet. Are you two still on about the choreography? It’ll get better!”
The phone buzzed again.
“‘Rob has a right to know.’” Gary dropped his spoon with a loud clank. “A right to know what? Gaz?” Gary could see the myriad of possibilities circle through Rob’s mind.
“It’s nothing.”
Robbie was growing more concerned by the minute. “You’ve been acting strange all day. What is it?”
“Nothing,” Gary repeated.
“Tell me, or I’m going to call Mark and ask him.”
“Alright,” Gary conceded. “Have a seat. Let me pop this in this in the oven.” He was stalling, trying to figure a way out of telling Robbie the truth.
Robbie was already fearing the worst by the time he sat down. “Are you guys kicking me out of the band again?”
“No, of course not!”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Are YOU leaving the band?”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Are we cancelling the tour?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
Gary took a deep breath. He reached out and took Robbie’s hands into his own. “I’m in love with you.”
Robbie snatched his hands back. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to lie to me.”
Gary let out the breath he was holding. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes you are! You’re straight.” Robbie jumped out of his chair. He was getting angry now. “I very vividly remember you telling me so!”
“That’s what I thought at the time,” Gary said meekly.
“You were quite certain.”
“I know. I was an idiot.”
Gary’s self-deprecating words brought Robbie back down. He had promised himself when they reconciled never to make the older man feel belittled again.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
Gary wrung his hands together. “I’m in love with you,” he said again.
“I don’t understand.” Robbie wasn’t making this easy.
“I don’t either,” Gary admitted. “I just know that you’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last when I go to sleep. You’re the first person I want to call when something good happens. And I’ve been fantasizing about kissing you for the past year.”
Robbie raised his eyebrows. “That sounded like it came out of one of your love songs.”
“And not one of the good ones either,” Gary chuckled despondently.
“Oh, definitely after ‘Forever Love,’” Robbie agreed. Gary took it as a good sign he was teasing him now. After an awkward silence, Robbie finally spoke up again. “A year, huh?”
“Maybe a year and a half. I’ve been in denial for a while, I think.”
“A year and a half, like when I was with Mark?” Gary nodded. Robbie sighed thoughtfully. “When you helped pick up the pieces when he went through rehab and broke up with me. You were there almost every day. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t know how you would react. Honestly, I still don’t know. What are you thinking?”
Robbie leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I gave up on the possibility of us years ago. You said you weren’t interested, and after lots of alcohol and drugs and rehab, I found a way to live with that. Now you’re opening up old wounds again.”
Gary swallowed the knot in his throat. Robbie wasn’t upset at him, just sad.
“I do love you, Gaz. I just don’t know if I can open myself up like that again, not after you and not after Mark.”
Gary exhaled a breathy sigh. “Can we at least try?”
Robbie stared at him for a moment. Gary watched his chest rise and fall silently as he contemplated. As the younger man opened his mouth to reply, the timer to the oven went off.
“Shit,” Gary cursed, getting up. He had forgotten all about dinner. He looked back briefly to see Robbie still staring at the seat he had previously occupied, mouth still gaping. He dished out the meal on two plates and brought it back to the table. “I hope you’re still hungry.”
They ate in silence, occasionally glancing at one another. Finally, Robbie broke the silence by laughing to himself. Gary raised an eyebrow in question.
“You know how they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? You’ve really got that down.”
Gary thought back to the meals they’ve shared in the past year and laughed as well. “I think you might’ve starved to death without me around.”
“I do like having you around,” Robbie said pensively, changing the mood of the conversation yet again.
“Maybe we can do this again tomorrow, like a proper date?” Gary found the courage to ask.
“Yeah, maybe.” It was the best response Gary could hope for given the circumstances.
12. Chapter 12
Robbie didn’t show up for rehearsals the next day. Everyone looked at Gary apprehensively, afraid to ask how the previous evening went. Gary himself was trying to keep a brave face, holding onto hope that Rob meant his “maybe.” |
0259d524b640449c8325b0f08a0c9e54 | ['39d2be321646403abe8d0a8e35fbc074'] | Dianna flitted around the room, introducing me to the newest pieces and different styles that caught her eye but none of them seemed suitable to Victor. Every necklace or bracelet seemed too plain for someone like Victor to wear and even those that were expensive or meant for special occasions weren’t dressy enough. Necklaces, brooches, rings, bracelets, watches and even hairpieces were all insignificant to the beauty of Victor. After about an hour of deliberation and a whining eight year old's tantrum, we gave up. As I began to pick up our shopping bags and tugged a tired and frustrated Dianna, Mr. Spartek gasped.
“What is it?”
“I forgot one thing,” he replied, pushing a piece of jewelry from beside the rings area. “These rings came in from a pair of old lovers that were planning to leave Nikiforov for a while. They had them fitted for their hands and it just might fit you two perfectly with a bit of tightening or loosing for yours.”
Pulling out a pair of gold bands, Mr. Spartek handed them to me. The cold metal was so simple, made of gold and thick enough to still be considered manly. As I turned them in my hand, I could see the polished exterior and the bright shine that was perfect for Victor’s bright skin but as I peered on the inside, I saw an engraving. It was of a perfectly shaped snowflake, each ring holding half of it and a tinier one on each side. The engraved snowflake halves would leave a perfect indent in the wearer's skin as long as the person wore the ring long enough.
“These are perfect,” I whispered, peering down at them. “I only need one though.”
“It’s a buy one get one free offer, no exchanges,” he smirked, patting my shoulder. “And since I never put them on the market for long, I’ll give them to you for a steal. A seventy-two thousand rubles should cover it.”
“What!” Dianna shouted, looking at Mr. Spartek angrily. “That’s not a deal.”
“He lives with the Prince, he can pay it,” Mr. Spartek grinned, his crooked teeth sparkling.
“That’s too much and you know it!” Dianna grumbled, grabbing the rings and slamming them on the counter. “Don’t worry, Yuuri, we’ll find a better place.”
“There’s no place better than mine in all of St. Petersburg and you know that, Dianna,” he chuckled. “That’s why you brought him here.”
Dianna groaned and tugged me forward before turning around to stick her tongue at Mr. Spartek but as we reached the door, I pulled her to a stop. “Don’t worry, Dianna. I can pay it off. ”
“But Yuuri,” she started but when I looked at her, she nodded her head.
**“I want them, no matter how many payments or how long it’s going to take,” I said, reaching for the rings again. “When can I pick them up?”**
“You can take them today,” Mr. Spartek smiled, pulling out a sheet of paper. Writing some information on it he pointed to a red X on the bottom. “Just sign here and I’ll get full payment from the palace and you’ll pay them back.”
I nodded, grabbing the pen and signing my name in Nipponese. Mr. Spartek looked at it oddly before shrugging and putting the paper away. Mr. Spartek measured and adjusted the ring to fit our fingers before taking the rings and placing them inside a clasped box. Grabbing a slightly bigger box out of a drawer, he began wrapping the box in soft white tissue paper. Finally, he picked up a white bag with the name ‘Spartek’s Jewels’ embroidered on the outside. As he began to place it in the bag, Dianna stopped him.
“I think Yuuri wants this to be a surprise,” she said, pointing to a simpler looking bag without the jewelry name on the outside.
“Da,” Mr. Spartek smiled, reaching for another bag. Once he finished the embellishments and the paperwork, he handed me the bag. “Don’t forget to tell everyone who you got the ring from.”
“Shut up, Sparky,” Dianna groaned, grabbing the bag and handing it to me. I waved back sheepishly before leaving.
“You learn that from Yuri too?”
“Nope,” she said. “That was all my own.”
When we returned with Frostbite to the square, Victor was sitting outside pouting. Apparently, Shareek and Tamaki had left him to do some daily shopping and knew that Dianna could return home on her own. Victor felt abandoned even though many citizens had stopped to speak to the Prince. When he saw us walking up, Victor burst up from his seat and nearly tackled me when he saw me.
“I missed you too,” I smiled, wrapping my only available arm around him. He grabbed some of the bags meant for us but as he reached for the bag from Mr. Spartek, I pulled it out of reach. “I can carry that one.”
“Okay, detka,” he muttered, looking at me oddly. “It’s nearly lunch time so if you’d like, we can go to Alexei’s to get the Pirozhki.”
“That would be great,” I smiled, watching Victor climb Frostbite. As he struggled to find space for our pastries and us, he waved down some guards doing their daily rounds.
“Take these to the palace and place them in my room please,” he asked, then snatching the bag with our rings in it, he handed them over as well. “These too. But please be very careful with them. I don’t want any of Yuuri’s souvenirs to break because you were careless.”
“Yes sir,” they replied, grabbing the bags and heading off. I watched a little worried as they left with the bag.
“Whatevers in that bag has to be pretty important,” Victor smiled, looking at my face. “Well, to you.” | 00be6e03815b42a595d0faaf7d5070db | ['39d2be321646403abe8d0a8e35fbc074'] | “Then Katsuki Yuuri, it is,” he chuckled, dropping his goblet on the floor, watching the wine spill. “I have a need to speak with you.”
“Privately or in front of a crowd?” I asked, lowering the tone of my voice. Several party goers chuckled at that and others stared in awe but the King’s face changed from joking to serious. He stood up, placing his crown atop his head. His eyes darkened just a bit in only the way Alpha’s eyes could.
“Private show, huh? I would be delighted, Katsuki Yuuri.”
With a flourish of his hands, attendants came to clean up the spilled wine and removed the throne from its place. Several royals attending began to grab more glasses as several other servants brought out glasses of high quality ales and beers. Some Alphas grabbed the bottles while others waited their turn.
“All of you are welcome to the best of this house,” he proclaimed. “Stay until the sun rises or longer. I’m going to be returning to my chambers. Thank you for attending.”
Cheers filled the room as servants brought out more bottles. As the servants walked around with trays and glasses, King Leroy grabbed my hand and pulled me down a hallway hidden by a door. The hall was filled with nothing but the echoes of the party or footsteps of the servants. As the King dragged me along, I was able to look at him in more detail than I would ever be allowed. His hair was partially shaved in the back with two thin lines completely shaved in fancy detailing. His neck was a bit thicker than most with a single, minuscule mole on his nape. His shoulders weren’t too broad and sloped confidently down to a thin waist and thick leg muscles were wrapped in expensive silks and cloths. Above all else, King Leroy was dressed to confidently impress his guests and his body was nothing to be play with.
As we walked through the halls, King Leroy’s thick fingers wrapped around my wrist, I could hear the sounds of waterfalls and trees beating against brick. We were quickly reaching an area where there was no one else to find us and it was slowly starting to dawn on me that he could get rid of me and not a single person would know. What could I do? I was unarmed and never did a single thing to learn how to defend myself. Did King Leroy know somehow about what I had said?
King Leroy stopped abruptly in front of a massive metal door. Standing guard, were two men dressed in simple tunics and trousers with swords on their backs and guns on their belts. I could only assume they were personal guards since they immediately opened the door for King Leroy as he walked up. Once inside, there was nothing shy of luxury in the room. Fur rugs lined the marbled floors that sparkled with silver lining and flecks. Wide glass windows replaced walls and pearl white columns held up terracotta roofs. Silk curtains and white satin sheets covered a bed fit for ten men, comfortably. Hundreds of plush pillows intricately designed were delicately placed around the bed, creating a comforting place for the King to step.
He sat in the edge of his bed, facing me, with his legs crossed and his hands placed on his knee. It looked like he was investigating me as he sat there, poised like the King he was. A smile was formed on his drunken face and his cheeks were slightly flushed. I was standing in the middle of the room as cool breeze flew in through the French doors. The wind whistled against the tall trees that covered the balcony and I felt so much smaller as his heavy gaze stayed fixed on me.
“Katsuki Yuuri,” he said, simply.
I looked directly at him, not letting my tired lids close.
“I’d rather call you Yuuri, seeing as I’m planning to give you everything you could have ever wanted,” King Leroy smiled. I stared blankly at him, hoping he would explain but after a few seconds I'd had enough.
“What is it that I would want, Your Highness?” I asked, crossing my arms defiantly. “I am given anything I could ever dream of as a place Entertainer.”
“Ah, my dear Omega,” he started, chuckling just a bit as he spoke. “I can give you much more. How about riches, clothing and jewels in piles? Maybe bottles of exotic wines and silks from all over the known world? Or beautiful nights spent with your glorious and magnificent King?”
My eyes only grew larger as he spoke.
“If you agree, I promise to give you the honor of bearing the first heir to the throne and thereafter take care of you until you grow too old to love,” he smiled, confidently. “I am offering you the life that most of my Omegas dream of. The right to bear my child and the ability to live in luxury.”
Was he being serious?
A life of luxury being his bed servant was nothing luxurious at all.
I couldn’t answer him harshly no matter how much I wanted to but as I clenched my jaw and held my tongue a question arose inside of me.
**What would occur if I said yes?**
Would he keep his word and let me live like a bed servant? |
2dbe27b46c8d4c659fd1be1669630892 | ['39e7128cf4f443389b7dd5d2f059f4e5'] | “Did you see me on the bar, baby?” Harry asked again, his words slurring as he tightened his grip on Louis’ hand.
“I did, love. You kept yelling ‘Louis look at my sexy mating dance,’ how could I miss it?”
Harry chuckled. “It must have worked cause you’re taking me home,” he winked. He pulled Louis outside and took a quick turn into a familiar alley. He leaned back against the brick wall and tilted his head back, breathing slowly. “Thank you for not throwing me an actual party this year. I know how much you wanted to.
Louis couldn’t help but to admire him; his breath fogging in the chilly February air, his skin glowing porcelain underneath the clear light of the full moon. He took a step forward and pressed his lips to the silky skin, skin tingling as he felt Harry’s shaky exhale beside his ear.
“You’re welcome baby,” he whispered against Harry’s skin.
“You do know we’re back here for a reason,” Harry said casually, sliding his arms around Louis’ waist.
“Oh? Here I was thinking you had me out here to maybe enjoy the full moon, or get murdered,” Louis matched his tone, lips sliding down Harry’s neck. He bit down right above Harry’s collarbone, his hands finally touching the promised lands of the ripped jeans. “I can’t fucking believe you wore these,” he said, roughly gripping above each of Harry’s knees. He slowly slid his hands up, fingers catching on the tears.
“Can’t fucking believe you barely looked at me all night when you knew I wore them for you,” Harry hissed, his own hands sliding down to Louis’ bum.
“Admit you love getting me off in public,” Louis said, pushing his hands up underneath Harry’s shirt. He dragged his nails up Harry’s sides.
“Admit you hate it,” Harry shot back, shivering under the touch and pulling Louis closer.
“Just fucking kiss me.”
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The second sheer black shirt shared the same fate as the first, lying near buttonless on the floor of their living room. Harry surveyed it with a pout.
“You know I actually really liked that one,” he said, leaning over the back of the couch to look at Louis.
“I did too,” Louis frowned, finishing stirring sugar into Harry’s tea and lifting both of the teacups. “Guess we have some shopping to do.” He carefully walked to Harry, handing him one before sitting down beside him and blowing the steam away from his own.
“Maybe you should work on your self control,” Harry suggested. “I hear yoga -”
“I hear you going to bed alone,” Louis smiled sweetly, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down on the glass coffee table. Their second purchase together. He grabbed Harry’s cup and set it down beside his own.
“You know I really love you, right? I love that you wear ripped jeans for me, that you let me ruin your birthday by not throwing you a party, that you let me put too much sugar in your tea, that you let me pick a glass coffee table when we both know you were attached to that piece of shit bamboo one.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Louis with a small smile. “I do those things because I love you. More than anyone has ever loved anybody.”
“Okay, Edward Cullen.”
Harry pinched Louis’ arm. “That makes you Bella Swan.”
“Maybe let’s not,” Louis said with a chuckle, leaning his head onto Harry’s shoulder. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry’s stubbly cheek as the birthday boy’s eyes began closing. A red blanket was kept on top of the couch for emergencies such as this, and Louis didn’t hesitate to grab it and spread it over the two of them.
“Maybe let’s,” Harry mumbled.
“Happy birthday sleepy baby,” Louis replied, flicking off the light beside him and closing his eyes. He slumped down and propped his feet up on the table he had pouted a half hour for. “Here’s to a million more together.”
**Author's Note:**
> Find me on tumblr at yslstagram but don't expect me to do much more than cry about Louis and promise to post more in the distant future. | f56c8b42a3aa45f498937e2cab5045e7 | ['39e7128cf4f443389b7dd5d2f059f4e5'] | Louis turned and sat back to the wall, thigh resting against Harry’s, spreading warmth that radiated down Harry’s leg.
“It was your intern. She fucked up the medication,” he said finally.
Harry tensed.
“Are you sure about that, before you go pointing fingers?”
“It’s the only logical explanation. With all the immunosuppressants, all the chemo drugs, even choosing wrong between acetaminophen and ibuprofen could have an outcome like that. She was stressed and she was unprepared to be left alone in a pediatric ICU.”
“So now you’re telling me I’m a bad teacher,” Harry spat.
“I’m telling you that she’s incompetent.”
“You know what,” Harry said, starting to stand up, “I don’t have to take this from you. If she hadn’t proven herself competent, I wouldn’t have left her to -”
**L**
Louis grabbed Harry’s wrist and stood up, gripping it tightly to keep him from going any further.
“Shut up.”
“No! You don’t get to tell me -”
“I said, shut up. We can fight it out later. Just sit with me.”
“It’s my birthday,” Harry mumbled.
Louis raised his eyebrows and nodded, letting go of Harry’s wrist.
“I’m sure you want to rest up for various celebrations, then, my bad.”
Harry smiled sheepishly. “I purposefully picked up a shift. I don’t have anything planned and I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself.”
“That’s pathetic,” Louis said, stepping closer. Harry took a step back, gasping softly as he hit the door. Louis reached a hand out and locked it, resting the hand on Harry’s hip.
“What’s pathetic is your crappy attempt to make a move on me by failing to save my patient and then locking me in a rarely used on call room.”
“Are you going to let me finish my move or not?” Louis rolled his eyes.
Harry nodded, and Louis took the final step towards him, pressing his lips firmly to the skin exposed in the v of the scrub top. Harry sighed softly, hands touching to Louis’ waist, encouraging him. Louis pressed another kiss to Harry’s collarbone, and another to the base of his neck.
“I’m gonna need you to meet me halfway,” he murmured, tilting his chin up as Harry bent his head down, their lips pressing together slowly, feeling to Louis almost as if they were meant to never come back apart. He slid his hands up Harry’s arms to his neck, tilting his head and deepening the kiss as he freed Harry’s curls from the wretched bun he always kept them caged in. Harry’s grip on his waist tightened as he wove his fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging on the strands. He pulled away, grinning as Harry’s lips chased his for a moment.
“Was that my birthday present?”
“Nah, this is.” Louis let go of Harry’s hair, hands trailing down his sides to his scrub bottoms. He roughly gripped them and pulled them down as he sank to his knees, eyebrows raising.
“You would go commando.”
**Author's Note:**
> I promise the rest won't be as jumpy, I just had a million scenes in my head, and it was easier to bang them out one by one rather than have an actual thread. From now on expect possible half or whole chapters devoted to one viewpoint.
>
> Don't come find me on tumblr, I'm not there anymore. Instead, find Zo, at happilysunlight, and tell her how much you love this. |
20bd31b510c6463ca95080aa321b00fd | ['39f4e5a703464f96b57afcc18aab394e'] | “Anyways,” Miss Granger continued, taking a look at her wristwatch. “I think I have to go. I still want to stop by the library to pick up some books before it closes. Thank you for having me, Professor!” And with that, she stood up, straightened out her clothes and put the book she had been reading back in its place on one of the countless shelves lining the dark room before making her way to the exit.
But just as she was about to disappear through the hole in the wall, she lingered for a second. “Sir?” Snape was taken aback by how nervous she suddenly sounded.
“Yes, Miss Granger?”
The young woman bit her lower lip. “It’s okay if you don’t want to but the other teachers normally address me by my first name when I am alone with them. So perhaps you could do that, too? Only in private, of course.”
Severus gave her a calculated look. It probably sounded silly, especially after he had already given her access to his private quarters, but he still was somewhat afraid of getting too close to her. Wasn’t using her first name a bit too far? But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a warm sensation spread through his body at her request.
“Alright … Hermione.”
***********************************************************************************************************************************************
“Come on, Hermione, I know you’re in there! Open the door!”
The brightest witch of her age was surprised to hear what sounded like frantic knocking as she was climbing up the stairs leading to her Head Girl suite. It wasn’t long before she arrived at the top and discovered her ginger-haired best friend banging on her door. “Hermione, please! I know you’re really mad at me but can we please just talk about it?”
“Ginny?” she said, making the youngest Weasley jump in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, Hermione!” the girl exclaimed before running towards her friend at the speed of light and hugging her so hard that the two of them almost tumbled over. “I’m so, so sorry! I know I treated you like crap and for a stupid reason, too! I don’t know even know what got into me, I’m just so stressed and I let Ron get the better of me! Harry is sorry, too, but Ron is still mad so he feels like he is sort of caught in the middle and –“
Hermione took a step back and offered the young woman a smile. “Ginny, it’s alright. No hard feelings, okay?” She was still upset about how she had been treated, of course, but she had learnt a long time ago that sometimes being happy was more important than being right.
