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438ee9e9869f4585b385089c852898a3 | ['3b71284e637c4a3db8488927c3fa0368'] |
An Unlikely Master: Story 5
**Author's Note:**
> Disclaimer: It pains my heart to say that I don’t own the Harry Potter universe or its characters.
In a quiet alley, sounds blunted and dulled by fresh fallen leaves of fall, two beings appeared with a soft pop that disrupted the other small sounds of nature, one of rather small stature, and the other quite the opposite. The shorter turned to the taller with a beaming smile well hidden beneath the shadows of his hood, and the taller’s hood was thrown back in exasperated amusement to reveal one Tom Riddle.
“Well, did it work Harry?”
“Did you doubt me Tom?”
“Mm, does that question need to be asked?”
“Hey!”
“I speak the truth and only the truth.”
“That is more false than Rita Skeeter’s plastic eyelashes and you know it.”
“Mm mm. Do I?”
Harry huffed. “Yes it worked. Oh ye of little faith. I’m a freaking genius.”
“‘A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself a be a fool.’”
“You promised to stop quoting Shakespeare at me!”
They both stood there for a while, each leaning against the alley wall, observing the way of nature in their temporary hideaway before Tom looked down at Harry with a malicious smile.
“Let’s just get to work then shall we? Have your parents even noticed that their child is missing?”
“Nope, they won’t until I replace him.”
***
Fate smiled sweetly down on them, smirking at her ‘brother’s’ manic grin. Death would not get to run the show this time, not for at least part of this life. She waved her hand firmly toward her sister, who grinned manically.
“Go on Chaos. Do what you do best.”
***
Tom and Harry vanished once more and reappeared in front of Godric’s Hollow, both invisible and shivering at the cold.
“Warming charms must be a new concept to you.” Tom remarked dryly, he flicked his wand and his shuddering ceased immediately.
“Oi you can do it just as easily as me.”
Harry smirked. “I guess I’ll see you when you come to ‘kill’ me. I’ll remind you that once I change to this life’s age and form, I will be mortal in a way, and vulnerable to spells. Not that I won’t just come back to life again, but really, don’t get curse happy, they will affect me.”
“Maybe I should try something….”
“If you do I will curse you back! You know I don’t have issue with it!”
“Alright brat, relax. You being vulnerable makes me so as well yes? We are connected.”
Harry nodded and stepped forward to hug the taller man tightly around the middle, squeezing.
“I’m gonna miiiiiiiss you! I won’t be to really talk to you easily for a while.”
“You are ridiculous.”
Despite this, the dark lord wrapped his arms around harry easily with only mild annoyance before stepping away.
“Good Luck then brat.”
“Good luck Tom!”
He watched Tom leave before shifting himself down to the form of his one year old mortal self and turned toward the house, ready to place himself back inside the crib he’d taken the ‘real’ baby Harry from. Something snapped. Harry whipped around, facing a familiar grin.
“Obliviate.”
“Oh shit.”
The world went black, and baby Death was placed into the crib.
***
Tom sat still, or rather tried to, tapping his quill against the parchment. He gave on writing the letter he’d been working on and set his quill down. Going over the plan one more time was as good as anything else to do…. The plan was too simple. Go to godric's hollow, murder Harry’s parent once again (they’d decided to do this since it would ensure the plan worked best, and they went to a better place, they weren’t tha heartless,) fire a light cutting curse at Harry to give him his famous scar, then drop him off at the nearest orphanage. Simple. Simply boring. Everything was so dull without Harry there to make annoying comments. But his levels of infuriated exasperation had gone down significantly, but Tom was finding that when faced with it, he would take that over boredom any day. He sighed and the door hinge creaked open. His eyes widened but he didn’t get the chance to turn around.
A whisper, “Obliviate tempus Harry.”
Obliviate. It was temporary, Harry—Tom almost managed to twist out of the way— Harry was a trigger for the memory wipe, what would it wipe—he didn’t.