“Hermione, you are truly too good for this world!” the sixth-year called out before moving in for another suffocating embrace. The brunette couldn’t help but chuckle; war hero or not, at the end of the day she was just a girl and a girl needed her best friend.
Now that their stupid fight was finally behind them, it didn’t take long before the two females fell back into their old ways. They soon found themselves on the Head Girl’s bed, with countless Muggle nail supplies spread around them, talking about this and that. However, the newest Hogwarts gossip wasn’t really able to awaken Hermione’s enthusiasm like it usually does. Something had been occupying her mind for a few days now and it took her a long time before she finally mustered up the courage to tell the younger girl. “Hey, Gin …” For some reason, her mouth felt extremely dry all of the sudden.
“Yes?” The redhead was busy painting the tiny nail of her right little toe in a pastel pink colour, biting her tongue and furrowing her brows in concentration.
“Um …” Hermione had no idea how to bring up the subject. “I need your advice about something.”
It was only then that her friend looked up. “What’s going on?”
“So …” The know-it-all took a shaky breath, deciding to just make it quick and painless. “I might be starting to like Professor Snape.” Oh Merlin, finally she had said it out loud!
Too scared of the reaction, she didn’t even dare to look Ginny in the eyes. But to her surprise, the only response was a high-pitched giggle. “Hermione, you like all teachers. So I’m not surprised that you like that tosser, too. Even though I do not know how you do it, especially liking him enough to be his apprentice and –“
“No, Ginny, I –“ The Gryffindor Princess rubbed the back of her neck with a shaky hand. “I think I might fancy him.”
“ **WHAT?!** ” The ginger jumped to her feet, knocking over the bottle of nail polish and spilling its content all over the comforter in the process.
“Ginny, please!” She tried to calm her friend down, but it was to no avail – the whirlwind that was Ginevra Weasley had been unleashed.
“You have a crush on Snape? SNAPE?! The greasy git of the dungeons? The most hated teacher in all of Hogwarts? **That Snape?!** ” The look of disbelief and betrayal was painfully obvious.
“I don’t know, Ginny, I just don’t know! I have all of these confusing feelings and I don’t know what to make of them, okay?!” At this point, Hermione’s brown eyes were burning and starting to fill with tears; she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.
“Hey, hey, come on! It’s nothing to cry about.” Ginny gave her shoulders a strong reaffirming squeeze, however, she still had horror written all over her face. “Even if we’re talking about Snape here.”
A lone tear rolled down Granger’s blushed cheek. “I don’t even know when it started, I –“ The words got stuck in her throat as she erupted into sobs. “How can I like a teacher in that way?! Like, maybe that could even get me EXPELLED!” | 1a8613c5e2554a4780ac097ebb43cfde | ['39f4e5a703464f96b57afcc18aab394e'] | Hermione woke up with a smile that day. It had been so nice to sleep in her big comfy dorm bed again. After years of fighting against the forces of evil, the young witch finally felt at peace and was looking forward to being able to focus solely on her education for her final school year. Sitting up, she took a look around her new room. After being appointed as this year’s Head Girl, she was moved from Gryffindor Tower to a smaller one from which she could overlook the Great Lake. Instead of having to share a room with several other girls, she now had her own suite composed of a cosy bedroom, a luxurious bathroom and a small but sufficient study. The coat of arms of Hogwarts was engraved into her enormous bed’s wooden headboard.
Hermione slipped out from underneath the warm covers and quickly put on her silky cream-coloured robe. After a quick look at her Muggle watch, which she had gotten from her parents as a birthday gift almost two years ago, she realised that she had woken up almost an hour earlier than usual. Not wanting to go back to bed, she decided instead to take a hot shower.
After washing her body and giving her messy curls a deep clean, the teenager used her wand, which was made of vine wood, to dry her hair and skin. Afterwards, she picked up a decently sized lime green toiletry bag with big purple dots. Hermione unzipped it to reveal an assortment of Muggle beauty products which she had collected during the summers spent at her parents’ home. Making use of the extra time, she fished out a thick moisturising body butter with a slight peach smell and applied it to her entire body. Next, she moved on to makeup and applied brown mascara, a bit of light pink blush as well as a tinted lip balm to give her face a fresh look. Continuing with her hair, she struggled with taming the wild locks but eventually managed to put them into a cute messy bun. After putting on her beloved uniform – of course making sure to add her new Head Girl badge – and even using a little magic to make it look completely impeccable, she applied some jasmine-scented perfume as the last final step. Grabbing her well-loved school bag stuffed with all sorts of books as usual, she then made her way to the first breakfast of her final year at Hogwarts.
“Morning, Hermione,” Ron munched just a few minutes later as he stuffed even more pork sausages into his large mouth.
The young witch smiled as she sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall next to her friends. While she had never been an admirer of Ronald Weasley’s table manners, she was in too good of a mood this morning to correct him. Instead, she gave him a friendly pad on the shoulder while greeting everyone else as well. As she was helping herself to some toast with scrambled eggs, Professor McGonagall was fulfilling her duties as Head of House by distributing the individual timetables to each Gryffindor student. Taking a small sip of pumpkin juice, Hermione took a look at hers and saw that it didn’t entail any surprises.
“Let’s see … Monday starts off with Charms and Potions, then History of Magic and DADA in the afternoon.” Her heart skipped a beat, however, when she noticed what her very first period of the year would be: She was scheduled to have an apprenticeship lesson with Professor Snape!
Her look darted to the outer end of the High Table and she instantly wished she had kept her head down. The Dungeon Bat’s dark eyes were staring at her with such intensity that she felt like he was looking right at her soul. His lips were pressed together so tightly that they were barely visibly. She had known that he wouldn’t be ecstatic about working so closely with her when she had signed up for the apprenticeship at the beginning of the summer holidays - but she surely hadn’t expected to get a look of complete and utter hatred from her teacher.
“Perhaps I should have gone with Professor Vector after all,” she thought anxiously. At that moment, the Potion Master stood up and abruptly turned around to leave the Great Hall, his long black robes whirling around his slim figure.
“Unbelievable! It’s the first day of school and that greasy git is already in a bad mood,” said Harry before eating another piece of fried bacon.
“Did you really expect anything else from him? He will always be an old wanker,” Ginny responded and ignored Hermione’s glare at her use of a curse word. “Anyways, what about your timetables? I’m starting off with a double period of Charms.”
“Harry and I have a free period. Not bad for the first day!” Ron laughed with his mouth still full.
The know-it-all frowned. “Ron, you should really take your education more seriously. This is your final year after all! You are aware of the fact that the N.E.W.T.s will be harder than any exam we’ve ever taken, right?” But the freckled boy only rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his breakfast.
“I would also have a free period if it wasn’t for my apprenticeship,” stuttered Neville shyly. “I do not mind that, though. I enjoy taking care of the plants with Professor Sprout. What about you, Hermione? Did you also apply for an apprenticeship?”
Hermione gulped. She knew that her friends were not going to take the news of her working closely with their least favourite teacher lightly. “Well, Neville, I will indeed train under someone. As it happens, I am also starting next period,” she said, trying to avoid the inevitable. |
d49c919cff244240a1b1d89b226d5141 | ['3a235138165b414f9bf70dab9a2826b1'] | Hinata hums in response and even though his head is turned away Kageyama can feel him staring, still. His gaze is hot against his skin and the longer it lingers the less composed he feels. Kageyama clears his throat. “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“I mean, what do you do for work?”
“Oh! So, you do have manners. I thought we were just going to sit in silence.”
“Holy fuck, are you always this annoying!” Kageyama snaps his head back to Hinata and in return he’s blessed by being laughed at in the face.
“You’re just way too easy.”
He bristles at the comment, knowing Hinata is not wrong. His whole life things have gotten under his skin a lot easier than others. It was probably why he’d never been able to escape his reputation as an egotistical jerk, not that his new _ fans _ seemed to notice. “Fine! We’ll sit in silence.”
“Aw, c’ mon. I was only teasing. I run a nonprofit -”
“No way,” Kageyama cuts him off before he can continue, his voice clipped and unbelieving.
Hinata sits back up, “Yes way! Don’t give me that face.”
“What face?”
“The face that is all like ‘Wah??? This guy is a capable adult?’ That one.” Hinata points to punctuate his point.
Kageyama taps his finger tips against the wooden table in response. Somewhere in the apartment a clock ticks, unseen, just an auditory reminder that he’s somehow been sucked into spending a large chunk of his evening with his neighbor, who might as well be a stranger. “Whatever,” is the worldly conclusion he comes to.
“Whatever, yourself.” Hinata shifts, drawing Kageyama’s attention to his knee.
“Jesus.” Kageyama reaches between them and grabs Hinata’s hand, moving it so it’s properly situated over the inflammation. “Keep the ice on the whole knee not just part of the knee. The swelling won’t go down that way.”
“But, it’s cold!”
Kageyama rolls his eyes, “Just put up with it for a few more minutes.”
“Only if you give me my hand back.”
“What?”
“My _ hand. _ ”
He looks back to Hinata’s knee and takes his hand away like it’s been burned.
“I’m not going to put out just because you saved me.” Hinata says with a tilt of his head.
“W-w-what?” He sits so far back on the coffee table it skids across the wood flooring. “I-I-I wasn’t _ doing _ anything! You’re the one sitting with your shirt half way up your stomach.”
Hinata looks down and yanks at his shirt. “Why are you looking! Pervert! Pervy-yama!”
“Pervert! You-you! You’re so frustrating!” Kageyama knows his entire face is red and there’s very little he can do to stop it from getting worse. “Why are we even talking about this!”
“Because you wouldn’t let me talk about my job!”
“So that makes it okay for you to put me on the spot like that?”
“Yes.”
Kageyama slaps his hands to his face. “Fine. What _ kind _ of nonprofit do you _ supposedly _ run?”
“My program rescues animals and rehabilitates them to become service pets. We have locations all across the country, but I moved here to help with the founding of a base of operations.”
It takes a moment to process this new information. First of all, this new revelation doesn’t match Hinata’s appearance at all. Kageyama _ looks _ like he could be an athlete considering his height and undeniably sculpted body. If anybody asked him what he did for a living and he responded with professional athlete there would be no reason for people to _ not _ believe him. Hinata on the other hand looks like a kindergarten teacher. “Really?”
Hinata’s mouth drops open. “Yes, really!” His voice squawks with indignation. “I cannot believe you are this - this - arrogant!”
Kageyama’s face heats up at being scolded, but it’s never been like him to back down. “Well, _ sorry _ , but you look like a twelve year old.”
“Oh, come _ on.” _ Hinata rolls his eyes. “I know I’m _ short, _ but I _ know _ I don’t look like I’m a preteen. I bet I’m older than you even!”
“No way!”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
Kageyama physically reels. “Are you serious?”
“Why don’t you believe anything I say? Do I _ look _ like a liar?”
“No, I just,” Kageyama can feel himself frowning out of frustration. Talking with Hinata is, well, _ a lot _ for him to handle. The only people who he deals with that are as intense as this are interviewers, always so relentless with their questions, and maybe his ex - who just so happens to be this manager. This new comparison to the media, though, inspires Kageyama. He’s had plenty of PR coaching for the interviews he’s been doing lately and talking to Hinata seems fairly similar. He takes a breath, “You’re right.”
“Hmm?” Hinata seems to lose a little bit of his intensity.
“You were right, I’m only twenty-six.”
Hinata smiles, all bright and warm and reminiscent of summer. Kageyama has to look away.
“So, um, how did you get started with the nonprofit?”
This seems to catch Hinata by surprise. “Oh, um. I was in veterinary school and I just - it was so sad. I had started my internship and I realized pretty quickly that I was killing more animals than I was saving. It was hard to admit, but in practice being a vet wasn’t for me. So, I left school and started to work on getting funding for an animal rescue program so I could actually help animals.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Hinata snorts. “Not a twelve year old.”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I was going to compliment you, but you didn’t give me the chance.”
Hinata leans forward, “Aw, c’ mon. I was just teasing you.”
It doesn’t take more prodding for Kageyama to relent. “Fine. I was going to say that was admirable - or something.” | f38ac0f9c0cb4bbf8082a296824e3370 | ['3a235138165b414f9bf70dab9a2826b1'] | _ Kuroo. _ The name strikes Kageyama as familiar, but there’s no time to place it as they pull into a private garage. On the first floor the car comes to a stop near the elevators. The scene seems to be closer to an illegal transaction than a friendly pick up. “Why aren’t there any cameras?”
“She lives in a secure building. Much like the ones I keep trying to get you to consider.” Tsukishima puts his tablet away and picks up his bag.
“I like my apartment,” hu mumbles because he knows Tsukishima isn’t listening.
They exit the back of the car when Daichi and the driver get their doors. A few moments later the elevator opens and out steps a woman that Kageyama can only assume is Kiyoko. Objectively, she’s probably one of the most attractive people he’s ever met, bar none. Behind her is a man with hair like a bird’s nest, most likely her manager.
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima confirms. He steps forward and extends his hand. “Thank you for helping us on such short notice.” Something about the exchange throws him. It’s professional but, the tiny pull and Kuroo’s lips has him tilted.
“Anything for you, Tsuki-.” It’s at that moment Kageyama’s utter agitation is noted. Kuroo clears his throat, “-shima.Tsukishima.”
Kageyama frowns at the exchange. It’s over friendly. He’d called him Tsuki - nobody but Kageyama _ calls him Tsuki. _
“Hello.”
His head snaps to Kiyoko, her voice is so soft. “Sorry. Hi.” He extends his hand. “Kageyama.”
“Kiyoko. Thank you for escorting me tonight.” Kiyoko pushes a purposeful stray piece of hair behind her ear, her hair is otherwise swept back in an updo.
Yachi was right, Kageyama’s tie color does match Kiyoko’s outfit. It’s a tight dress that hits right above her knees with three-quarter sleeves. She turns to whisper to Kuroo, revealing the plunging drop back.
“Alright,” Kuroo claps his hands. “You kids have fun.” He shoos them towards the car.
Kageyama steps towards Tsukishima. “You’re not coming with us?”
“I can’t hold your hand through this.”
“Then why did you come at all?” He glances behind Tsukishima to Kuroo. He nods to Kageyama and leans against a car. It clicks into place for him. “You’re kidding me.”
Immediately, Tsukishima rubs his forehead. “Kageyama we don’t have time for this. You’re running late as is.”
Panic rises in him, almost as quickly as anger. _ This isn’t fucking happening! _ “No. Fuck this. I’m going home.”
“Don’t be so loud,” Tsukishima hisses. “You’re causing a scene. You _ are _ going. This is important.”
“I’m causing a scene?” Kageyama drops his volume. “You’re the one that used me as a ride to your _ date.” _
Tsukishima brings himself to his full height. “I have business with Kuroo regardless of what you _ think _ our relationship is. You and Kiyoko are in this together, so we are too. Don’t make this into more than it has to be.”
Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, he isn’t sure what’s about to come out. He only knows that it’s mean and nasty. Kiyoko coughing into her hand stops him. He turns to her noting that she and everyone in the garage now seem uncomfortable.
“Maybe we should go?” She offers her words in a soft voice that makes Kageyama feel like he’s five years old. It takes the fight out of him.
* * *
The car ride is depressingly quiet. Kiyoko sits opposite of him, chin in her palm, and left leg crossed over right as she stares out the window. She’s the epitome of grace and elegance. Kageyama on the other hand feels like he’s ripping at the seams just trying to hold himself together.
The partition lowers and Daichi pokes his head back. “We’re a few miles out. I’ll exit the car first and open the door for you two. I’ll follow you at a distance of about twelve feet through the press area and keep tabs on you guys throughout the night.”
“Thank you,” Kiyoko smiles at him. Her statement doubles as a dismissal and the partition goes back up.
Kageyama can feel her attention on him. Her gaze is intense, like a whole weight settling over his body. She commands respect, though you’d never know by her tone of voice, soft and melodic. “I have a girlfriend.”
The statement catches Kageyama off guard. This isn’t a topic he has a response for. Kiyoko seems unphased by his silence.
“I’m doing this for her.” Her eyes level with Kageyama’s. “She texted me a little while ago that she got off from work early. She’s probably at home with her new kitten. She wants me to come by after we’re done tonight. To celebrate our success.”
Kageyama glances away from her, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m telling you because we’re doing this for others just as much as we are doing it for our careers. My girlfriend is younger than me. Just out of college. I’m her first real relationship, it’s very new to her. It’s what makes her so cute, but her family doesn’t know she’s gay.”
Kiyoko pauses, gathering her thoughts. “If the rumors about me aren’t settled the media might start digging into my personal life. If they do that, they could find her. They might expose her to the whole country, not just her family. I know the evening started off tense, but we have a show to put on and it’s not just a performance for ourselves.”
Kageyama feels himself pull together just a little bit. “I’m not a very friendly guy.” |
5b4b1790a9ae416fbb690977a71e5220 | ['3a30950bd14f4235be20d91597f5de9d'] | “Oh,” Omurice said. “Thanks.”
Dust bunnies floated lazily around them. A few dried leaves drifted from somewhere on a shelf, stirred by their presence in the room, and tangled themselves in Omurice’s hair. The heady scent of herbs grew ever stronger. There was more silence, and now Pudding found himself with the inexplicable urge to break it, and he did so with the first thought that popped into his head.
“I owe you an apology too,” he said.
“What? I mean, you haven’t really been rude—”
“That isn’t why I’m apologizing,” Pudding said curtly, cutting him off before remembering with a feeling of horror that that was a terrible approach to take when offering an apology. What on earth had gotten into him? “Do you remember… all those years ago, with your Master Attendant…” He trailed off, unwilling to recount it in detail.
“Yeah,” Omurice said quietly.
“Yes,” Pudding said. “Well. I’m sorry… for that. I realize now that it did no one any good for me to try to point out to her that you weren’t who she thought, and I sincerely apologize, Omurice.”
“It’s okay.” Omurice shrugged. “I get it. I’m not really still mad about it.”
Pudding nodded, finding himself at a loss for words. This was the last way he would’ve expected this evening to go, although he supposed he couldn’t complain. Yes, Omurice was often exasperating and had too much energy and was so loud it hurt Pudding’s ears, but if Pudding was being honest with himself, he couldn’t quite bring himself to hate Omurice—or even dislike him, for that matter. It wasn’t too difficult to find Omurice’s clumsiness with words endearing, especially now that he understood how very unintentional it was; it was easy to watch his exaggerated hand movements and cheesy expressions and oblivious demeanor and find him rather cute; it was near impossible not to be warmed by his silly grin, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face and was infectious to those around him. He shook his head—again, what had gotten into him? Allowing himself to consider the potential that Omurice didn’t hate him seemed to have opened up a whole new world of thoughts about Omurice.
“Hey, so…” Omurice spoke again, his voice still soft, and Pudding gave up on leaning in and instead just shifted closer to him. He was far too aware that their legs were now pressed together, though he counted his blessings in that Omurice didn’t seem to notice. “Um, you know I don’t really hate you, right?”
“How in the world would I have known that?” Pudding muttered, more to himself than to Omurice. “No, I wasn’t aware, actually.”
“Sorry,” Omurice said quickly. “I-I don’t. Hate you, I mean. I don’t hate you.”
“Yes, that’s good to know.” Pudding tugged at his collar—the room seemed to only be getting hotter and hotter. He was starting to doubt it was caused by purely environmental factors, though the thought that it was because he was blushing made him wish he could disappear off the face of the earth. “I don’t hate you, either.”
“Really?” Omurice sounded genuinely surprised, and Pudding felt a pang of guilt at the realization he must’ve seemed quite cold to Omurice. “I always thought, like… I mean, because I’m so annoying and stuff, y’know?”
“I don’t find you terribly annoying,” Pudding said, and it was the truth. “You’re excitable, but I know you mean well.”
“Thanks, I think.” Omurice looked at him again with a funny expression, and was it his imagination or was Omurice very, very slowly getting closer? No, it wasn’t his imagination because now their shoulders were up against each other and he could feel Omurice’s body heat, and oh dear it really was very hot in this closet.
“Yes,” Pudding croaked—when had his throat gotten so dry? “It’s a compliment.”
“I actually think you’re pretty cool,” Omurice said. “I mean, even though you’re, like, Jello’s agent and stuff… um, so I’m supposed to not like you… but—but I think you’re really smart and nice and handsome.”
“Thank y—” Pudding sputtered as his mind caught up to his mouth and he finally registered the last part of Omurice’s sentence. “H-hang on, pardon me?”
Even in this dim lighting, he could see the blush spreading across Omurice’s face, and Pudding was sure he wasn’t faring much better himself, since his entire body felt way too hot. Omurice covered his mouth with his hand like he’d said something he shouldn’t have, shaking his head in what Pudding supposed was a misguided attempt to take back his words. In truth, Pudding wasn’t bothered by Omurice’s compliments—on the contrary, knowing Omurice found him attractive had made his heart skip a couple beats, jumping around in his chest until it found a comfortable place to settle so it could beat hard against his ribcage. He just couldn’t quite figure out how to respond. If his lack of experience with anything along these lines wasn’t enough to throw him for a loop, the fact that, up until just a few minutes ago️, he had been a hundred percent convinced Omurice hated his guts was certainly complicating things. He had never allowed himself to dwell on thoughts like these in the past, both because they would distract him from his work and because needless to say, having any sort of feelings for someone who despised him would only end in pain. Now, though, he was confused beyond belief.
“Sorry,” Omurice mumbled after a long period of awkward silence.
“I don’t mind.” That was an understatement, but it was all Pudding could manage at the moment. “Thank you… for the compliment.”
“Uh huh.” Omurice gulped hard enough for it to be audible. “Um, uh, did… you really not mind?” | b3d4f1ec700f4e839701373bfc05d6d4 | ['3a30950bd14f4235be20d91597f5de9d'] |
King and Lionheart
Valentine’s Day. A day to celebrate the love one held for others and the love one received in return, a day to express the depths of one’s feelings, a day to spend with the most cherished people in one’s life. What a wonderful concept. It meant absolutely nothing to B-52.
Maybe that wasn’t true, though, he thought, idly turning the two boxes he held over and over. They’d been wrapped by clumsy hands, hands he didn’t have complete control over, hands that felt too large and clunky and disconnected from him half the time—but the wrapping paper still glittered in the sunlight coming through the window, and he thought it was okay for it not to be perfect. He had never been perfect. He had never been the perfect machine he was expected to be, and many times he had watched lovers amble along the street hand-in-hand and wondered how that would feel. That was then—things were different now. Now he didn’t have to wonder anymore.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure pass through the doorway, and he looked up, his breath catching in his throat. There stood Brownie, smiling at him with that soft smile he’d come to know so well—the smile that spoke a thousand words, the smile that wrapped around him and softened every edge the world could hold, the smile that had saved his life. B-52 took a shaky breath as Brownie came toward him and sank into the couch next to him, leaning on B-52 to peer at the presents in his hands. The gift he’d painstakingly prepared was perfect, he knew it; he could only hope Brownie would share that sentiment.
“Would it be presumptuous to ask if those are for me?” Brownie asked, his voice light. B-52 could recognize by now that he was teasing.
“Who else?” It came out tremulous, and B-52 swallowed hard.
Brownie furrowed his brows in concern. “Are you nervous? B, regardless of what you’ve gotten me, I’m going to love it—”
“Here,” he said, handing Brownie the smaller package. “I—I’m sorry about the wrapping paper.”
Brownie chuckled in that half-exasperated, half-fond way—he’d explained it once, told B-52 that he never quite knew how to respond to B-52’s lack of confidence, because he was so incredible in Brownie’s eyes and it was difficult to believe B-52 couldn’t see himself the same way. B-52 had held that compliment close for years. He wasn’t sure Brownie remembered saying it. B-52 doubted he could ever forget.
“There’s no need to apologize,” Brownie said. “I’m going to tear it anyway, so it doesn’t matter, really. It’s the thought that counts.”
True to his word, he tore off the wrapping paper, though of course he did it in his usual elegant way, so it looked far more graceful than the word “tear” might have suggested. He slid the lid off the little cardboard box and his face lit up, and B-52’s heart skipped a beat or two.
“I hope you—”
“Oh, B-52!” Brownie pulled off his gloves, worn with use as they were, and donned the pristine white gloves B-52 had bought. “I’ve been meaning to get new gloves for so long, and I’ve never gotten around to it. I didn’t know you’d noticed. That’s very thoughtful, B, thank you so much.”
“I’m really glad you like it,” B-52 said, though the tightness in his chest didn’t cease. On the contrary, his breathing grew more strained, and his stomach began to churn. “Um, I… I have another gift.”
“Is that so?” Brownie laughed again, soft and lovely. “One gift is more than enough, love, you didn’t have to spend so much time on me.”
“Well, I, um…” B-52’s palms grew clammy. He couldn’t quite understand why he was so anxious. For some reason, the idea of Brownie not enjoying his gift terrified him—maybe because he’d worked so hard on it, and he’d been so passionate about it, and he’d be absolutely destroyed if Brownie was disappointed.
“Yes?” Brownie prompted, tilting his head. “It’s alright, B. As I said, I’ll love anything you’ve gotten me.”
“I made it,” B-52 said. “I—I worked… really, really, really hard on it. I, um… it’s kind of silly, but—but… I, um, I hope you like it.”
He thrust the second package at Brownie, and as Brownie opened it B-52 stared at the carpet beneath them, unwilling to see Brownie’s expression. There was a beat of silence. Then a gasp, and then—
“Oh my god, B!” Brownie’s voice trembled, and B-52 turned his head just in time to watch Brownie throw his arms around B-52 and squeeze the life out of him. “This—this is beautiful! You made this?”
“Mhm.” He retrieved the gift from Brownie’s hand and set it on his head. “It’s not real gold, of course, it’s just gold-painted wire, but… but yeah, I made it. It took, um, awhile.”
Brownie looked up at him, and something inside B-52 clicked then, and all he could think was, _this is exactly, exactly where I’m meant to be._ Looking at Brownie—his smile radiant, eyes shining with tears, and the crown atop his head glittering golden in the light, brilliant and intricate and so carefully crafted—B-52 knew. This was home. This was heaven.
“I can hardly believe it.” Brownie pressed his face to B-52’s chest, and B-52 knew it was an attempt to hide that he was almost crying. “This is beautiful. I’m—I can’t believe you made this just for me, B.”
“It was hard,” B-52 said, then giggled helplessly, because despite all his qualms and doubts and anxiety Brownie loved it—of course Brownie loved it, when had Brownie ever, ever been disappointed in him?
“If I might ask, though—” Brownie pulled back, sniffling. “Why a crown?”
It gave B-52 pause. Why a crown, indeed? Brownie wasn’t any sort of royalty, and yet—B-52 couldn’t help but smile to himself. If he had to name one person who was a reliable leader, who cared for all those around him and was ever-attentive, who B-52 would follow to the ends of the earth without question, it would be Brownie. His days with Spaghetti made for a stark contrast. No matter how fancily Spaghetti dressed up, it would never make him a true royal.
“You’re my king,” B-52 said simply.
Brownie kissed him without hesitation, and B-52’s heart was as full as it had ever been. Valentine’s Day, he thought, truly was a day worthy of attention. This moment—the crown glowing on Brownie’s head, and Brownie himself glowing brighter than any gold could—this moment meant absolutely everything to him. |
05c9ca2301a449f18b506dcf6aaf8100 | ['3a3b7818a05140b4ad9e414edba7c732'] |
1. Ren's Long-Distance Support / Sojiro Advises Yusuke
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Parting is such sweet sorrow.
> Yusuke continues to baffle pretty much everyone.
He hadn’t wanted to leave. Every deity he could think of swearing by knew that he didn’t want to leave, yet fate was cruel more often than kind. Ren Amamiya’s final road trip with the Phantom Thieves had culminated in a fantastic meal, the mood at which had been less than jovial; the imminent departure of their beloved leader was far too great a put-down to be fixed by high-quality steaks.
The man himself had valiantly fought back tears at the station platform, and was powerless to stop them when he found himself in the middle of a Phantom Thieves group hug. He found some amusement at what that must have looked like from an outside perspective, a delinquent sobbing inelegantly between the bodies of five students and a younger girl, all whist a cat rubbed his face with its own.
One by one, they had broke off, starting with Yusuke Kitagawa, who smoothed off his shirt and framed the scene in his fingers before chuckling and lowering his hands.
“No painting would do us justice.”
Next to step away was Haru Okumura, wiping tears away from both her face and Ren’s with a rolled sleeve.
“Good luck! You had better visit!” She made no effort to hide the waver in her voice.
Ann Takamaki and Makoto Niijima stepped away at the same time.
“We’re taking nothing less than a video call, you know!”
“And you better keep up your studies! No slacking off because I’m not around!”
“Don’t worry Queen, I’ll keep him in line.” Morgana raised a paw from Ren’s shoulder, and was almost shaken off when Ryuji clapped the other and shook enthusiastically.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it! This guy is gonna ace whatever they throw at him!”
That left only Futaba Sakura holding onto Ren, hugged against his chest. He placed a hand on her head, prompting her to look at him.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Mmmhnn...no.” She forced a smile. “But I’ll manage.”
With that, she let her arms drop and she stepped back. On cue, the station intercom announced the arrival of the next train, and it soon arrived in the station with a metallic screech. For a single moment, Ren imagined the unnatural red of Mementos spilling from the windows, and with a blink that thought was gone.
“I…” Emotion closed his throat. “What else can I say, other than thank you?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Ann said. “Maybe an apology for all the sass?”
“Not a chance.”
He laughed through the tears, and the train doors opened.
“I’ll see you all again. Soon. Not a chance I can forget you.”
“Oh, quit it dude, you’re gonna make us cry again!”
“I believe that ship has sailed.” Yusuke pointed to Haru and Futaba, who were making no effort to stop the tears streaming down their faces while they held each other. The latter raised a middle finger to Yusuke in response.
“Sh-sh-shut it, Inari.”
Ren couldn’t help but laugh again.
“Summer. We’ll meet in summer, I swear.”
“We’ll hold you to it, dude. Knock ‘em dead.”
Ren turned away, stepping onto the train and waited for the door to close. He punctuated the doors closing with a pair of weak finger guns, watching his teammates groan at the action. He found his seat as the train pulled away, the tears falling again as Tokyo was left behind, at least for the time being.
\---
The following four weeks had each felt a year long. There was no great fanfare for Ren’s return, only an embrace from his parents and a brief notice from the principle. From there, it was life as normal, as normal as it could get with that endless void in his heart. He felt as if he had left a piece of himself behind. That probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Having Morgana around definitely helped, but he could see the same hollow expression in the feline’s eyes as he stared off into space from time to time.
It was the most hideous feeling.
_Of course_ he’d be drawing the same reproachful eyes, _of course_ he knew that the rumours would spread. After all, no official apology had been given, only a quiet rescindment of his record. All of his fellow students simply must have thought he had completed his probation with no issue and returned to cause more trouble. Yes, that must have been it. Where he had gotten the money for the headphones that were permanently situated around his neck was anyone’s guess. They didn’t know just how close the bonds he had formed with his fellow thieves were, and now he felt more outcast than ever.
It wasn’t the stares and rumours he garnered that bothered him, it was the hole in his heart. He was well aware that there would be no way to prepare for it, and no easy way to close it. He often found his thoughts drifting back to Tokyo, back to the Phantom Thieves, to a place where they were happy, where _he_ was happy. His deep thought was just as often snapped away by a sharp rebuke for him to pay attention in class, which was almost always followed by self-righteous stares and mutterings. He endured it; taking top score in exams would wipe those smirks away.
“Morgana.”
“Hm?”
Ren was lying on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through news feeds, wondering what is friends were up to, and wondering if that camera on his phone was really off like the absence of its light suggested. Morgana was sat on his chest.
“What is it?”
Ren thought for a few more seconds before sighing and dropping his arm to the mattress.
“Forget it. Stupid question.”
“Hey, don’t give me that.” Morgana shuffled forward, his nose now mere centimeters from Ren’s. “What’s wrong?” | 9a432623638146008b5a4d00b11ec3a1 | ['3a3b7818a05140b4ad9e414edba7c732'] | The pair laughed again. Ren pulled the fabric of the sleeping bag in tighter in an effort to retain more heat.
“Why did you get abducted by tentacles though?”
“...aaaaaaaaaand that’s enough of that conversation.”
“Guessing it can be summed up with “the internet”?”
“I said that’s enough.” She gave him a cautionary poke in the chest. “Do you want me to attack you again?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation.”
“Oh my god! Winning an argument with you is impossible if you just keep dropping one-liners!”
Light, playful punches landed on his chest. Ren chuckled, placing a hand on the back of her head and wrapping his other arm around her.
“...so warm.” He muttered.
Fatigue was again creeping up on Futaba, and she allowed herself to relax in Ren’s grasp.
“...I do miss it. I mean, despite it all, all the monsters, horrible people…” He glanced at Futaba. “Tragic pasts… it was fun. I had fun.”
“That much was obvious. You really like ripping a shadow’s face off, huh?”
“Quiet you.” He fell silent for a moment. “It’s weird. It’s like, I can still feel Arsene’s presence, but I can’t hear him. It’s like he’s sat across some massive empty space.”
“What about Satanael?”
Ren scoffed, holding back his laughter for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
“Not a chance. Satanael was a transformation of Arsene, remember? That and everyone believed we existed then, too.”
“Hmmm, fair. It’s the same with Prometheus. Well, it’s Necronomicon, or at least it feels like it? I don’t know. It’s weird. Occasionally I’ll see a green glow in my hands, but then nothing. I can’t recreate it, it just happens sometimes. I don’t even know if it’s real. Like sometimes, it’s like it still whispers in my ear, telling me things. Small things, like exactly when someone will walk through a door, or something.”
“Hmmm.”
They lapsed into silence again, the heater still humming away. What a diligent machine.
“You know what I think?” Ren said, his steely eyes meeting Futaba’s.
“What?”
“I think…” Ren lifted Futaba, and the sudden lack of cover left her clinging to him as if she were a child. “This is a conversation best carried on tomorrow.”
“You are such a useless romantic.”
“Why thank you.”
Ren’s bed offered much more space than the sofa, a change that Futaba was thankful for. She waited for him to get comfortable before wrapping her arms around him.
“You best hope Sojiro doesn’t come up here.”
“Ssshhh, that’s a problem for future me.”
\---
Breakfast the next morning was graced- or burdened, in Futaba’s opinion- by the presence of Yusuke Kitagawa. _ He _ was the last person she needed to see on a Sunday morning when she was barely awake already. Not that she regretted it; she was a sucker for sci-fi, and Ren’s collection of foreign films never ceased to amaze. How he got his hands on them was beyond her.
Yusuke was of course rambling about art. Ren, to his credit, looked as if he was paying attention. For Futaba, it was in one ear, and out the other. Early morning conversations about the fine subtleties of art did not pair well with movie marathon induced fatigue.
Ren said something to Yusuke, and the latter’s eyes met hers. She snapped to attention, mainly out of concern that she would end up roped into some insane art-based scheme.
“What do you think, Futaba?”
Yusuke was holding out a photograph, and she took it, shooting a tired glare at him. There was a painting in the photo.
“Needs more colours.”
She must have offended him- not difficult- because the artist’s expression immediately darkened. She stopped listening as he began his rant, opting to rest her head in her arms and close her eyes.
“She isn’t listening, Yusuke.”
_ My saviour. _
Some more conversation passed over her head as she drowsed, and soon she felt Ren’s hand against the top of her head, stroking slowly.
“You still with us?”
“Mmhmm”
“What do you want to do today?”
“Sleep.”
“Not allowed.”
“Sit.”
She heard him laugh. He sat down next to her, and she shifted her position from leaning on the table to leaning on him. He carried on stroking her head. Sojiro shook his head with a smile from behind the counter. Ren felt as if he could sit like this forever, but he knew he couldn’t spend all day sat around doing nothing having done exactly that last night.
“I’ve got it.”
“Hmmm? You’ve got what?”
“An idea of what to do today.”
“Pray tell.”
Ren smiled. Futaba opened her eyes and quickly recognised it not as a Ren smile, but a Joker smile. He was up to something.
“Fancy going swimming?”
The circumstance could not have been more calculated. With just three words he’d boxed her into a corner so magnificently that her amazement almost eclipsed her indignation. He knew she couldn’t swim- if she said no, he’d simply bring up that fact, and no doubt Sojiro would take his side. That bastard.
Her expression did not go unnoticed. That Joker grin had vanished, and his face was the epitome of neutrality.
“I mean, you did say you didn’t know how. No better time to learn, right?”
Sojiro had looked up from behind the counter.
“That’s not a bad idea. Swimming is a valuable skill, you know.”
_ Damn you Sojiro. _
“I guess.” she conceded. She pulled Ren down by the ear. “I’ll make you pay for this.”
He merely chuckled and stood up when she released him.
“Besides, I need some exercise, and I don’t think even Ryuji would want to run in this cold. The water will be warm, at least.”
\---
“You lied to me! You said it would be warm!” |
096ac9f3fd7e42de9735d3487e5c56a0 | ['3a5c904a5954487dabd3012c1b6d49d5'] | _From the way Sancharo talked about it I thought it was a cat, but it's way too big. Is it a dog? But it climbs gates..._ It looked like a large, vaguely distressed mop.
As though sensing his thoughts, the animal turned and blinked mournful orange eyes at him from under its fringe, let out a sound that might have been a bark, or a growl, or a sneeze, and shuffled over to flop down beside him. It snuffled Saitama's bloodstained shirt. He could see its paws sticking out from under its long hair. They were broad, with long claws. _A small bear maybe?_
“Can I pet him?”
Izumi-bachan's eyes widened in alarm, no doubt picturing the other things Saitama had handled today.
“You'll be careful, won't you?”
“Uh huh!”
Saitama scratched the animal behind what he approximated to be its ear. It nuzzled closer, letting out a rumbling, whistling sound and rolling its eyes in apparent ecstasy. He couldn't see much of the rest of its face through its long hair. Curiously, he lifted its fringe, then immediately let it drop. He had seen monsters better looking than Roshi. He had seen monsters that had been better looking than Roshi _after_ he had punched them. Still, the maybe-dog seemed to have an excellent personality, and looks weren't everything. When it flopped over on its side, he obliged it by rubbing its fuzzy belly. Under its fur Roshi's skin was blueish black. It yawned, showing off a wide mouth and razor sharp tusks, and Saitama promptly gave up on guessing what sort of animal Roshi was. He'd look it up online.
Izumi-bachan tottered off after a while, muttering something about sunset and missing her shows. Saitama was glad to see her leg was feeling better. Roshi trundled after her, perhaps attracted by the half a dozen manju she had been slipping into her sleeves throughout their picnic. Saitama had caught him eyeing the plate of sweets, eyes unmistakably hopeful. He may have slipped him some karinto.
“So,” said Sancharo, refilling their cups once again. “How is it you got so strong, anyhow?”
Saitama crushed one of the brown sugar twigs between his teeth. Tasty.
“You won't believe it. No one ever does.”
“I've seen some strange things over my lifetime, son. Ain't much surprises me no more.”
Saitama told him.
“I don't believe it.”
“Told you!”
“I don't doubt what you say is true, but if training's all there is to it, I'll eat my tea tray.”
“What else could it be?”
“Desire. Do you know the story of how Oodora got his power?
“Is it a long story?” Saitama asked, suddenly wary.
“Nah, couple minutes, tops.”
“Then no, haven't heard it.”
“He was born a man, you know, the youngest son of a great lord. Got a taste for blood when he was barely grown, fighting off some invasion or other. Didn't take to peace half so well, kept picking fights. Never lost one, never spared an enemy either. Some of the bodies came back with bits missing. When I say the boy had a taste for blood, I mean it. His father finally kicked him out, sent him to tame a disputed border. Probably hoping that either he fell or gorged his appetites.
It was like trying to drown a flame in oil. The more he conquered, the stronger he got, the more that hunger grew. Strong, weak, good, evil, ally, enemy, none of that mattered to him as long as it was more. When he was finished with the border, he turned back on his homeland. Never had much taste for ruling, only conquering. Only left when it was a smoking ruin, and there was nothing left to kill. Came to the castle on the mountain planning to do the same to K City. It was the capital back then, ya know. Somewhere on the way, he changed into what he'd always been on the inside, an oni. Gathered men like him, gods knows where he found them. Found a way to change them too. Oni, every one.”
Saitama nodded. Bad habits were how a lot of Mysterious Beings sprang up, and he couldn't think of many worse than casual murder and cannibalism.
“It's said the weak are meat, and the strong eat, but me, I ain't so sure. The strong become strong by overcoming failure, but a man who never struggled, who thinks he don't have a weakness? Will look his own death in the eye and not recognize it, will cripple himself because he never learned to watch his feet.”
“So what happened? He step in a rabbit hole or something?”
“Lost a drinking contest. Poisoned wine, and a man with a hole in the bottom of his cup. No way to kill him then, so they cut off his head, and buried it deep. Rolled that big stone over it.”
“Nasty.”
“Aye. Effective, though, and it saved the world. Oodora would never have stopped with just City K.
When you say strength was something you wanted, more than anything, well. I believe you, because I've seen what desire can do.”
“Wait, I thought he was buried 500 years ago. How come you know all this stuff about him?”