***
Harry Potter was a strange baby.
“Lily! It’s him go! Take Harry and run! I’ll hold him off for as long as I can!”
Lily sobbed and rushed to the nursery, the door was blasted down.
Voldemort sneered. “Wandless Potter? Fool. Avada Kedavra.”
A thunk sounded as James Potter dropped like a puppet without strings. Lily desperately tried to barricade the door, young Harry only watched, head tilted. The nursery door was blasted through as well.
“Not Harry! Not Harry! Please! Take me instead! I’ll do anything! Not Harry!”
Voldemort tried to shift slightly, the baby he was here for hidden behind its stupid mother.
“Stand aside you foolish girl.”
“Not Harry!”
“Stand Aside!”
“Please!”
A green light flashed, and Harry blinked at the bright light and was forced to rub at his small face, eyes shut tight as bright spots danced across his vision. Voldemort faced the temporarily blinded baby and sneered.
“Pathetic. Avada Kedavra.”
Harry’s luminous eyes opened to stare at the spell in awe. Voldemort startled at the sight of the the green orbs, and Tom Riddle’s memories came flooding back. The spell of death struck Harry Potter, a lightning bolt left in its place, the air around the two beings was sucked in quickly, pulled all at once like a rush of water, before the green rebounded. Tom was once again too late to move in time.
“Damn.”
The robes of the dark lord fluttered to the floor, and Harry Potter watched on curiously. Fate cackled. A strange baby indeed.
***
Harry Potter had always been a strange boy. Left on the doorsteps one night, found on that morning, and then promptly tossed out the next when all the dead spiders in the cupboard under the stairs were found joyfully bundling up the stoic faced baby in silky webs. And so it was Nettle’s Orphanage that Harry found himself staying at for the next decade.
It wasn’t always obvious to others. Harry was a quiet boy, who rarely spoke except to politely ask favors, or perhaps to borrow a book that one as young as him really shouldn’t be able to read at his age. It was brushed off easily enough. A prodigy in their midst! Something as precious as that didn’t happen often after all. But children, Harry learned, were bitter creatures, and soon became subject to bullying. He really just wanted to read, he got bored easily, and it was often entertaining to listen to the types of insults that ten year olds came up with; Harry tolerated the verbal abuse. At least for his own amusement. But the other children were quick to push his patience and lenience, and soon enough they crossed the line. There was a lovely garden snake that Harry often spoke too, the sweetest thing. Harry was generally a private person, but he had never hidden is companion from others, he held pride in his friend, and the little snake told him he didn’t seem to hold enough of that emotion toward anything else. Harry knew the snake well enough to recognize it as a compliment, and grew more attached, in a way it was flattery to him, and Harry kept his friend close always. Until Brian Stud decided that Harry’s happiness had gone off long enough. Harry found his companion on his pillow that night. Stud’s hamster didn’t live to see the next day. There was no proof of course, but fingers were pointed and rumors were whispered and Harry became more and more isolated. Bullying wasn’t uncommon anymore, until Harry decided that bullies were of the lowliest vermin that could exist on the planet, he was tired of people stealing his meager meals. It wasn’t uncommon to see older orphans with broken bones these days, the sight remained a familiar scene. So Harry was a very odd boy. Smart, adored and feared. But the supposed prodigy knew, through the patches of his shirts and he holes in his socks that he was different. Some change would happen soon.
**Author's Note:**
> AN: Hiya! Fifth one shot in this series. These are the first fan fictions I’ve ever posted so constructive criticism is appreciated but a review of encouragement or kind words is always looked upon with a smile. Thank you for reading! | 4c33419cdebb4b7fa0d24e6a87b26b86 | ['3b71284e637c4a3db8488927c3fa0368'] |
An Unlikely Master: Story 4
**Author's Note:**
> Disclaimer: I am sorry to say that I don’t own Harry Potter.
“Pst. Tom, Tom!”