“It's a good thing to know yer history, son. So as ye don't, say, go raising 500 year old monsters on accident and wrecking the local landscape.” The caterpillars were making a break for the old guy's hairline, so he was probably joking. Saitama ducked his head anyway.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Point is, if you wanted something bad enough and kept at it, changed what it is you are, well, you wouldn't be the first.” | 135371330d1046ed8fc42479b95300cc | ['3a5c904a5954487dabd3012c1b6d49d5'] | _Wait, does that make me a Mysterious Being?_ He pictured the ones he had punched. Talkative, full of energy, no respect for boundaries, always causing trouble for other people... Didn't sound like him. Was that ninja stalker guy a Mysterious Being? He'd have to ask him the next time he showed up.
“So, tell me, son,” Sancharo took a sip of his tea. “Seems to me yer plenty strong. What do you want now?”
The young mortal stared out at the expanse of trees, face utterly still. The dried blood on the side of his head was starting to flake, but the sunset reflected bright crimson in his eyes.
“A place to wash,” he said, finally, “and more of the peach jelly.”
There was a thud from beside him. Saitama had never seen anyone actually fall over laughing before. The wind picked up at the same time, the branches of the camellia shook, and he got the weird impression that the tree was laughing too.
“I can manage that, I reckon” chuckled the old man when he finally got his breath back. “Come on, I'll show you where the baths are.”
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sancharo - 山茶 (camellia japonica, literally mountain tea, can also be read as tsubaki) 老 (rou) old man/ old age
> Sancharo is a Kodama, a kami said to appear from ancient trees. Camellia Spirits (Furutsubaki no Rei) are often depicted as young women, but I went with something a bit different.
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0f/SekienKodama.jpg
> Roshi is an Otoroshi, a yokai that enjoys high places. They really are supposed to eat pigeons, as well as wicked humans.
> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/yokai/images/c/c9/Otoroshi.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20161221211151
> Hakuto jelly is a well known but somewhat pricey summer treat made with fresh Okayama peaches and mineral spring water. One Punch Land isn't exactly Japan, but I figure it has an equivalent.
> Mochi are a confection made from sweet rice, usually by rabbits on the moon.
> Daifuku are a large filled mochi. They can contain whole fruit, fruit paste, or anko - red bean paste on its own or mixed with fruit. I recommend the ones filled with ice cream
> Manju are a confection similar to mochi, but with an outside made of a mix of starches rather than just rice flour. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and are often filled with anko.
> Karinto are an old fashioned sweet made from brown sugar. They are deep fried and have a burnt appearance. They come in 100 yen bags, so I imagine Saitama is familiar with them.
>
> As a being who feeds on sorrow, Nakunakubaba has a natural love of soap operas. |
7b659ca859314a0dbbb2edf92940ca8d | ['3a71b13261b64aa5a32d8ca686bcb369'] | Journey
He looked at me, and said "you should become a vampire, its great, you can compel people to do or say whatever you like then erase their memory after, you can also use the memory erasure method if you become a human blood feeder like me, or you become like my brother Stefan, who feeds upon animals, but it doesn't make you powerful really. But human blood gives you that power, makes you strong, and hear from long distances , you can move really fast too, and the most important thing of all... You'll be able to live forever". I looked at Damon thoughtfully and said calmly "I just worry that I'll be a ripper like your brother can be when he gets just the slightest taste of human blood! I couldn't deal with that, it would just be too much for me!" I felt my eyes welling up and burning with tears, Damon walked upto me and cuddled me whilst whispering in my ear "thats what the humanity switch is for, its like a button you can press, you can turn off your emotions and feed off people guilt free!". I looked up at him with tears running down my face, he wiped them away with his thumbs, I just went upstairs my mind full of confusion and just so many other emotions, could I become a vampire? could I deal with it? I didnt know. I walkd into my bedroom and sat on my bed and stared out of the window, thinking and wondering, could I live with eternal hunger , for blood? I shook my head in doubt, I lay back on my bed and slept. Several hours later, I woke up to the sight of a starry night out of my window, I decided to go downstairs and talk to Damon, I hurried downstairs, and realised that Damon had gone! I walked through the whole house to make sure he wasnt joking about, as he has that sort of humour, but he was nowhere to be seen, I went for a evening stroll outside, when I passed a nearby wood I heard something, like slurping and growling, reminded me of the noise I heard when Damon bit my wrist that day, then I realised it had to be Damon feeding off something or someones blood, I said carefully and quietly "Damon, is that you?" I heard footsteps slowly towards me, and what I saw chilled me to my bones, even though I had seen Damon seconds after he had fed or was about to feed, this sight was scary on a whole other level, it was a young man about my height, 5ft 2in, maybe a little taller actually, his hair was in a upward quiff , and it was mousey brown, he had small even features, he had blood around his mouth and fangs, his eyes were black, he said in a low gravelly whisper, "no this isnt Damon, I am his younger brother, Stefan. And you are?", I swallowed in fear, my heart rate quickened, I ran as fast as I could. I finally got to my house, I saw a figure in the shadows, as I walked closer I realised it was Stefan, he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, I noticed his eyes were no longer black, they were more of a dark green colour, I found that odd because Damon's eyes are a piercing bright blue colour, I guess not all sibling's eyes are the same colour. In one quick flash of time Stefan was in front of me, he said in a low tone, "you didn't answer my question, I asked who you were and for some reason you just ran away", I looked at his mouth, it still had blood round it, I said with a scared tremble in my voice "Well I could see you were busy and I didn't want to disturb you, and I'll answer your question, my name is Rachel". Stefan chuckled slightly , then he circled me, it made me feel uncomfortable, like I was his next victim or something, my heart was pounding with fear, I just wanted to get inside my house and lock all the doors and windows, safe and secure! Then within a split second he was right in front of me, he stared at me deeply in the eyes, his pupils were contracting, I felt like I was in a trance, then he spoke firmly and clearly, "Rachel, you will do exactly as I say when I say it, you will not run or hide, you will simply just obey me, do you understand?", I replied in a dazed voice, " Yes I understand". He then smiled, but not a smile of friendliness, it was more a smile of evil satisfaction, then I looked at him and smiled smugly and held up my wrist, containing vervain, which is a herb that prevents humans from being compelled, I laughed at him and said "Damon gave me this a little while ago, I managed to convince you that being compelled by you worked, it did not, because I do not want to be anybody's slave!" Stefan looked at me with a mixture of anger and also sadness, like he felt guilty about his attempt to compel me, maybe he did, but I just ran past him and into my house and locked all the doors and windows and went upstairs to my room, I had made my decision on the subject of becoming a vampire, despite how wonderful Damon made it sound to be one, even if i did pick up the animal blood diet, I just wouldn't be able to deal with it, so now ends my journey of choices. The End. | 7121de4d7df84d408e330e398e21013c | ['3a71b13261b64aa5a32d8ca686bcb369'] |
Damon And Me
I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes, I heard some noise downstairs like someone had broken in, I crept down, my heart rate increased with fear, I walked into the sitting room, noone was there, so I crept up the hallway, and looked into the kitchen, still nobody there, then i felt some heat on the back of my neck and steady breathing, I turned around quickly to find Damon Salvatore standing there, he locked me with an intense stare, he said quietly “Hello Rachel, what are you doing up so late?”, I said shakily “Just reading, I couldn’t sleep” , he smiled and laughed softly and said “Well, I could help you, soothe you, relax you”, I eyed him suspiciously “What do you have in mind?”, he walked me up against the wall and ran his hand along my jaw line and down to my neck and whispered “A massage, unless you can think of something better?”, And he kissed me deeply, I moaned in response, so did he, he ran his hands down to the small of my back and around my waist, and he rubbed his fingertips on my hips, and he broke the kiss and whispered “You like that?”, I just nodded, caught up in the sensations he was giving me.
He carried on rubbing my hips with his fingertips, he moved in closer and whispered in my ear, “So, you wanna take this further upstairs?”, I looked at him with pure lust and desire, and I said “Yes” and with that we ran upstairs, and collapsed on my bed, we kissed again, then again he broke the kiss and started kissing my neck gently, then he moved his hand down my body until he reached my pussy and started rubbing it softly, I moaned and gasped , my back arched with pleasure, he chuckled and said ‘ Something tells me you like this , huh?’, I managed to catch my breath and said “I love it, you’re so good”. He smiled and kissed me again, I then moved my hand down and rubbed his cock he moaned “Mmm you’re good with your hands too I see”, I smiled and said “Yep, I certainly am”, we then after a while of doing that, moved up the bed and had hot passionate sex, I felt so full and in a completely different world altogether, nothing else existed except me and him, moving together and lost in total sexual bliss and pleasure, we finally came together. I climbed off him gently, and we kissed once again, I fell asleep after a while. And he just laid there staring at me. I really hope that he feels the same way about me. I woke up the next morning to find him sleeping peacefully, I kissed him gently on the lips, ran my fingers through his hair, he stirred a little, I smiled and felt that familiar warm rush through my body, it was a feeling like that , that indicated that this was more than just fling, it was becoming true love, I sighed happily, and laid back down, and cuddled him, and fell back to sleep.
Several hours later, I felt some movement next to me in my sleep, I woke up with a start and looked around frantically, and just saw Damon sitting up staring right back at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his, you could get lost in them forever, he smiled his devilsh smile and said 'Sleep well?' I smiled back at him and said 'Yes thank you, you?' he ran his fingers through his hair and said ' Yep, like a log thanks, so what do you wanna do today?' , I looked kind of dazed and lost in my thoughts, I was remembering what had happened last night , was so hot and intense and passionate..
Damon clicked his fingers in front of my eyes, ' Earth to Rachel!', I looked down feeling embarrassed 'Sorry, I was just thinking that's all' , Damon raised his eyebrows in interest, 'what were you thinking?', he put his arm around me, my heart raced, it felt so good being touched and enbraced by him, I felt so lucky to be with him, I smiled and said ' About last night, everything that happened' Damon smiled again, a naughty kind of smile, and said seductively 'Well if you like it could happen again', and we kissed passionately and fell onto the bed, he stopped kissing me, and started kissing my neck, i sighed with pleasure, he stopped and said, ' why don't we try this a different way?', I looked at him questioningly he said ' trust me you'll like it', I nodded slowly he picked me up and carried me across the room and pushed me up against the wall, he had my hands pinned up, he ran his hands all over my body and kissed me again, he wrapped my legs around his waist, and he lifted my nightie up, and just slid into me with ease,
we both inhaled deeply at the intense connection we shared, both physically and emotionally, we kissed again moaning at each movement, he whispered his voice loaded with arousal ' you're so wet, feels so good', I smiled and managed to reply ' I know, you did that', and we carried on, after a while he sped up a little getting closer to orgasm, then he reached it and held me close breathing heavily in my ear, and he slowly and passionately kissed me, we just stayed there for a while recovering, lost in the aftermath of our session then we went back to bed and just laid down and cuddled.
I felt so happy; everything in my life was as it should be. We lay there staring at each other, playing with each other’s hair, smiling, just a moment of unspoken words, and just loving gestures, as happy as I felt, there was a deep feeling inside me which told me Damon was hiding something from me, something big and possibly dangerous to an extent. But I momentarily brushed that feeling away and moved closer to him, our lips locked in a passionate kiss. We broke the kiss, I stared at him with so much love and affection, he said 'you make me so happy' I just said sadly and slightly fearfully' Well I'm not happy, I can't help but think you're hiding something from me, something major' Damon looked away and out the window and said quietly and slightly coldly, ' there is, but to tell you, I'd have to kill you' , I felt my stomach dip, I hoped he was joking, but another part of me thought he was serious.
I just sat on the bed , I kept very still, he turned around and moved over and knelt next to me and started stroking and kissing my neck, he whispered ' hmmm, your neck smells tasty, good enough to eat' I moved away suddenly, he looked at me perplexed and said 'what's wrong? I was complimenting you honey, and every girl loves compliments' he then chuckled and said while looking still looking at me ' well or so I thought'. I still hadn't said a word, I started to get more and more frightened, I didn't know what was he capable of, and I didn't want to find out either. Damon started to walk out of the room.
I called after him ' Damon, please tell me what's going on' he turned around and ran his fingers through his hair while he replied ' nothing, nothing at all' and he looked down at the floor and sighed, he walked towards me until he was right up close to me, and said slowly and carefully ' all I’m going to say is this, make sure you don't ever cut yourself or fall when you're around me, anything that'd result in heavy bleeding' I looked at him confused and said ' what do you mean?' Damon sighed again and said ' never mind, it's not important honestly, well.... I don't think you're ready for the truth yet' and with that he turned and went downstairs. I dreaded what was next to come. I sat on the bed, I felt a chill run through my body, a chill of fear. I didn't know what to think or do, I just wish he would come out with it and tell me the truth then it'll be all over and done with, but maybe his secret will change my life forever, in many ways. Only time will tell. I must have fallen asleep, cause I woke up and it was dark, all of a sudden I saw Damon standing at the end of the bed staring at me intently, I said quietly, ' how long have you been standing there?', he replied ' ah just a few hours, not too long, are you ok?' he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to me, and ran his finger through my hair softly, I said nervously ' I don't know Damon, what you said this morning scared me' he looked puzzled and said ' what did I say this morning hun?' I hesitated for a while, I just shook my head and said ' oh never mind, it doesn't matter' I moved to get out of bed and he stopped me and pinned me down and kissed me deeply while stroking my neck, and he whispered ' I am sorry if i scared you hun, it's the last thing I want to do, as I said though, I don't think you're ready for the truth about me yet, about the most darkest secret I've ever had to keep for many years, but I hope you'll understand when I do tell you one day, but for now let's push it aside, and have a nice cuddle, ok?' I smiled up at him, but on the inside I was screaming with frustration, why couldn’t he just tell me his secret?! What's so dark about it?? I finally came out of my thoughts and back into reality and just said ' Ok'. And with that we cuddled, enjoying the feeling of warmth of our embrace. He then pulled my head towards his and kissed me deeply and then he moved down to my neck and started kissing it, then it seemed he was enjoying it in a different way, like he was satisfying some sort of hunger, I pulled away from him suddenly and looked at him in a shocked and confused expression 'what's wrong with you?!' then I noticed his eyes had changed colour and gone bloodshot, then the whole of his eyes turned dark red, he opened his mouth slightly, I saw his canines had got longer and sharper, like fangs, he moved towards me with a fixed expression of pure hunger and lust, but a different kind of lust altogether, and I didn't want to find out, I screamed and ran out of the room, and ran down the stairs and out into the garden, to find him standing there expectantly, how had he done that?! I was so frightened I could hear my own pulse pounding through my body in my veins and my heart, just everything in me felt magnified and filled with panic and fear. Within a second Damon was directly in front of me, he said in a gravelly tone to his voice, a tone I'd never heard before, ' Now you're going to see what I can do, what my secret is, unless you can guess?' I looked at him, he looked terrifying with his eyes so red I said slowly and very nervously ' God I sound insane for saying what I'm about to say, but it's all I can think of, ... you're a vampire, aren't you?' he smiled, 'yes, Rachel, I certainly am, and what's more I can prove it' and with one quick movement he took my left wrist in his hand and bit into it, I let out a chocked scream of agony, he moaned in hungered satisfaction, then after a few seconds, he pulled away, I saw my blood around his mouth, and on his fangs, he said seductively ' you taste good in more ways than one don't you?' I just stood there, in shock of everything that had happened, I couldn't believe it, my own lover is a vampire, but I guess anything can happen in the world, even this. I looked at him, he fixed me with an intense stare, but a hint of sadness too, like he wished he wasn’t a vampire and just a normal human being, he walked up to me took my wrist and kissed it where it had been bitten and lowly licking the blood off it, cleaning the wound, afterwards he went into the kitchen and washed his hands and his mouth out, I followed him in, i still hadn’t said anything, I mean it’s not every day , or any day so I thought that you find out your partners a vampire! He walked up to me and hugged me tightly and said sadly ‘ I’m so sorry I bit you, I just felt like I had to prove a point, I didn’t think you’d believe me otherwise! Please forgive me.’ I looked him, and finally said ‘ I do forgive you, I’m just pretty shocked still about all of this, it just seems very surreal to me, kind of like a dream, or even a nightmare, difference is I can’t wake up from this one’. Damon broke the hug and softly ran his finger through my hair and said tearfully ' I know how you feel sweetie, but you'll understand it as time goes on I promise! I'll help you see things from my perspective somehow and just understand me fully, and then we'll be happy together and we can do this properly' I sighed and felt my eyes well up with tears and said ' promises can be broken, they're MADE to be broken, I'm a human Damon, humans and vampires are just not a good combination, I care about you I really do but it's not going to work, unless..' I hesitated for a moment, it seemed like an eternity though, what I was about to say, that’s if Damon would do it, would change my life forever, ' unless you turn me', Damon looked at me shocked, he paced the room, and finally he said ' are you sure? I mean once it's done that's it! No going back on it Rachel, I just want you to be sure Hun that's all, maybe it's best you think hard about it, it's a life-changing decision you know' I smiled a little and said ' I know, and I'll think about it, just for you'.I walked into the living room and sat on the sofa, Damon followed me and sat down with me, we cuddled and kissed for a while, then after a while Damon said 'are you sure you want to go through with this? I can deal with being with you as you are, I can control my thirst I know I can! Trust me hun.' I looked at him and smiled and said 'Ok then, if I can trust you then I'll remain as I am'
The End |
2c7922fe7c704bcc8ee5afeb4b4ceced | ['3a733559ac9c46ccac244579e3b2762c'] | Otabek looked curiously at everything. Watching every detail. The palace was enormous, the Ice City was beautiful, even more white than Alva, and that's saying something. He saw this old man waiting at the gates of the palace and didn’t believe when Yuri told him he was Yakov. He was the ruler of the city, and yet there he was, waiting at the gates as a servant would do.
“I’m glad you came back so quickly!” Yakov said, helping Yuri dismount.
“I’m glad we’re back already! I miss my bed so much!” Yuri laughed. “Yakov, this is Otabek Altin. Otabek, this is Yakov Feltsman, the regent of the Ice City.”
“I’m honoured to meet you.” Yakov said to Otabek, and he was in a lost of words. All he could say was repeat every word Yakov said to him.
“I hope there’s a bath ready for me… I’m exhausted.” Yuri said, and one of the maids that was there for the reception of the prince started to go inside. “Prepare a bath for Otabek too! With the woody fragrance.”
“Yes, your highness.” she said and rushed inside.
“You… There’s no need to…” Otabek tried to say, but Yuri interrupted him.
“Shh… I want you to relax and rest now, I know you’re tired. Damn it, I’m tired, I can only imagine you…”
“Thank you.”
“I want to take a bath too, what do you think, Yuuri?” Victor said, looking suggestively to his husband.
“You two are disgusting…” Yuri said, now entering the palace, followed by Yakov, Otabek and the couple.
“I hope you’re not so tired, Yurachika, I selected some books you’ll have to read until the end of the week.” Yakov said, making Yuri groan in annoyance.
Otabek was astonished that Yuri didn’t have the life he imagined. He thought the aristocratic life was only do what you want and command others. Yuri decided he would guide Otabek to his bath himself, and when they’re both done, they would go for a tour around the palace.
“You will live here, I’m sure you’ll want to know everything about it.” Yuri said, animatedly. “How’s your swordsmanship?”
“I trained when I was not working, but I never had a teacher.” Otabek said.
“We will see your level and then you can train with any of the palace’s masters.” Yuri said. “And then, we can go to the kitchen and take some cookies.”
“What about the books?” Otabek asked.
“I’ll read them later.” Yuri dismissed him. “I already asked the maids to get a room ready to be yours, and by nightfall I’ll take you there.”
“I’ll take some time to adjust to this lifestyle.” Otabek concluded out loud.
“But you’ll get there. I’m sure.” Yuri said. “If not, well, we can adapt.”
After the bath, they made the tour, stopped to eat and check Otabek’s level at swordsmanship. He was not at a knight level, but he was agile and light on his feet, with some learning on the basics he couldn’t have without a teacher, he would grow fast.
Yuri was happy to see Otabek making an effort, and finally understood why Victor mentioned it so much to Yuuri. It’s not easy to leave all you knew, all you had and start another life, on a place you didn’t know anyone and a new way of life. This tiny proud feeling started to grow in his heart.
“I guess we did enough today. If you want, you can have dinner at your room and sleep.” Yuri said. “Usually, the maids wake us up at 7am, and we have breakfast at the dining room. But I’ll ask them to leave you to sleep as long as you want.”
“You don’t need to. I want to get used to the schedule. But I will accept dinner at my room tonight.”
“So, this is your room. If you want anything, from changing colors to furniture, you can ask me and I’ll have it done. I’ll ask a maid to bring your dinner. Are you sure you want to wake up early tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll feel better, I’m sure.” Otabek assured him.
“Okay, good night.” Yuri said and left.
Otabek looked around the big room. It had a small room first, with a sofa and a coffee table, expensive rug on the floor. Then, as an adjacent room, the bedroom was huge. A big four-posted bed that looked soft and inviting, a small table with two chairs, a big wardrobe and a desk by the window decorated the room. All colours were sober, and he liked it how it was. He hadn’t brought much, his clothes were hung on the wardrobe, a picture of his mother that was the only thing of his family left was on the desk.
The room was easily bigger than his entire house at Alva. He took a deep breath and started to roam around the room. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and the maid put the tray on the small table and left, being very polite. He ate and changed, and as soon as his head rested on the pillow, he was asleep.
-*-*-*-*-
Yuri wanted to go back to his room, but he knew he was too uneasy to sleep right now. He wanted to stop the flow of thoughts that was consuming him since all this began. How could he make Otabek see that the gods have chosen them to be together. He himself was a bit skeptic, and that’s why he ended up at Lilia’s door, he guessed.
“Come in.” she said from the inside.
“Hey…” he said, not knowing how to start the conversation.
“I heard you arrived today, but didn’t expect you to come and see me. Are you ill? Need something to make you sleep?”
“No… I came because I wanted some… guidance. I don’t think… I think you’ll be the best person to ask this.” | 89ab3974f55a4d30a9eb8dedecc07a85 | ['3a733559ac9c46ccac244579e3b2762c'] | He knew the distraction will be good to him, but Yuri was distracted during training. He was thinking about the ceremony still. The birthday party/coronation would be in two days and all the palace was being decorated as nothing Otabek has seen thus far.
“Yuri, if this was a real fight, I would have killed you three times already…” Otabek said.
“I’m sorry.” Yuri said, the exact opposite of what he thought his reaction would be.
“Yura…” he sighed. “Come here.”
Yuri obeyed right away, clinging onto Otabek as if his life depended on it. He was even worse than Otabek thought.
“We should go back, you’re too sensitive…”
“I’m not.” he sobbed.
“Oh… I’m sorry mister ‘I’m not sobbing on my boyfriend’s arms right now’.” Otabek laughed, and it must have made it’s entitled effect on Yuri, because he twisted and let go of Otabek immediately.
“I’m not.” he said again. “I’m just so tired of feeling like this, like I cannot do what I’m supposed to. I know there’ll be many people by my side and I appreciate each and everyone of you, but in the end I’ll be the king.”
“Don’t worry, the gods wouldn’t give you more than you can take. You’re meant to be great, Yura.” Otabek said confidently.
“I’ll try not to think about it from now on. Let’s try dueling again. I don’t like losing to you.” he said.
“You do it all the time… I thought you got used to it.” Otabek said, smirk on his face.
Yuri was caught like a fish on Otabek’s bait. They fighted all afternoon. On that night, they ardently made love. And the next night as well. Everything for Yuri to forget the weight put on his shoulders from the next day and beyond.
They were getting ready for the ceremony, Otabek was doing Yuri’s tie knot when they heard a knock on the door.
“Come in.” Yuri said.
“Yuratchka! I just wanted to wish you good luck before you get to the ceremony.” Mila said, getting inside the room. “You two look gorgeous!”
“Thanks, Mila.” Otabek said. “Do you wish me to leave you alone?” he knew they were old friends, and would understand if she wanted to speak to Yuri privately.
“It’s not necessary.” Mila said. “I have to head downstairs right now.”
She was dressed in knight’s robes, her ceremony happened not long ago. Mila wished all best again and closed the door again.
“We have to go too.”
“I want a good luck’s kiss before.” Yuri said.
“And you shall have it.” Otabek said kissing him intensely. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Let’s get this over with.”Yuri said.
They linked fingers and went to the ball room.
-*-*-*-*-
As the king of the Ice City, Yuri Plisetsky had made very much in so little time. People adored him and the symbolic gush of fresh air he was for the kingdom. Even after Yakov passed away and let Victor handle the counseling, the realm continued prosper.
As the king’s husband and soulmate, Otabek was liked very much as well. People knew he was a human, but his knowledge about the City, the customs, and their beliefs had made them accept the fact he was so important for the realm.
“Yura… What are you looking at?” Otabek asked, hugging his husband from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder best he could.
“I was only thinking. You know I love you.”
“I do.”
“But when I first had my dream, I didn’t want to. I wanted to ignore it. To let you go.” Yuri said. “I’d never forgive myself if I’ve done it. I need you by my side so much right now.”
“I’d never forgive you, too.” Otabek said. “If you didn’t come for me, I’d still be at Alva, living an insignificant life. I wouldn’t have a purpose.”
They let that casual silence settle while looking at the night sky. The silence was soothing. They were used to it by now.
“Come to bed, we have to wake up early tomorrow.” Otabek finally said.
“I’ll go in a minute.” Yuri turned and kissed him lovingly.
“Don’t linger outside, you’ll get a cold.” Otabek said and went inside.
“I love you, too.” Yuri said to himself, turning to see Otabek falling on their bed.
**Author's Note:**
> So... Any compliment and constructive criticism is welcomed, I'm trying really hard to improve my writing.
>
> Thanks for reading! |
9b803cbe6d36492497e00fd27f7d259c | ['3a79fe6c1c4541b4b21c52904048c564'] | She stiffened, but just for a second, before it hit her just how _right_ it felt. She opened her lips beneath his and moved closer, allowing his arms to envelop her again, her own hands sliding up to the back of his neck.
There had been boys before him. She knew there had been girls in Fitz' life before her. She couldn't, however, ever remember anyone who made her feel like this with just a kiss. He tasted like cinnamon toothpaste, smelled like clean laundry and soap. The skin on her bare arms tingled where he touched her. She felt the goosebumps cross her body as his tongue dipped against hers, and she heard herself moan softly. She was surprised to realize that her heart wasn't racing, given her mind _was_ , but she chalked it up to her body knowing it was right and nothing to panic over.
When they broke the kiss, Jemma didn't move her fingers from his hair and he held onto her like she'd disappear if he let go. "Fitz," she breathed.
"Don't, Jemma." She was startled by his interruption. "Don't say you regret that. _Please_ don't say it."
She stroked the skin behind his ear with her thumb. "Never. I was just going to say I really should get to bed." He nodded slightly, looking a bit defeated, until she continued. "You could join me, if you like."
He raised an eyebrow, his arms tightening around her waist. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure," she replied. "Merry Christmas, Leo."
He grinned, and she returned the expression. Sure, it wasn't a perfect Christmas, and sure, she was still worried about Coulson.
"Merry Chris - " She cut off his sentence with another kiss.
For just a little while, Jemma figured, they were allowed to be happy. | 55b8a80b632241e193fe9df269ce25a8 | ['3a79fe6c1c4541b4b21c52904048c564'] | “Jemma Simmons, you tease.” He kisses me, and it strikes me that this is only our third kiss ever. I wonder if things would have been different if S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t picked us up. Would we have ended up together in the regular world? Or would we have never crossed paths? The idea of never knowing Fitz hits a little too close and I press closer against him. “You all right?”
“Just a little chilly,” I lie, not wanting to tell him where my mind had gone. “I’m fine.”
He lets me go and unbuttons his cardigan, tossing it over my shoulders. “Better?” he asks with a smile. I grin back, smelling the light cologne that permeates the soft material. “C’mon, let’s go home.”
~
The soft murmur of the bunker at night greets us as we swipe back in a little while later. Some of our fellow scientists are still working in the lab, and I wave at Lily, our newest recruit, as Fitz and I walk past. Coulson’s office door is closed, which most likely means he’s gone to his room; I can hear Skye’s voice in the common area, followed by Lincoln’s and Mack’s laughter.
“Do we want to go in there?” Fitz asks me, slowing down, swinging our hands loosely between us.
“No, I think I’d like to keep tonight between just the two of us for as long as possible.”
He smirks, lifting my fingers to his lips, and we continue on towards his room. He flips on the light and shuts the door as I sit down on the bed, and for the first time in hours, we aren’t physically touching. I slip off his sweater and put it on the mattress beside me, laying my purse on top of it. Fitz turns to face me, his eyes still glittering from the champagne.
“Fitz, I had a lot of fun tonight. I’m sorry we didn’t do this sooner.”
“Me, too.” He reaches out, and I lift my face in anticipation, but instead, his fingers pull out the bobby pins holding my hair back. When both sides are free, I raise an eyebrow at him. “There. You look more like my Jemma when your hair’s loose.”
_My Jemma._ The way he says it sends a chill down my spine. “I wanted to look nice,” I admit, feeling a little silly. It’s obvious suddenly that Fitz likes—loves?—me in anything.
“You look stunning,” he replies, this time actually brushing my face. “You look stunning in your pajamas, in jeans, and in this dress. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I reach up and take his hand, tugging him until he’s kneeling in front of me. “I love you.” It’s too soon and too late all at once, but it has to be said and I feel lighter and happier than I have in ages.
Fitz’s face lights up, his freckles highlighted by the blush now crossing his cheeks. He kisses me all over my face, reminding me of that horrible night in the ocean, but this time, he takes it one step past what I’d done and ends on my lips. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.” His voice is rough, and I see the tears welled in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, cupping his face in my hands. “I love you, Leo Fitz. I love you.” I press my lips to his again, sighing softly when his arms encircle me. I don’t want the night to end. I don’t want him to let me go. I’m tired of being apart from him. We’re _FitzSimmons_ for a reason, and I don’t ever want to be just _Simmons_ again.
~
We wake up almost simultaneously the next morning, Fitz’s arms around my waist and Skye’s dress wrinkled so badly I’m sure I’m going to be putting down for dry cleaning. Despite the clear agreement that we’re allowed to be together, I don’t know how anyone would take the news that we slept together (even though that’s honestly all we did) well, so I roll over and kiss Fitz hello before climbing out of bed and grabbing my things.
“I’ll see you later.” He yawns, smiles, and waves as I slip out the door and start back to my room.
“Hey, good morning, Simmons!” comes Mack’s booming, happy voice.
_Bloody hell._ |
788a745b6fb049528915ac2ba31221f2 | ['3a9319ec2c404307997d002dc702b67b'] | “You don’t have to,” you say. Love overwhelms you and you feel stray tears fall from your eyes. Victoria wipes them away and kisses you again. This kiss is soft and affectionate because you both realize how delicate this thing you both share is. How easily it could be broken and lost if taken for granted. You feel her soft lips massage yours as her hands move to the back of your neck. She pushes herself into you as gently as possible, wanting for more of you, taking in as much of you as she can. She makes you feel irresistible and her tongue seems to beg you for more. You give as much as you can and your arms are around her body, pulling just as much as she’s pushing.
When you both finally part, Victoria is frowning again. “We need to get you cleaned up,” she touches the under of your nose, where the blood has dried. “I fucking hope I gave that asshole worse, but you actually look pretty bad.”
“Thanks,” you roll your eyes as she laughs again. _God it’s so good to hear her laugh_. “I kinda want to continue kissing you though,” you hug her tightly.
“Max, it’s like 6pm, I think you’re way overdue for a shower.”
“Holy shit, I thought it was still early morning.”
“You pretty much slept through your entire Saturday. That’s why I came to check on you,” Victoria gets off you and pulls you up from the bed. “Do you want to sneak out of campus after your shower? Maybe get an awesome dinner somewhere?”
“Hella yes!” You jump excitedly. “Two Whales?”
Victoria rolls her eyes, “Fine, but I get to join you in the shower.”
“Sure, that’s not even a trade. Just sounds like more win for me,” You wiggle your eyebrows cheekily. “You have very poor trading skills.”
“And you have very poor taste in food.”
**Author's Note:**
> Real life has been a little bit tough for me recently and this was the only piece of writing I could output. Thanks for the kudos so far, glad you guys enjoyed the other two pieces. | 0cd18355d50d4aec979074ed5442c2fa | ['3a9319ec2c404307997d002dc702b67b'] |
A Trade
**Author's Note:**
> I just need a lot more Chasefield in my life.
“Get back here, Caulfield!”
You run as fast as you can, past the students milling around the narrow corridors of Blackwell Academy.
“You will not live till tomorrow!”
Running any faster is a struggle as find yourself already out of breath. Not because you’re not fit (not that you are really fit in the first place), but because you can’t control the laughter in you. Students turn their heads towards you as you run past them, a wild chick with crazy eyes, waving a polaroid picture in your hand.
“I know where your room is!”
You turn around for a split second and wink at the figure down the hall. A tall angry figure, outlined by the blonde hair on her head and skin that seem to shine in the light. Victoria stands with her feet apart, as if contemplating if she should bother chasing after you. But you are running again with the picture of her, frozen mid-sneeze, in your hands. You hold onto it as if you had just caught a picture of a unicorn.
-
“Max, open up!”
You open your eyes with a groan. Your clock shows an ungodly hour and you stretch your tired body, exhausted from the run earlier today. You try and blink yourself awake, but when you hear three loud knocks (or slams) on your door, you grin and find yourself wide awake.
“Who is it?” you ask, as if you don’t know the owner of the furious knocks on the other side of your door.
“You damn well know who I am. Open this door now, Caulfield, or I swear –“
You swing the door wide open and see Victoria with her fist raised, ready to wreak havoc onto your door again. She looks at you with her eyes wide open as if caught in an unnatural act. You keep a straight face and look at her expectantly because you know that keeping your cool makes Victoria uncomfortable.
The beauty queen (you assume she’s won beauty pageants before) clears her throat and folds her arms. You see her back straighten as she poises herself for conflict and stares at you for a moment, daring you to lose your cool before she does. And you are just about to when she speaks, “Where is that damn photo, Caulfield.”
Your lips press into a thin line as you refrain from smiling. “You know for a person whose last name is Chase, you are pretty bad at it,” you say as you arch your eyebrow. _Keep your cool_ , you tell yourself, as if being cool is the name of the game.
“Oh trust me, Caulfield, there are many ways to chase something… or _someone_ ,” Victoria growls as she pushes her way past you and into your room. She takes in your room with condescend, her arms still folded. You can’t stop from blushing a little because you are sure she notices the pile of clothes on your desk chair. You had meant to fold them and keep them in your closet, but you remembered you were a single, lazy teenager living on your own and it wasn’t like you were expecting company. Well, in all honesty, you knew that you should have expected Victoria after the picture you had taken of her.
“You can sit on the bed,” you tell Victoria. She rolls her eyes and elegantly takes a sit at the edge of your bed. She immediately crosses her legs, a habit you guess she’s acquired right out of etiquette classes. You wonder how a person can sit so upright on something so soft and comfy.
“As I were saying,” Victoria clears her throat, “That picture you took of me today is not an accurate depiction of the kind of person I truly represent and I would like - no, I would _need_ you to give it to me right now and never speak of it again.” You see Victoria’s eyebrows crossed, but are surprised that she hasn’t blown up into that mega Hulk bitch you know she’s capable of.
You frown and pretend to deliberate whether you should fulfil her request. “I will trade you for it,” you say with a cheeky smile.
“Trade?” It is Victoria’s turn to frown. “Alright, fine,” she unfolds her arms and stands up. “You can come to the Vortex party this Friday, God knows that’s the only reason you are trying my patience with this ridiculous affair right now.” She puts her left hand on her waist and lifts her right hand, ready to receive the picture.
“Vic, I don’t care about a stupid Vortex party.”
“Ugh,” Victoria throws her hands in the air and you know that she is close to her green mutant form. “What _do_ you want then, Max?”
You smile because she called you Max. “I will trade you that picture for a kiss.”
“What!” Your eyebrows mimic Victoria’s raised ones because you are equally as shocked as her at your audacity.
“A kiss,” you force yourself to continue. “And it has to be proper. And okay, I won’t tell anyone,” you add the last bit just in case.
“Jesus, Max. I knew you had the hots for me, but if you think I think the same of you – “
“It’s just a trade, Vic. It doesn’t have to mean anything. What are you afraid of?” You cross your arms as a challenge. Victoria stays quiet and studies you for a moment as if waiting for you to budge. You keep your composure still and steady.
Victoria finally sighs, “Fine.” You start to grin as she continues, “But I swear, you better get it out of your stupid little head if you think that I have even a single remote feeling for you.” You simply shrug and unfold your arms.
You take a step closer to her and wait expectantly. She hesitates for a bit before stepping to close the gap between the two of you and you find yourself face to face with the prettiest, meanest bitch of Blackwell Academy. _So beautiful though_ , you think to yourself. Victoria’s eyes dart around for a moment and you feel the same nerves that she probably feels as well. But as her eyes finally rest on yours, you notice the depth in them.
Her brown eyes capture you and you are reminded of autumn and coffee and everything warm that eventually cools. You notice her perfect face and her perfect complexion. Her pink lips have a dark tinge to it and she smells lightly of cigarettes. She is both warm and cold, soft and hard. You recall moments where you notice her often hidden kindness before her usual explosive cruelness. You know that Victoria is not as she seems.
Your lips are only inches from hers and you feel her breath on you. Neither of you seem to close the small gap between you, but somehow gravity seems to pull both of you towards each other. When your lips finally meet, you notice her eyes close naturally just before you close yours. The kiss is soft at first, but you feel Victoria’s hands cup your cheeks and slowly pull you in for more. You raise your hands and place them on her waist.
You taste both coffee and cigarettes and perhaps some mint, but you aren’t sure. You feel her lips part further as you tilt your head a little. Her hands move to the back of your neck and you feel her gently pulling you closer as if asking for more. You feel your heart racing as a dying need grows inside of you, the need to taste more of her. The need to feel her close to you, to hug her tight and to never let her go. You feel a moan building up in you and it becomes too much. You let your nerves take over and pull back before you embarrass yourself or scare her off.
Victoria’s hands are still holding the back of your neck and you see that her pupils are blown. The both of you drop your hands at the same time and you rub your arm in nervousness. You become so shy, you can’t bring yourself to look into that same hazelnut eyes you were so lost in just a moment ago and neither of you make eye contact again. “Um,” you hum as you look for your camera bag. You spot it at the corner of your bed and grab it hurriedly, your nerves making you extremely uncomfortable as your mind begins to process the fact that you just kissed (or made out with) Victoria.
You unzip your camera bag and pull out the photo that started all of this. The photo that brought Victoria to your room. The reason that Victoria made out with you. You remind yourself that it was all for the photo and nothing to do with her feelings. And your own feelings didn’t matter, definitely not to Victoria. “Here,” you turn to her and hold the picture out in front of her. She looks at it, her left hand folded as her right hand seem to touch and linger on the lips you’ve just kissed. You almost jump out of your skin as she looks straight at you and snatches the photo right out of your hand.
You feel like her gaze could literally melt you where you stand. You start to turn and show her the way out of your room before you actually do, but she grabs your hands and forces the photo back into them. You stare at the picture for a few seconds, confused. You look back up at her and start to question her when you feel her lips crash against yours. This time the kiss is desperate and you both try to taste as much of each other as possible. She wants so much of you that she presses her body against yours, as if having no space between your bodies is still too much space for her. Soon, you find yourself off-balance and fall backwards onto your bed.
She is standing over you and you are both breathing heavily. “Hold on to that photo,” she commands, “We’re not done trading yet.” She climbs onto you and your lips meet again for the third time. |
5ce7406422e448f7a73b99f6be0bb15c | ['3ade27a1fde04aa5b41b48ceb2aa6e62'] | The Captain took his hand and held it to his chest, and Bucky couldn’t help but shake his head, disbelieving Steve’s utter oblivion. “You told me she was kind to you before the serum. That she believed in you.”
“Yes,” Steve admitted.
“ _Steve_ ,” at this stage Bucky was finding it exponentially difficult not to sigh, “this is a girl who likes you because of the reasons I love you. She understands - she _sees_ ; sees who you really are and not the body you’re in. She remembers you for who you are in there, in your heart and your head, not all this here – this _muscle_ , this _body._ ” It made perfect sense; something that Steve clearly didn’t like. Bucky’s frown deepened – his best friend was _deliberately ignoring him._ He pressed harder. “Steve, you could get _married_. Have _children_.”
“But I don’t want to get married to her. I’d much rather be married to _you_ ,” Steve said. The blonde looked at him so earnestly, and Bucky had to look down and bite out the truth.
It was something he had considered before, in every way he could. Yes, right now every Church would be leaping at the opportunity to marry Captain America or Sergeant Barnes – begging to be the chosen church for a glamourous wedding with a hundred cameras broadcasting the entire thing to the world. But not to each other.
“Steve, _nobody_ would wed us,” and he knew it sounded hopeless, completely drowned in defeat. Worse still, it was true, even more so coming from his mouth rather than Steve’s, because Bucky was a realist and Steve just could never be. They were both stubborn, but Steve was blindly so. The younger man threw himself into fights Bucky knew they’d never win, and he hoped for this future Bucky knew they’d never have.
“Well, I-” Steve hesitated, “I deny that and will unrepentantly find a way to make it happen.”
Bucky finally let out that sigh and continued to gaze at their shoes, and Steve shifted and leaned into him; confused, concerned.
“Why? Don’t you want to... get married? One day?” It was both nervous and hopeful.
“I’d… well, yes, I would, of course I would, but-” Bucky grunted in frustration. “It won’t happen. It _can’t_ happen, nobody would _ever_ let it happen.”
“I can make it happen,” Steve told him with determination, eyes hard, steeled with it. “I will. Or we just won’t do it officially. It doesn’t have to reach the books, or the church, or anything, ever. We can… We just need a witness – and I guess they can be dead. We can make a dead HYDRA goon as we unofficially wed ourselves.”
Bucky managed a small tired smile at that, and Steve rose to his feet.
“Stand up,” he commanded. Bucky frowned, but he did, slowly.
“Why?” He asked.
“Just do it. Okay, yeah, come here-” He beckoned Bucky a few feet away from the log before he grabbed his hand and slid his other one to his waist. He pulled him close, and Bucky heard himself somehow chuckle and groan at the same time, but he put his hands where they belonged anyway.
“Why are we dancing? In the middle of nowhere?”
“Because we were thinking too much, and dancing doesn’t need any thinking to it,” Steve said.
“Sure, it does,” Bucky easily shot out.
“Yeah, at first, maybe. But in a few minutes, it’ll feel like it’s just us.”
“Which would be _bad_ , because we’re in the middle of enemy territory,” Bucky pointed out. Steve shook his head and the corner of his lip quirked upward.
“Peggy’s got it sorted,” and it seemed that Steve wasn’t too worried about her anymore, so somehow and somewhere within that conversation, Bucky had managed to at least alleviate those concerns. They danced together, their feet spinning their bodies in circles. It was lazy dancing, as it always was. Dancing this way made it easier, mindless – just as Steve had said. Minutes passed of blissful unawareness. Bucky barely noticed the way that one of Steve’s hands had moved past his hip to hug his lower back and pull him closer to his chest.
“We need music,” Bucky decided, because it didn’t really feel the same otherwise. The scrapes of their feet against the snow, the bustled wind and the skitters of animals; it all sounded far too loud in the absence of the usual songs which would play at a hall or bar.
“I can sing?” Steve suggested with raised brows, and Bucky immediately regretted ever opening his mouth.
“No, no, no no no-” but it was too late.
“ _It only happens_ -” Steve began, slow and deep and smooth, and Bucky reached to cover his mouth, but Steve sang on right through it, muffled as it was, “- _when I dance with you… That trip to heaven 'till the dance is through_ …”
The lyrics and pace and tone completely hit him as he realised which song this was, hard right in the chest, and Bucky lessened his foolish attempts so he could squeeze his eyes shut. He rested his forehead against his hands over the blonde’s lips, and _damn Steve_ for picking _this_ song.
“ _With no one else do the heavens seem quite so near… Why does it happen dear…? Only with you?”_ | 0428f00994b4432db1c05627a10db4d1 | ['3ade27a1fde04aa5b41b48ceb2aa6e62'] | They received intelligence – the good, promising kind – that Doctor Zola was to be catching a train through the Alps, considerably unprotected. It was the perfect opportunity to take out a big player in HYDRA’s mysterious technology and, perhaps, learn some more intel in the process, if they managed to take him in. And, off the records, of course, for Bucky and Steve to maybe quietly gain some sweet, subtle revenge.
When they had all sat down with Phillips and Carter and mapped out the track and terrain, it became clear that they had to use the cliff, and that it was their only shot. The Howling Commandos were sent into the alpine, and together they prepared everything. They set-up and adjusted the line they were to use to land on the train, they set up their equipment and communications system, and they put up their tents – one to share between two. They went over the plan together in thorough, vigorous detail three times, and they finalised any other decisions which needed to be made before deciding to get some sleep.
No matter what anyone had said about Steve, no matter how much of an idiot he knew he was, Steve really was smart. He was both a tactician and a strategist, and he knew what could be risked and what could not. He truly was a leader – not just for his rank, but for his personality and his pure ability to lead. Steve could do exactly that; he could organise and direct a group through the unknown and unpredictable. He could make life or death decisions just like _that_ and he could fix it if he had chosen wrongly the first time.
Any soldier in the entire world, Bucky was sure, would know it to be an obvious common sense to have at least two soldiers on watch at a time, with hopefully more if possible. Though it was easily possible to have another man awake, Steve – tactician, strategist, Captain Steve – he knew their position and their surroundings and was completely confident that they would not receive any trouble tonight.
He was so sure that when it was their turn, they weren’t even really keeping watch. To be frank, they weren’t exactly _dancing_ either – they just held each other close, breathed against each other’s skin – but the intimacy and calm which had so naturally settled upon them… Bucky had only ever felt like this when they danced.
“Feeling okay for tomorrow?” Steve asked him as he nudged his cheek with his own.
“I think so,” Bucky replied honestly.
“I know you don’t really like heights,” Steve said, and Bucky laughed, even though it was true. He wasn’t _terrified_ of them. He felt surprisingly alright, standing up there with Steve, his eyes half closed. But he had felt the fear in the past; once when they were kids, when Rebecca had somehow convinced him to climb onto their roof to watch the stars with her. When they had needed to get down, he had frozen and refused to move. He’d stayed there, staring at how far down the ground had been, until their father had come to fetch him.
The most recent scare was only a mere few months ago. He’d been weak. The factory was exploding. The only escape was on the other side, and Steve had helped him across the railing onto the thin metal. He had balanced over fire. Bucky had barely breathed. He had almost died.
_That_ one. _That_ one had terrified him.
But Steve was worrying about right now. “It’s okay. I’m okay. How are you?” He asked, because he hadn’t checked in a while, and he was waiting for the day Steve sat down and actually _told_ him he was troubled, and Bucky knew he was because _everybody_ in this war was troubled and because it was _Steve_ , and Steve couldn’t lie when he was caught off guard, he was _so bad_ at it.
“Well...” Steve began, and Bucky could tell from his face that tonight would not be that time, “you’re here. In my arms. So, I’m quite perfect.”
Bucky managed to smile. “Well, in that case I’m perfect, too.”
An hour later they were relieved. They slipped into their tent, which was the furthest away from the rest of the group. Bucky clambering inside after Steve’s large body did. As he closed the flap behind him Bucky shivered, his fingertips feeling numb. He hurried to join the Captain and shuffled underneath their small blanket, moving as close to him as he could so he could steal some of Steve’s body heat; the man was a furnace nowadays, and right now Bucky felt it was a hell of a blessing.
Steve seemed to agree to the closeness. He put a strong arm around his back to hug him close against his chest, and Bucky felt a kiss on his lips. “Goodnight,” Steve said.
“Goodnight,” Bucky replied, but instead of drifting off Steve kissed him again, and again, and a few minutes later he found they were kissing desperately, clutching onto the other to try and hold them still. The kiss deepened... deepened... Bucky let his jaw relax and felt a tongue lick past his lips to meet his own. He heard himself make a small and embarrassing sound, but he quickly forgot it as Steve propped himself up and attempted to position himself atop Bucky. He seemed to be trying to keep the blanket over him as he did, while also trying to maintain as much skin to skin contact as possible. It was a little dizzying – all this emotion and sensations, but it was wildly intoxicating. Addictive. Bucky needed this and he needed more. |
1520b1a3335045b397a32846960083fc | ['3af88e2106484c16a66696135cd7ab06'] | Just when Lisanna’s wish began to fade beneath the currents of her prurient thoughts, leaving behind remnants of the passion and sincerity behind her desire like trails of smoke dissipating in a strong breeze, there was a sudden knock at her front door. Lisanna ears unmistakably made out the faint, “Delivery!” shouted from her front porch, a fact that made her groan in protest even as her hands slid down her sweat-oiled belly to rub out another orgasm. But the second series of knocks jolted her out of her state of fugue and finally spurred her to stumble out of bed with a exasperated sigh. She pulled on a plain yellow T-shirt and white short-shorts before she rushed down the stairs to answer the front door, so caught up in trying to make herself presentable that she ignored how her sweaty body made her clothes stick to her skin.
“Well if it isn’t the illustrious princess herself, descending from her lofty perch to grace us fine folk with her radiance,” the delivery man announced with a practiced gusto when Lisanna opened the front door and immediately began nervously brushing her hair with her fingers. “Mwah! Is this not the perks and privileges of delivering such fine goods. Lisanna Strauss, I presume?
“Uum, y-yep that’s me!” Lisanna nervously stammered
The delivery man in question was a tall, dark-haired man that looked about the same age as Lisanna, dressed in a deep red tuxedo with a black trim that was as impeccable as his well-groomed and chiseled appearance. A glossy name tag was pinned close to his lapel reading, “Codi” in a flowery script, but Lisanna only gave herself a moment to become familiar with his name before oogling at his impressive physique.
Despite his slender frame, his body was rippling with muscle that was made deliciously evident by the tell-tale bulges of his biceps, making Lisanna practically swoon on the spot as she imagined sweat sizzling off his abdominals that seemed so well-defined that they almost seemed chiseled by the finest Fioran artisans. Just the fantasy of his sweat-oiled body working like a well oiled machine as he pinned her down and pounded her until she was his sperm-covered fucktoy had her rubbing her thighs together to prevent him from seeing the glistening veneer of sticky arousal glistening in the afternoon sun.
Lucky for her, Codi was too busy proffering a paper-wrapped parcel clutched protectively in both of his hands to notice. “Perfect!” he exclaimed. “Well, here you go! This should get the job done quite beautifully.”
“Wait, what are you talking about? I didn’t order anything,” Lisanna replied, reluctantly taking the parcel from Codi only to blush when her eyes flickered down to the defined bulge between his muscled thighs.
“Whoa whoa whoa, my dearest lady. Had I known that discretion was advised, I would have opted for a more subtle appearance! Please accept my most sincerest apologies—”
“—Oh boy...—”
“— Because as a senior delivery agent of the Suite of Magically Urgent Transmogrifications, or S.M.U.T for short,” Codi continued after tapping his fingers over his ornate nameplate. “I am well versed in the art of discretion to compliment the needs of our clientele. DO not fear, my budding flower, for if you’ll just sign here, I will vanish into the suburban sprawl of this peaceful town like a shadow among shadows!”
“Um, right,” Lisanna replied with a raised eyebrow, finding the entire conversation to be rather odd to say the least. But she nonetheless took the clipboard he offered her and added, “Well if this makes this a little less weird and unusual, I guess I’ll do it”
“Weird might not be my forte,” Codi announced after Lisanna signed her name and handed the clipboard back to him. “But handling the delicate treasures cradled within these squares of mysterious joy is a joy unlike any other! I must be off now, but we of the S.M.U.T society fondly hope your wish comes true. Ta-Ta!”
Without further adieu, Codi bowed and proudly swaggered off to leave Lisanna staring nonplussed in his direction until he disappeared around the corner.
“Well, that was weird,” Lisanna remarked to herself after she shut the door behind her and stared down at the parcel in her hand with an expression rapt with curiosity. “Oh well, I wonder what this could be?”
Tied to its neatly packaged exterior of brown packing paper was a velvet bow tie with a small tag that read, “What you need to make your wish become reality™”, with flowing cursive handwriting.
A wish? Hmm, I wonder if this is one of those guys that keep sending weird things to Mirajane in the mail. I suppose I better open it.
Lisanna eagerly made her way back up the stairs to her room before she delicately unwrapped the parcel, setting the paper down onto her bed before she pried open the lid and stared at the contents lurking inside.
Her face immediately lit up with the unexpected surprise at what she considered to be the most beautiful piece of jewelry that she had ever seen - an ornate golden choker inscribed with an elegant stream of runes around the bands and crowned by a heart-shaped ruby glittering at its center. It rested on a red velvet cushion like a crown fit for royalty, and indeed it deserved such high praise, for it was a piece of such exquisite craftsmanship and beauty that Lisanna found herself instantly enchanted by it. | a3de7fb1905241d7a1922c836cf7671d | ['3af88e2106484c16a66696135cd7ab06'] | He slammed inside her with such force that he penetrated the final barrier guarding her fertile womb, drowning her fallopian tubes with a flood of steaming cum that he fucked inside her with every erratic thrust. Thick, lumpy ropes of cum squirted out of his dicktip and greased her love tunnel until every squelch signified how all that off-white ballslop was slowly drooling out of her pussy like a viscous waterfall; sliding across her inner thigh and over the round creases of her pale, meaty asscheeks.
A full minute passed before Natsu’s orgasm finally died down, his cock twitching gently from the effort of firing over three-dozens noodle-thick spurts of cum directly inside Lisanna’s baby chamber. And like the animal he was deep down, Natsu was almost growing against the elegant curve of Lisanna’s neck, his chest almost vibrating with a deep rumble that almost sounded like that of a dragon. Yet it was a stark contrast to the overwhelmed expression of mindless euphoria etched on Lisanna’s face, with her eyes firmly rolled back in her skull and her tongue hanging out while she panted like a bitch in heat.
“Nnngh, you fucking stretched me out and dumped so much stick cu-MMMM!” Lisanna slurred only to arch her back and groan when a deluge of viscous creampie gushed from her cock-stuffed pussy and drooled across her creamy thigh. The very notion that Natsu might have knocked her up made her so uncontrollably horny that she had to fuck him again and again and again. That sinful heat that blossomed in her horny pussy drove her to take control, to savor the feeling of finally being wanted and having her virginity womb-fucked out of her, leaving only the desire to experiment with taking control and fucking Natsu into a coma.
“I’m getting all fired up again,” Natsu said, growling that playful taunt against Lisanna’s ear. He almost seemed shocked when Lisanna turned her head and leveled a sexually-twisted stare as though her unrestrained lust possessed her. She licked her lips as she pulled herself up on her hands and knees and crawled on top of him, her bountiful buttocks bouncing gently from side to side.
“Good, because I’m not going to stop until I fuck your brains out of your pretty head and finally make this huge studcock all mine!” Lisanna swore after she pinned him down against the mattress and ground her creampied pussy against the sensitive underside of his cock. “And I’m going to do that by Riding the Dragon….”
With her sweat oiled breasts bulging over his chest, Lisanna left a trail of pink lipstick marks as she kissed her way up to his lips and dragged her tongue across his cheek, playfully remarking, “I’m going to make you mine, baby…my personally boy-toy to fuck as I please.”
“Sure I’m not too much for you or do I have to smother you with my fat nuts until your brains melt again?” Natsu retorted, earning a sultry giggle from Lisanna.
“I think we both know you’re addicted to me already,” Lisanna gently moaned, the tone of her voice so smooth and seductive that Natsu couldn’t bring himself to deny it. His cum-glazed erection was already jerking powerfully everytime Lisanna slid her outer folds oh-so slowly up to his bulbous tip; a fact that evoked an accusatory moan from Lisanna.
“You’re going to let go,” Lisanna whispered. “You’re going to give me control of your body and—”
Without any warning, Lisanna slammed down on Natsu’s cock and shoved it deep inside her cum-drooling pussy, creating a sloppy “squelch!” that rang through the air just as Natsu hips bucked and a loud groan burst free. Her thick bubble-ass rippled with the force of the impact, yet those moon-white assglobes failed to disguise how Natsu’s cock stretched her pussy around his cock until it resembled a dick-hungry maw that massaged him greedily and slurped him deeper inside her. The way she rhythmically contracted the muscles in her velvety depths made her pussy appear like it was milking him for another load of cockgravy churning like butter in his balls.
“—stuff another creampie inside my pussy!”
This was a side of her that Natsu had never seen before, let alone in any other women that he pounded into a babbling wreck on this very bed. The way Lisanna rolled her hips and bounced on his cock, the way her back arched with pleasurable convulsions while her breasts bounced wildly on her chest, and the way she stared down at him and licked her lips as though he were nothing but a boytoy with the best cock in Fiore made her seem like a slutty, bimbo angel possessed!
Sweat glimmered on Lisanna’s pale skin like countless stars glittering on an expanse of immaculate porcelain, a hypnotic sight matched only by the way she fucked him with an animalistic frenzy of a sex-addict slut in heat. She rolled her hips like a bellydancer in between bouts where she rapidly lifted her thick ass and slammed his cock back inside her love tunnel, triggering a mutual flashbang of white-hot ecstasy between them both.
As Lisanna threw her head back and fucked her way through another mind-warping orgasm, her mouth hung open to ooze a torrent of sexy moans from her throat - a confession of a different kind. Not one of desire to be as pretty as her guildmates or lusting for the traits that they possessed, but on how good it felt to feel him throbbing inside her and how right it felt to know that each powerful twitch meant he craved her.
That alone possessed Lisanna to reassert her control by pinning him against the bed again and bucking wildly to slam his cock deep inside her, pausing only to throw her arms around him and release an inarticulate scream as another orgasm nearly melted her brains into euphoric slag. It left Natsu staring at the fuck-drunk expression on her face, a shameless joy evident of how her eyes were rolled back in her skull, but even with a supernova of white-hot ecstasy skullfucking her higher functioning, she managed to regain enough of her senses to stare down at him with an expression that screamed, “cum yourself stupid inside my tight pussy! Fuck that huge load inside me, you donkey-dicked slut!”
In that moment, Natsu saw her for what she truly was - an irresistible goddess of pure sex and carnal passion, one that managed to do something no other bimbofied slut or sex-addicted fucktoy had ever suceeded in doing. Somehow, it felt good being controlled and ridden by her, to be dominated and milked for every glob of cum stuffed inside his balls. That’s why his orgasm proved to be so uncontrollable, so overwhelming and intense that it proved so be an addictive rush of euphoria that he loved almost as much as he loved the fact it was her that instilled this in time.
With cry resembling a dragon’s roar, Natsu bucked his hips and began stuffing another fat creampie deep inside Lisanna’s pussy, his balls palpitating and gurgling with the effort it took to fire those coiling lances of sperm that were so thick that a faintly audible “SPLURT! SPLUUUURG! SPLURRCH!” could be heard as he dumped it inside her.
When it was finally over, Lisanna pulled herself off his cock with a loud, nasty “Gluurch!”. But what Lisanna did next punctuated the control she felt she had over Natsu. Her expression clenched as she squirted the massive creampie fucked out of her well-fucked pussy and splattered it all over Natsu’s twitching cock - a playful taunt of his act of obedience and submission.
She then stood up and turned around to jerk off Natsu’s softening member, wringing the thick layer of sperm glazing that huge slab of cockmeat that slowly bowed over the side of his muscled thigh. “Mmm, I’ve been wanting to do that to you for soooo long,” Lisanna confessed. “But now that you’re mine, I’m going to do things to you that you’ve only dreamed of…”
Natsu’s cock stiffened back to life as he watched Lisanna polish the cum off her hand with indecent, breathy licks - something he knew she made sure he was watching. She then sauntered off towards his bathroom with cum visibly drooling down her inner thighs, but she paused just at the threshold and turned her head slightly to the side to coyly wink at him.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Lisanna simply announced. “And you’re coming with me, stud…”
There it was again, the alluring urge to do what she wanted. To obey her like the obedient stud she wanted him to be. And despite the fact that he internally slapped himself to get a grip, his cock stiffened into a monolithic tower of pulsing hot need; and it was all directed at her. For the first time ever, Natsu had a challenge, and it was one he was going to love fucking. |
8e2f6aefd3724d14ae26aeace82722cb | ['3b22b5295adb4ebbb2b3725df2dfd734'] | His breath came in pants, shaky but regular. All of Tony's focus went into them, with barely another sound in the room. Rhodey could see a stronger wave of pain hit Tony. His head pressed roughly into the leather and every muscle in his body went rigid. A pained groan escaped his lips. He rolled reluctantly onto his side and curled up tightly into a ball. He raised his fist to his mouth and went to bite down on it, but Rhodey pulled his hand gently away.
"Not a good idea mate."
Tony gasped suddenly and all the tension left his body. His breaths slowed and became deeper again.
"Is that it?" Rhodey asked. He knew it had been less than two minutes, but watching that happen helpless to aid his best friend, it had felt like an eternity.
"It certainly feels better…" Tony's voice was barely whisper.
"The inhibitor will re-engage in 15 seconds. Colonel Rhodes I suggest you leave the room at this point." The false wall separating them from the Tony's workshop began to slide closed.
"Why? No, Tony I'm staying with you."
"Last time this happened I knocked out everyone in the room." Tony rolled onto his back hitting a button on the side the chair and out came the restraints.
"Tony?"
"Just go Rhodes, it's only for a few seconds."
Rhodey nodded and just managed to slip through the gap before the wall shut him off from his friend. He stood at the other side, Body tense insides churning, counting in his head. One Mississippi…. Two Mississippi… time was definitely slowing down. Three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five… There was a dull boom from behind the wall and the ground shook slightly. The lights dimmed, and flickered the glass rattled slightly, but then everything stopped.
Rhodey's heart thundered inside his chest and his mind clouded with panic. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. Five Mississippi… Six Mississippi… seven Mississippi…. Eight Mississippi.
"Thank God!" There was a quiet rumble as the wall began to slide open once more. The moment the gap was big enough Rhodey was back on the room. The chair was facing away from his, blocking his view of Tony. He flew across the room to his friend's side to find the restraints had already disappeared as if they were never there.
"Tony?" Tony's eyes were closed and he lay very still, but on hearing his friend's voice a weak smile spread across his face.
"See, not that bad." Tony croaked.
"Yeah sure. What was with the Earthquake then?" Rhodey smiled back. He still felt sick to the stomach, but Tony was, as ever, being Tony Stark.
"CAEB doesn't like being shut out." Tony coughed.
The billionaire began to try and sit up and instead of stopping him, Rhodey put a supportive hand around his back. "Take it easy Tony."
"Why would I do that?" Tony grinned weakly, but his eyes and body betrayed his exhaustion.
"Where do you want to go?" Rhodey asked, but Tony's lucidity was starting to fade.
"What time is it?" Tony wheezed.
"3:56 am." The voice in the ceiling replied.
"Want to go to bed. I got the day off right?" Tony slurred, exhaustion taking over.
"Yes Tony, you have the day off.” Rhodey smiled.
…..
In the green room there had been very little meaningful conversation. Steve had been trying to make some headway with Clint, but his patience had quickly worn thin. There wasn't any point, he knew Clint would never change his mind, but it was infuriating. Steve knew this was his mess, but at least he was actually trying to do something about it, but Barton was just blocking him at every turn.
"Clint if you are really going to be that stubborn…"
"Me stubborn, what about you?"
"Clint please. We both want out of here, it's clear that you are never going to agree with my decision…"
"And you are never going to admit you were wrong."
Steve gripped the bridge of his nose and forced himself to keep his composure. "Why don't we just pretend like we've worked it out and be nice to each other for while so we can get out of here."
"I don't even want to pretend to be nice to a traitor."
"Clint seriously, a traitor?"
"You _are_ a traitor. You betrayed a friend and that makes you a traitor."
"Oh, for God's sake." Steve's voice cracked a little, but he held himself.
"Language." Clint said indignantly.
"Barton, for crying out loud!" Steve barked and the room fell into silence again.
It was a while before Clint broke the silence.
"It won't work." He said solemnly. "Natasha will be recording this, besides do _you_ really expect to deceive her?"
"Is it not even worth a try?" Steve sighed.
Clint took a moment to consider and then spoke again. "You know what I haven't eaten since last night and I don't want to be starving myself for you, so yeah, it's worth a try."
Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm touched."
"Don't be." Clint spat back.
…..
Rhodey had ended up carrying Tony back to his room. He'd been too tired to protest and there had been far too many stairs to try and to walk him up in this state.
He sat by Tony's bed and watched him sleep. Only now did it hit him how tired he was himself, but that didn't matter. If this was just the beginning, he didn't want to know how much worse it was going to get. Tony looked so relaxed and peaceful now, but Rhodey could not stop seeing the flashes of him in pain as he had been such a short while ago. He didn't know why this was getting to him so much, he'd seen Tony through worse, much worse… but maybe this was just one time too many. | 21a8dd0b16a6495786da6f7d290e26d8 | ['3b22b5295adb4ebbb2b3725df2dfd734'] | Thor strode back into the room supporting a slightly worse for wear Steve. Heimdall was dodging the blasts skillfully, keeping them well away from the more vulnerable members of the team. Rhodey was firing shot after shot from the repulsors but was sorely limited by the firepower he could use without bringing the building down on their heads. He kept that option open, it may be helpful as a last resort. It was clear to Thor that the All-father had made some improvements to his most valued protector since he'd destroyed it in New Mexico. This battle was not going to be so easy.
Thor smiled as the Hulk managed to land the team's first damaging blows and the Destroyer's metal body started to buckle, but his triumph was short lived as another blast hit the Hulk at short range and sent him flying out of the building through the broken window.
Natasha was watching events unfurl, feeling utterly helpless. Bruce's words may have angered her but he was right, their biggest guns couldn't touch this thing and even a glancing blow would kill her or Clint instantly. She pressed hard onto Clint's wound, she had one eye on the battle and one eye on that light. Clint was more preoccupied with Tony, the seizure was starting to become less violent, but Tony's eyes were still scarily blank. His head was starting to feel cloudy, each blast made his jump. Blood loss can do that, he supposed. He glanced to his right, Natasha's determined face told him that she was doing enough focusing for the both them, good.
"DOWN!" Natasha shoved Clint away from her, splitting them. War machine slammed into the concrete wall behind them and rolled off onto the floor. The armour shifted slightly, its controller trying to get up but realising he hadn't the strength.
"Rhodes, stay down, give yourself time." Natasha knew there was no point in getting straight back up, he'd be slow and vulnerable and probably end up being put down for good if he was hit again. The armour nodded in response and lay there, momentarily defeated.
Natasha refocused herself after the distraction, Tony was still. The light was Red. She hit the button. Tony's back arched. He lay still, his chest unmoving. She held her breath.
Tony gasped for air and his eyes snapped open. There was another explosion and the sound of Mjolnir whistling across the room. Tony's head flicked from side to side, eyes wide in confusion and his mind moving slowly. The hulk roared viciously as it leapt back in through the window and began its onslaught of rage.
"Whaaa…" Natasha pressed a finger to Tony's lips.
"Odin must have really like you Tones, seems he doesn't want to let you go." Clint slurred slightly, the injury was clearly worse than it had first appeared. He hadn't got back up.
"Hey Tones." Rhodes finally got back to his feet, but had to duck again instantly as another blast headed their way. The searing heat skimmed above Tony's face, he could smell his own hair singing.
Steve wiped the blood from his face where it dribbled from a deep cut above his eye, but it was pointless, he was covered in it. He struggled out from underneath yet another pile of rubble, every fibre ached. The shield and his suit were scorched, and even Thor was grazed. Heimdall was on one knee supporting himself against the wall, with the destroyer about to take its next shot. The Hulk just kept bouncing back, every time he was thrown through the wall he re-emerged seconds later with face full of rage. Thor could not deflect the blasts, and there were rare opportunities to deal it blows. For the second time today Thor could not see a way out of this, well, not without a miracle. Luckily for them a miracle, for the second time today, was exactly what was about to occur.
Tony was on his feet. How it happened, no one really knew, but from the desperate state he had been in just moments before he had never looked stronger. The chaos stopped for a moment. Everyone just stared. Well, everyone apart from the destroyer.
Tony's eyes glowed blue as the burning inferno raced towards him, he held up one hand and a blue shield appeared in front of him. The flaming blast arrived but was stopped dead in its path. Tony stood firm but the effort was clear. He gritted his teeth as the blast kept coming, blood dripped from his nose and he raised a second hand intuitively for support. Finally, the destroyer stopped.
The shield dropped instantly and Tony stumbled back a few steps, putting one knee on the ground and panting heavily.
The All-father watched the Destroyers work from afar, realising the need for a change in tact. He had, had time to think upon Frigga's words and well, perhaps he had been slightly blinded by his rage at Thor's betrayal. Thoughts of the prophecy where eating at the back of his mind, it was time to find out the truth once and for all. Did Tony Stark stand before the destroyer? Or did the epitome of evil?
He sent 8 blasts, one at each of the rooms occupants. He knew the man standing centre stage was not strong enough to stop them all, the question was would he save himself? Or his friends? |
580e02cacabd455ca1509ca31e1b4980 | ['3b33778c411743d985ad154cc2a660c7'] | It was exactly like her apartment but everything was in a different place with different furniture. Walking into the middle of the room she sat down on the black leather couch and looked around again; waiting for Eric to shut the door and get her package.
"So all the leaders are required to have these, but since you weren't at the last meeting, Jeanine had Max and me to hold onto yours until you were well again." He said after he had closed the door, and went into the small kitchen space to grab the box, to which he brought to me. "Go ahead and open it."
'I thought I was just supposed to pick it up and leave.' She thought as she took out her knife and began to slice the tape on the box. After it was all sliced, she opened the folds of the box and looked in to see more boxes that had writing on them. "Leader Tablets" was what was written. Looking up from the box to look at Eric, she tilted her head.
"Go on and take them out. I'm going to show you how to use them, or at least show you the basics." Was his response before she gave him a quick nod back.
Taking the tablets out of the boxes, she noticed that one was the size of a notebook, while the other was small enough to be more portable. She wasn't from Erudite so tablets were fairly new to her, but she loved working with computers and technology; however she wasn't about to tell anyone that.
Turning over the bigger one she noticed the power button and quickly turned it on. Making a quick glance up to make sure she was doing everything right, and receiving a nod in approval.
"You'll notice that it has a limited amount of apps on the main screen, and you can edit what you want to show up from the setting panel, which is here." He said and pointed to a small button with a picture of a gear. That seems easy enough.
"The settings panel lets you customize your tablet so that is easier for you. You're emails are here. This app will automatically keep your messages organized for you, and you can archive them if you want. Messages with an exclamation mark means that the message is important and you need to read it asap." He goes on to explain, and again she nods to him to show she was following.
"I suggest you keep the bigger tablet in your apartment, and carry around the smaller one. They are exactly the same, besides the size. Both are synced to one another, so you don't have to worry about having to go back and forth between them. …So what do you think?"
She was annoyed again. Why did he have to do that? Did he think he could trick her into talking? When he knew she wasn't going to talk. So with a glare, she gave him a thumbs up. He started to chuckle a bit, and motioned for her to hand him the smaller tablet, which she did.
"There is one more thing I want to show you, one more app before you go, but I have to download it first. I asked Jeanine if I could go to the department where they had made the tablets, and she granted me access. I met with the department manager who developed the software, and asked about how difficult it was creating new apps…" He went on to ramble as he waited until the download was complete.
"They said it depended on what kind of app it was. So I explained to him what I was interested in and they said that there was an app already created, and I just had to download it onto the device. I didn't tell him why I wanted it, but I think it would help you out… That is if you decide to use it." He finished.
All she could do was tilt her head at him, for she didn't know what he was going on about. But was curious to why he went through all the trouble.
He looked back down at the device and the corners of his lips rose slightly, before he turned the tablet around to her and pointed to the new app on the screen.
"It's a text to talk app." He said and tapped the icon, and showed her the app.
"It lets you type out what you want to say in this box, and then you tap the little speaker icon here, and the tablet will say whatever you typed in the box." He explained and handed her the tablet. "Why don't you try it and see if it works?"
She was beyond surprised at what she just heard. But why would he go through all that for her? She just couldn't understand it. Looking down at the screen she tilted her head a bit and brought her hand up to start typing. However, she didn't know what to type.
Looking up at Eric again, she wanted to see what he'd say next.
"Well… what are you waiting on, for me to die? Sorry I've still got a while before I kick the bucket." He joked.
Looking back down at the device in her hand, she began typing. When she was finished she pressed the speaker button and looked up into Eric's eyes.
"Hello, it is nice to finally speak to you."
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you for reading. | db521c49ae7540a9a98a881fc9d57d17 | ['3b33778c411743d985ad154cc2a660c7'] | "Oh? Initiates who fail gets shot in the head and placed in the morgue." She explained. "Are you sure that they didn't tell you?"
"NO! They never said anything about that!" He yelled from the bed, almost in tears.
"Oh. Yeah, they're all shot in the head, and we stick them in the morgue until we figure out what to do with them." She winked.
"What can I do!?" He panicked.
"Like I said before. Fight harder. Fight even when your body tells you that you can do no more, keep fighting. You wont have to worry about being ashes in the wind then. And you seem to be a good kid, Striker. It'd be a shame to lose such great potential."
"I'll try my best!" Striker yelled with blurry eyes.
Aria smiled and patted his shoulder, before removing the IV from his hand and discharging him.
"You should have seen his face when I told him that he'd get a bullet in his head if he didn't pass initiation!" Aria said to Morgan as they were cleaning up for the day.
"I bet it was great, and I'm sad that I missed it." Morgan sighed and refilled the last medical kit.
It was somewhat a requirement in the training room to have a med kit stationary just in case. It wasn't too huge. Just enough so that initiates could get to the infirmary for additional help. Ammonia tabs in case they pass out and they are too big to move. Cotton balls and gauze in case of deep cuts, so they didn't bleed all over the equipment and etc. They said that there was potential for things to rust and what not. Though in her mind, she thought it would give everything a Dauntless touch if there was blood every where. How'd you feel going into training the first day and you see blood all over everything, you'd be excited right? She would.
"You know... You really need to get out and party some. All you do is work, and you don't have anyone special in your life yet. Maybe you should go to the pit tonight. Have some beer, dance, socialize for once in your life. You know. Be Dauntless." Morgan teased.
"Well, first of all-"
"Oh! Wait! Let me prepare for all your facts, diagrams, and spread sheets that you are going to destroy me with!" Morgan dramatically yelled, and picked up a file from the desk to shield her face from her friend. "I think I'm ready."
Aria laughed for a few seconds before she continued where she left off.
"The reason I have no one in my life is because I don't have time for them, or for socializing. Why would I want someone special if I don't have the time to spend it with the other? That'd be pretty low." She huffed at her friend, and stacked her last kit on top of the pile on the desk.
"Can always do one night stands." Morgan said with a smirk.
"Oh, I'd be super popular with all the guys then." Aria said back with sarcasm laced in her voice. "They'd be coming to be in the middle of the day to get their physical exams done early this year. Hey! Wait a minute!"
They both started to laugh and Morgan almost elbowed the med kits off the table and onto the floor.
"I'm pretty sure some lovely Dauntless girls would love to show you a good time as well." Morgan bluntly pointed out.
"Pft. You're right. And you know, I bet a lot of them would be a better lay then most of the men around here." Aria laughed.
"Ari! Are you trying to tell me something?" her friend teased.
"I'm pretty sure it's nothing you've already thought about." Aria winked before looking at the clock.
"Well the med kits are done, now all I have to do is take them to the training room. And look, it already time for you to run. Do me a favor and drink some "beer" for me." she told her friend and waved to usher her out the door.
"Good night Ari!"
After she put away all the medical kits in the training room, she ran to the pit real quick to pick up some dinner to take back to the ward with her. The medical ward was always unlocked in case she wasn't there, so someone could go lay down on a cot or get medical supplies if they needed it. However, she'd always leave a note on the door just in case someone needed her, they'd know where she was headed. Dauntless really needed some kind of pager system. Maybe it would be something to bring up with Max.
She ripped the note of the door as she passed, and sat down behind the desk so she could begin eating her dinner. She was tired of all the fatty and greasy foods, so today she decided to go with two chicken salad wraps, and a bowl of strawberries. She'd never eat it all in one sitting. She usually just ate one, then saved the rest to take home for leftovers.
She had two bites of one of her wraps left, and was thoroughly enjoying it. So much in fact that she didn't realize that someone came in and was standing in front of the desk, waiting for her to notice them.
Looking up as she shoved the last bite in her mouth, she froze when steel blue eyes locked onto hers.
"Oh, please. Don't let me interrupt your dinner, it looked like you were enjoying it." Eric said, his words filled with sarcasm. Nothing new for him.
Chewing as fast as she could she swallowed, before grabbing her water bottle and asking what he needed from her.
"What can I help you with today Eric?" It sounded really genuine, and she was proud of herself as she took a few sips of water. |
83f800402c824cdeaaa9c1e679c4e802 | ['3b3827e8f32746448edb7138f8b80d56'] |
Keep Fighting
**Author's Note:**
> *Just so ya’ll know I do have a phobia of snakes, and the research that I did for this drabble took about ten years off my life. Even though I never said what specific snake venom they used, it’s the Common European Adder/Viper. Go on wikipedia if you want to see the full range of symptoms. I avoided the more gruesome ones, but still mentioned half of them.
The woods were calm and silent as they hunted. The rebels were beginning to run low on meat, so Agron had organized a hunting party. They had traveled far from the temple, as the boar they hunted had become scarce around it. He had a spear in hand, ready to throw it as the slightest movement. Nasir was next to him, a slingshot in hand. He had surprising accuracy with it; able to throw the rocks farther than Agron could his spear.
As they walked, Agron started to feel uneasy. He felt as if they were not the only ones hunting in the shadow of Vesuvius. He could not explain why though. They had not encountered anyone in the woods, and they were safe. He shook the feeling off, telling himself it was a foolish thought.
“Agron!” he turned at the sound of his name. It was just a whisper, but it sounded unnaturally loud. Donar was waving him over to a small clearing. He quickly walked over, the others following behind him. As he stood next to Donar, his feeling of unease returned tenfold. Before them stood a recently dismantled camp, the embers still glowing in the fire. A red banner hung from one of the trees. A _Roman_ banner.
“We must move away from here, before we are discovered.” The others immediately began to make their way back the way they had come, but it was too late. Agron could hear cries of men through the trees, growing louder as they quickly approached. As one they drew their weapons, and waited for the Romans to break through the trees. The first one was impaled by Agrons spear, a second fell when a rock collided with his head. He grinned, his eyes quickly flicking to Nasir, then back to the Romans. Donar threw his spear at another who ran through the trees. He lost track of what the others were doing as one ran at him. He easily avoided the shits sword, and slashed his sword across the man’s back. The Roman cried out in pain, and dropped to his knees, where Agron finished him off with a thrust to the neck.
He looked back up, as he heard a fierce cry. Another fucking soldier. He was running at Agron brandishing his sword. Agron stood his ground, waiting for the fool to come within striking distance, but before he did, a rock came flying from the side, colliding with the man’s skull with a sickening crunch. Agron watched as the lifeless body crumpled to the ground, before looking to where the rock had come from. Nasir stood there with the slingshot in his hand again, grinning. Agron looked to the others, pleased to find that they were all still alive. They had made quick work of the soldiers, and none would live to return to Rome.
“Take their weapons, and anything else that might be of worth to us,” he ordered. They quickly set to task. Nasir came to kneel before the soldier he had killed, and began to strip him of his weapons. A small trickle of blood was flowing down his left arm. Agron quickly kneeled and inspected the wound. A small scratch running across his upper arm, nothing to serious. Nasir looked down, and seemed startled at the sight of the blood.
“I did not even notice,” he told the gladiator; “I suppose I felt it, but the pain never registered.”
Agron gave him a small smile, “You’re sounding more like a gladiator every day.” Nasir laughed, pulling his arm from Agrons grasp, and continued to strip the soldier of his weapons. Agron went to another, and soon they had a pile on the forest floor. The others were laughing, pleased at the prospect of new weapons, and coin. There was one laugh that was not among them though.
Agron looked over, and saw Nasir leaning against a tree. He was shaking slightly, and Agron was instantly at his side. “Nasir?” He took the Syrians face in his hands, shocked to find his skin burning. “What is wrong?” he anxiously asked.
“My arm,” Nasir groaned, struggling to get the words out.
Agron glanced over to the wound, and was alarmed to find it slightly swollen. A second later, Nasir’s legs gave out, and Agron barely managed to catch him before he collided with the ground. He pulled Nasir into his lap, cradling him in his arms. “Nasir!” Agrons mind was racing, what had happened in the few minutes he had not been at Nasirs side? His eyes feel to Nasirs wound, and Agrons heart raced. “Nasir, which one struck you?” he frantically asked. Nasirs eyes remained closed, his breathing labored. He pushed the Syrians hair from his face, and brown eyes slowly opened to meet his.
“The one with the scar across his face,” he said weakly, his eyes closing once again.
“Who stripped the fuck of his weapons,” he demanded.
Donar reached into the pile, and pulled out one of the swords, “This was his.” He held it out to Agron, and could see a small streak of blood on it. Nasirs blood. He looked past it, and saw something else. A faint streak on the sword, only visible when Donar held it in the light.
“Keep that one separate from the others, and do not let the blade touch you,” he ordered. He could feel Nasir shaking in his arms, and lifted him up. Nasir weakly wrapped his good arm around Agron, clutching his wounded one to his chest. | 330935e5255e4da8964d941d4b23007b | ['3b3827e8f32746448edb7138f8b80d56'] | “That might not be enough Agron,” Spartacus calmly said.
Agron glared at him.
“You know that the slaver will have men searching the city for him, and with a reward of thirty denarii, many people will be on the lookout for him. He’ll be safe in this part of the cisterns; we’ll help you protect him. But if he wanders to far…”
“They’ll find him. I know.” He didn’t know what he feared more: the slavers men finding Nasir, or the cut throat thieves that inhabited the cisterns as well. There was an unspoken code between most of them, but the cut throats didn’t abide by it. “We have everything we need to get by for the next week or so. They should be gone by then. If not, we’ll worry then.”
Spartacus nodded. “Now back to why you came here. What happened to the extra blankets you had?”
“I’m letting him sleep on my bedroll. I’m using the few spare ones we have as mine for now. I was hoping you had a few extras so that he could have his own.”
Sura stood up, and opened up a small chest against the far wall. She pulled out some blankets, and Agron smiled, holding out his arms for them. “No,” she said. “I’ll carry them. We want to meet him.”
He nodded, and stood up, stretching his arms. Spartacus stood up beside Sura, and Crixus grumbled, still lying on the floor. As much as he disliked the Gaul, Nasir really should meet them all. They had a habit of just showing up uninvited – Sura and Spartacus were always welcome. Crixus was never welcome as far as he was concerned – and he didn’t want them to scare Nasir, should they show up while he and Duro were gone.
Sura was of the same mind as him. “Get up Crixus. You’re coming as well.”
“But-”
Sura glared at him. “Do I need to tell you twice?”
Crixus grumbled again, and stood up, trudging behind them as Agron led the way.
~~*~~
Agron held a finger to his lips, as he pulled the blanket aside, and stepped inside. Duro was still sprawled out on his bedroll, and Nasir sleepily opened his eyes. Agron saw the fear take over, as Nasir took in Sura, Spartacus, and Crixus behind him as he pushed himself up, and against the wall. He ran to Nasir, drawing him close to his chest, and holding him tightly. “It’s alright, they’re friends.” He could feel Nasir shaking slightly, as he held onto Agron tightly.
Duro woke up as well, his eyes quickly taking in Nasir as he held onto his brother tightly. He looked over, and saw Sura, Spartacus, and that fucking Gaul. He jumped up, standing beside Agron, and glared at all three of them. Mostly Crixus though.
Sura set the blankets down, and slowly walked over, kneeling a safe distance away from him and Nasir. She smiled kindly at him. “Hello. My name is Sura. Might I ask yours?”
Nasir still held onto Agron tightly, but he met her gaze. “N-Nasir,” he answered softly.
Her eyes flicked between the two of them, and he thought he saw something flash in her eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure. “Nasir,” she echoed. “Apologies for startling you. We simply wanted to meet you. Agron told us about you, when he came to see us.”
Nasir nodded, his grip loosening slightly. “The fault is mine. Old habits die hard I suppose.”
She shook her head, tentatively reaching out and brushing a stray hair away from Nasir’s face. “Do not place blame on yourself. Those habits are what kept you alive. It will take time to adjust to freedom.”
He smiled softly, and Agron loosened his grip as well, allowing Nasir to sit back. He locked eyes with him, and Nasir gave him a small smile and nod. Spartacus stepped forward, and Sura looked over her shoulder at him. “This is Spartacus, and the one in the foul mood is Crixus.”
Nasir nodded his head in greeting, offering them both a smile. Spartacus smiled back widely, and Crixus actually managed a small twitch of his lips.
Sura stood up, and brushed off her dress. “We live here in the cisterns as well, not far from here. Once you learn your way about them, you are always welcome.”
Nasir smiled widely. “Gratitude, Sura.”
She smiled and nodded, while Spartacus and Crixus made themselves comfortable and sat down. Crixus choose Duro’s bed to sit on. “Get off my bed Gaul.”
Crixus rolled his eyes, not budging. “Quiet, pup.”
Duro growled, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger. “Get off my bed you fucking Gaul.”
“No.”
“Crixus!” Sura glared at him sharply, and Crixus reluctantly moved, sitting on the stone floor. Duro glared at him, and sat down on his bed, his hand never leaving his dagger.
Agron glared at Crixus as well. The only reason he put up with the Gaul was because of Sura. It was well known she was not a woman to be trifled with, and Agron had been at the receiving end of her anger more than once. He and Crixus held a small truce in her presence most of the time. Duro argued with him less, but he would never dream of stopping Duro from pissing off the Gaul.
Nasir looked slightly confused; he knew nothing of the hostility between them and Crixus. A lesson passed down from their father to them: never trust a Gaul.
As much as he disliked Crixus, he reluctantly admitted to himself that if would be foolish to pass it onto Nasir, so he held his tongue, but still let a laugh escape his lips. He ignored the glare Crixus threw at him, and sat down on the floor beside Spartacus. |
a36fd8e5ba504956bde14e1dc39f868d | ['3b51ad6878ff4a1cb9f6f9b5aa2efeac'] | Eventually, you hug her back, and she takes you back upstairs, and you can tell the relief on her face, as if to say that maybe this one will be different. It’s…hard to accept your own defeat, but with each day it becomes easier to swallow. You’ll stay here, and become a better sheriff, and figure things out.
And eat butterscotch pie, of course.
2. Departure
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The sheriff gets an assignment.
The nightmares recur for a while. Then you decide that nightmares are too clichéd, and after that they seem to stop. The sheriff of the underground wins again, though in this case you’re not entirely sure why. You explain the sensation to Toriel, that you felt as though you were able to order yourself to stop having nightmares, but she just tilts her head from her book by the fireplace and quirks an eyebrow. It’s not a sign of confidence, and you decide to drop it in favor of keeping a written record of what you remember your nightmares were with a notebook. Well, you might still have them but you don't really focus on it.
Mostly, they’re just the sort of distorted stuff you got in old nightmares before you fell, but now it’s interspersed with a repeating image. You’re alone; you’re in a garbage dump. There are loud footsteps behind you…you’re bleeding. You initiate a fight with a shadowy figure clad in black armor, you lose. You die. That’s it. Then rinse and repeat the process, over and over again. Walk in the garbage dump, turn around, fight, die. At first the dream itself concerned you, but after the first few times it was the repetitive nature. When something is repeated so often, it becomes convincing. You develop a fear of garbage dumps and black armor.
It’s only natural.
You’ve been with Toriel for a year now, and it’s driving you a bit insane, but whenever you get the inclination to leave, you get a reminder in your head of what she said, and why you probably shouldn’t bother leaving because you’ll just die. The dreams enforce the point; if you never go to the garbage dump and face the figure clad in black armor (as you learn from questioning Toriel, they are likely a member of the royal guard) then you’ll never have to deal with it. You’re a sheriff, and you’ve been given fair warning of the problems ahead of you. It would defeat the point of justice to ignore the warnings of being punished for something like that.
To preoccupy your time, you make maps for when you might have to leave. It’s been on your mind for a while, and you think that you’re ready to do it. The monsters of the ruins have helped you practice your dodging when you asked them, and even once or twice Toriel helped you, but always halfheartedly. What’s the point of practicing dodging when she purposely has her flames avoid you? A bit ridiculous, you think.
You get why, though. You’ve seen the shoes of the other children, even if she won’t talk about them. One day while wandering through the ruins (which you’ve made an extremely comprehensive map of), you found a blue ribbon. After figuring that it was probably from one of the past children, you decide it might be best to bury it. You have a froggit come over and help you with it, and then you have a long and luminous talk about the nature of death.
Nah, you and the frog practice your lasso. You’ve gotten really good at it, now, and it’s a good way to defuse a potential situation without anyone getting hurt. Also a good distraction if you need to get out of a situation quickly. For instance, if you’re wounded and being approached by a figure in black armor in a garbage dump.
…
Better not to think about it.
On this particular day, you’re busy checking some of the switches on the puzzles like Toriel told you to when you got up in the morning after breakfast. It’s good work, and you like being able to do something and manage the place. You’ve cleaned up some of the lead piles and made sure that the monsters listen to your authority when you tell them to do things; as you walk through the hallways you go through your checklist, reading each item out loud to yourself to make sure that no one’s unaccounted for. Your cowboy hat is resting comfortably on your head, your gun is at your side, and your boots make a click-clack on the cobblestone floor.
“Okay, let’s see. Separate Migosp and Loox, make sure no one’s picking on Loox. Check. Cheer up Whimsun…failed again.” Note to self: yelling at monsters to cheer up will not cheer them up. “Made sure that I ate a carrot in front of Vegetoid…check. Imitated Moldsmal, check. Complimented Froggit’s toady complexion, check. Okay, let’s just go fix the traps.”
You walk past a few rooms, make sure that the perspective switches are still working. Odd, they don’t seem to be. You switch them back on once you pass through, they make a satisfying clicking sound as the spikes pop back up-
Is that a yelping sound you just heard?
Darn it, a moldsmal might have been enjoying itself at one of the spikes! It’s a good thing you have the emergency pie slice in case one of the monsters get injured. A sheriff always comes prepared, after all, and although that emergency pie slice is also your emergency lunch, it’s important to make sure that everyone in the ruins is doing okay. Well, as okay as you can make them. You can’t help whimsun. Weird bug. | eea5df717f97471d9b9fa262c88fa932 | ['3b51ad6878ff4a1cb9f6f9b5aa2efeac'] | “GOOD IDEA, BROTHER! I TRUST THAT YOU WILL STAY HERE AND WATCH THIS ONE? TRY NOT TO FALL ASLEEP AND LOSE THEM.”
“don’t worry about it, bro.” Sans assures him, and then Papyrus is off, leaving the three of you. He turns to face you two.
“man, isn’t my brother cool? anyway, i wanted to talk to you two but never really got the time. here, let’s go to grillby’s, i know a shortcut.”
You cross your arms as you regain your senses, but it’s Frisk that asks the question. “The bar? Isn’t Grillby’s crawling with members of the royal guard?” How did she know that?
“nah, everyone followed mettaton. he’s a real…metia mogul, right?” Neither you or Frisk laugh. “yeah that wasn’t very good. my material is always worse before lunch.”
“I mean…I guess we could. No harm done, right?” You consider out loud and then look over to Frisk. They don’t seem that concerned one way or another, seems like they’re just trying to get over what just happened.
“then it’s settled.” You feel…something, and then after following him for an impossibly short time you go to Grillby’s. There’s some unsettling about the way you did that, but you decide against questioning the skeleton. There too much that you don’t know. Frisk on the other hand seems positively relaxed when it happens, like they've done it before. Maybe you’ll ask them about it later.
* * *
Sans is right; the bar _is_ empty. It’s just the bartender, a guy who’s head seems to be just fire. Sans sits down and orders a burger. Frisk also gets a burger and you get some fries.
“odd man out, huh.” Sans comments idly as the burgers are served. Sans sits to your right and Frisk to your left, though they just stare at the burger.
“Oh yeah, you’re still tied, haha…” You say nervously. This time you just fully untie her, much to her own surprise. Sans doesn’t seem to think much of it, but judging by the way Frisk keeps flicking her eyes over to Sans when she thinks he isn’t looking she’s too afraid of him to do anything anyway. After massaging her wrists, she digs into her food without further comment.
“so, my brother. what do you think of him?” The question comes out of nowhere and you’re thrown off by it. What a bizarre thing to ask. You barely know Papyrus, but you do your best to come up with an answer. Well, he seems pretty enthusiastic, full of determination which is something you can respect. He’s incredibly loud though, and his shtick can get obnoxious, but you aren’t exactly going to say that in front of Sans. At least he didn’t really try to fight you and judging by Frisk’s intactness and lack of fear at Papyrus they seem to be the skeleton brother they’re less worried about.
After finishing a fry, you give your answer. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool. I like the way he goes at everything with 100%.” Sans seems pleased by the answer judging by the way their grin widens just a tiny bit. It’s deeply unnerving.
“that’s how i think of it, yeah. so how long you been down here?” That one gives you more pause. Why would that interest him? Why would he ask you that unless he had some inkling you hadn’t just come down like Frisk did?
“About a…solid year now, I think.” Frisk seems to be listening in as well. You elaborate. “I came down because…I wasn’t really cool with how things were going up top, so to speak. So I left, found myself down here, and made my way around. I’m a sheriff now.” Maybe playing up that card can help. Sans doesn’t appear actively malicious but you can tell they seem to be watching and judging your actions.
“woah, kid, didn’t know they gave out those positions that early for humans. gives a new meaning to the word cow-boy.”
“Heh, yeah. And with Papyrus it can be a spaghetti western!” Frisk offers up with a rueful smile, but Sans doesn’t seem to get the joke.
“i don’t get it. that some human phrase?”
“Oh.” You realize, intervening to save Frisk from some embarrassment as she's already wilting from the bad reception. “Yeah, yeah it is.” Grillby gazes idly in your direction and you realize your mistake. “As I learnt from Undyine in training.” The fiery bartender goes back to cleaning a glass.
“yeah, when you’re down here make your puns applicable to both species. i mean it doesn’t get under my skin, but…” He shrugs his shoulders when both you and Frisk give him a glare. “jeez, that one was good. tough crowd. anyways, who made you sheriff?”
“Well, I kind of gave myself the position…” Frisk snickers and you pout, shoving a fry in your mouth in protest to her mockery. Also because you like fries.
“Hey, come on. Clearly I earned it because I captured you.”
Frisk rolls her eyes as she finishes her burger and then retorts, “Yeah, you ended up lassoing the dog really well. Loved the way it just /jumped/ into your rope. Really showed some skill.”
“heh. guess he roped you into this, then, kiddo?” Sans is addressing Frisk now. Frisk fiddles with some stray lettuce.
“No…I came down here because I wanted out. Out of...outside.” She neglects to finish that and you can’t really blame her. This isn’t that bad of a conversation, but Sans just gives you a bad feeling. Hard to explain.
“out of outside, huh? I know what you mean. so i just wanted to ask something. either of you encounter a little yellow talking flower?” There it is again, the dangerous flicker of the eyes. He’s talking to both of you but seems to be focused on Frisk. After a long silence she says yes sheepishly. |
3281578b308a4220be3d09e7e12c4b6f | ['3b6913abed0c41d3904556a8e2533071'] | "What," inhaled Seungcheol with a frown. He blinked at Jeonghan's turned back. There was a dispirited knot in his lungs but he couldn't find the heart to possibly get angry at Jeonghan the littlest bit. He was enduring a lot for him, he was probably going through so much... Jeonghan was never the self-conscious type, but you could tell this pregnancy was taking a toll on his body. Seungcheol wasn't complaining though. He thought that Jeonghan was still number one in his eyes, if not the only one. His trait of unending positivity told him that the extra baby fat just meant he had more to hold. And Seungcheol always loved giving, be it bigger hugs! He just wanted Jeonghan to always know that he was wanted. Scooching closer, quietly, Seungcheol pressed against Jeonghan's back. Not so much as to suffocate his other half, just share his warmth. But he didn't do anything until Jeonghan would speak. His father taught him patience was a virtue and certainly with Jeonghan, there was a reward. The reward was his happiness. And Seungcheol would wait. They didn't need their marriage to tell them his happiness was his. He'd do it for however time stretched out to be. "Why not, baby?"
"I hate how you ask me for things now, you used to just take—"
"Mm."
"—And I'd be happy with that because then I knew you were comfortable. It's like you're hardly yourself around me anymore," Jeonghan paused to clear his throat as it was clearly deteriorating in the middle. "If it's okay, to do this or that. Like it's not okay to kiss me. Like it's not okay for you to talk to me anymore. As if I'm not a human who needs your love and affection. Yours, Seungcheol." Jeonghan whipped his pretty head back around forty five degrees, revealing the red rings around one wet eye. "I'm not made of glass."
"I know you're not." Seungcheol quickly said, "You're so strong. That's why you're carrying my baby." Jeonghan furrowed his brows and Seungcheol squeezed his husband again. "This one's gonna be such a playful handful we're going to have to keep our eyes on her at all times, yeah? And there is no one else in this world, except you, who can do that. Because of that," he told him in a levelled tone. Because his own eyes were starting to water—not with sadness—with gratefulness. He hugged him, loosely, only so he could take in Jeonghan's lithe frame. He was still attractive now, to _him_. "Because I know you could do that for me. I'll have time to care for you. Take care of our baby, so I can look at you."
At this point Jeonghan had already turned his whole body around to face Seungcheol, buried face in his chest and curled into a ball or whatever shape his round stomach could let him become. His cheeks were pink as hell if he'd lifted his head up now. He was vulnerable, vulnerable to his husband's kind words and they wrapped around him like a safe blanket. He'd bare all of him to him insomuch as he was bearing his child now. Of course.
Jeonghan let his head rise to meet Seungcheol's gaze which was steady on him, still, all this time. But there was surprise in his husband's blinking eyes. He saw his embarrassed features reflected in them. And so he pouted, _it's your fault I'm blushing wildly so take the blame and make up for it,_ asking for a kiss.
His cheeks were aflame. Jeonghan was so pretty in pink, flustered on the whole, Seungcheol was taken aback. His husband's beauty would never fail to amaze him no matter how sappy that made Seungcheol. He held back his urge to snicker and tease, just to dodge ruining this moment. He broke, though, into an inevitable giggle when he saw the other forming his lips into a pout. Then he pecked it away. Once, twice, three times. He knew Jeonghan loved his goofy laugh anyway, that it would make him forgive him. He kissed his beloved's scolding glare away into another universe. "I missed you," he repeated deeply into one specially meaningful kiss. And a whisper, "so much."
"Me too." Seungcheol's proclamation elicited a soft whine from Jeonghan's lips, his leg somehow ending up on his husband's waist. _Somehow_. He loved that he was still flexible during these trying times. His husband kneaded a thumb on the skin above his knee, working up his thigh, like how their laying-down session had begun.
But his large hand remained firm in a grip once he reached his hip, holding him there. "I've been trying to control myself," Seungcheol chuckled, silent if not for their close proximity. _Come on, create a distraction._ "How much?" Though the question didn't stray far from his arousal.
Jeonghan wasn't buying it. He was pregnant and he had the same needs. (Multiplied by one hundred.) "So fucking much," he muttered with a facial expression he knew Seungcheol couldn't deny. His knitted eyebrows added to the damsel in distress facade. But really, he was interrogating through them, _why're you holding back, Seungcheol?_ Certainly he felt his hardness against his inner thigh. He wanted to ride up on it. | 489734e9e578429eaf88726ba9ec28f0 | ['3b6913abed0c41d3904556a8e2533071'] |
Clap
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you have fun reading sickly sweet coups and our resident angel bein' head over heels for each other :) if you don't like that it's cool just don't continue from here on.
> not beta read pls forgive however I am not sorry for letting this out of my system, it's good to de-stress! so yeah this is my first time trying explicit writing. enjoy 7k words of spicy times...
Seungcheol massaged his thumbs in gentle circles against the soft, plump skin around Jeonghan's hipbones. He had gained weight during this (first) pregnancy and it's been worrying his husband twice over today.
Jeonghan thought he was losing it spending time alone in the house with nobody but him and baby. He had talked aloud like it was responsive, hoping their unborn kid could hear the words of unconditional love and soon recognise his voice when she was brought into this world. The eventual idea made him shudder, albeit with some guilt. It was childish since he got into this situation already but imagining the day was maybe too soon. He might be going crazy with nervousness because he was narrating now.
"You're always coming back tired from work, being so nice to me... And still looking your best. Here I am useless at home though, doing nothing all day. And I'm fat." Jeonghan's words were said lightly, but he could feel an ugly tug at the pit of his stomach. Damn hormones.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Seungcheol breathed a laugh into his love's ear and his smile grazed against Jeonghan's cheek. "You're not fat, Hannie. You've always been beautiful, and." He leans back just to look at him and prove the point. "This pregnancy doesn't change that. You're at home taking care of our daughter and keeping our baby safe."
Seungcheol's so gentle and _genuine_ with his speech, with him, that it made something sting in his eyes. Jeonghan blinked that weak feeling away. He felt it in his knees every time it seemed Seungcheol's mission was to make his heart flutter. Right now he felt it in his swollen ankles. "I'm huge." Jeonghan's soul left his eyes as he stared past Seungcheol's head at the curtain pole. He didn't want to give a single minute of eye contact and remind himself that his husband was currently the only one who's handsome like a snack while he looked like a bloated beef and tomato pie.
Seungcheol thought he looked adorable. The tomato-red of his nose was always the tell-tale sign that his angel was on the verge of crying. His arms immediately wrapped around the other, tightly but not too much so that it was suffocating, in a ring surrounding both Jeonghan and his child. Jeonghan began to shake with tears. Well, he did it so he'd prevent him from crying but letting it out was great, too. No stress on the baby _and_ his Jeonghan, right? Seungcheol smiled. Jeonghan noticed and cried harder. His husband simply laughed.
_Why do you love me so much?_ Jeonghan hiccupped, "Why are you like this?" He hit his chest with a curled fist and the other man yelped. Jeonghan's punches were never gentle even though they didn't hold any hostility at all. But Seungcheol couldn't stop chuckling regardless.
"How has the day been for my baby?" Wasn't he meant to ask their golden breadwinner that? He missed those powerful days where he worked alongside him and helped out financially so much he wanted to burst out in pained laughter. But his husband still treated him like he was precious. Like he gave him all the world, when all he did was sit down for more than half the day. God, why was Seungcheol so good to him? Always, Jeonghan asked himself this at least seven times a week. It's what makes counting down the days easier.
Yet all he could do was sulk and it made him feel more like shit. "Me or your actual baby?"
"You." There was a slight whine in Seungcheol's voice and he nuzzled his nose into the crook of his neck. And in that moment Jeonghan's tears spilled over because he knew that feeling of missing your loved one was mutual. It was easier to give in to the self-conscious voice when you're pregnant and your body wasn't the way you're used to but not when Seungcheol was home.
He wouldn't care anymore, no more shying behind a false _I'm okay_ since Seungcheol was his husband and he could tell him anything. "What I did all day? Miss you." Jeonghan shimmied up as much as his inflated belly would allow to kiss his Seungcheol on the nose.
Seungcheol's smile met his eyes and they closed in an appreciative expression; it was so worth it. "I missed you too." Seungcheol returned the kiss to his forehead and he felt a priorly stiff Jeonghan relax in his arms. It was contagious and Seungcheol felt euphoric. He was bumping his nose against the other's, a hand careful on his cheek. It wasn't only literal that being with Jeonghan felt like coming home. As his voice softened a few notches, he breathed out, "Can I kiss you?"
Jeonghan removed his hand drying the tears from his face. "No." |
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