Harry rolled over silently and stared at the queen bed across from his. The hotel rooms below and above remained sleepy and silent.
“Wake up!”
Harry grinned when he heard muffled curse words, and threw his pillow at the taller man without regret.
“Oi, Tom! Wake up!”
Irritation clear in his every move, Tom turned his head in what looked to be an attempt at a one hundred-eighty degree rotation, refusing to turn the rest of his body.
“P—Harry, do you know what time it is?”
“No I don’t as a matter of fact, do you?”
“No! But that’s beside the point, the point is, is that it’s—”
Harry drew back the curtains beside his bed, sunlight beaming off the metal lampshade and onto Tom’s bedspread, the bright spot on the bed causing Tom to shield his eyes.
“It’s sunrise!” Harry laughed excitedly.
“Yes. Precisely my point.”
“Tom we can’t just be laying about when the sky is waking up.”
“I was asleep until a few seconds ago.”
Harry stood up dramatically, hair rumpled and clothing wrinkled from sleep; he jumped happily over the side of his bed, danced mischeviously over to Tom and prodded the other man’s head where he had lain it back down on his pillow.
“C’mon Tom, live a little.”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
Another prod.
“Brat!”
Tom stood quickly, glared darkly at the smaller man, and swiftly gathered up his blanket around himself to pull over his cold shoulders.
“Great you’re up, lets go!”
“Ok, stop, first off no, if we go to do anything I want coffee. Second, I’m not going out into that frigid weather shirtless Pot—Harry, I’m already cold if you haven’t noticed.”
Harry allowed himself a pout before waving the death stick and giving the both of them temporary conjured clothes, his eyes gleamed brightly in the dull light of the room.
“Coffee then.”
Tom nodded shortly and took Harry’s offered arm, quietly, both men vanished from between the crack behind the sunlit curtains.
***
Tom eyed Harry’s coffee cup
with unhidden disdain as the smaller man continued to add spoonful after spoonful of sugar, the white crystals eventually paused in their dissolving due to the accumulation of the sweetener.
”The amount of sugar in that cup of tea is absurd, you’re going to make yourself sick.”
Harry stirred his tea happily, not waiting for the crystals to completely dissolve, and drank, knocking back nearly half the cup despite its scalding temperature.
”Well I think drinking coffee is ridiculous, much less black,” Harry waved his hand absently toward Tom’s coffee cup from which the taller man was carefully rationing to last as they walked up the hill beyond little Hangleton.
”If you insist on waking me at an ungodly hour for a hike and a sun rise, then I’m going to drink coffee and it’s going to be black.”
”Ah don’t be a sourpuss.”
Harry turned to look at Tom with a grin, lifting his cup of tea up in a jarring toast and sloshing half of the remaining liquid over the lip.
Tom rolled his eyes, hiding the movement behind his hair, “You look drunken half the time.”
”Who says I’m not?”
”Brat.”
”Ha. You only say that when you’ve got no come back.”
“I say it when you’re being ridiculous.”
“Touché.”
***
Tom swirled his coffee around with a resigned expression as Harry dragged him up the hill once more, practically carrying him.
“Why must we do this every day? It’s incredibly dull to stare at a ball of fire every morning.”
“It’s tradition!”
Tom gave Harry an amused look.
“It’s tradition since you began dragging me here every morning. Twenty years of walking up this stupid hill Harry.”
Harry stopped suddenly and looked at Tom. “Do you really want to stop?”
Tom found that the answer to that was rather easy despite his annoyance.
“Mm. No, no I don’t mind.”
Harry easily stepped right back into the trek with a smile and tugged on Tom’s hand.
“I’ll take that as the seal of approval that it is.”
Tom smiled.
***
Harry sighed and banged his head into the ‘wall’ located inside the shadowy realm of death. The dark fog that constantly filled the area left wispy trails in the wake of anyone happening to walk by, sinewy strands often extended even farther behind and wrapped around any blackness unlucky enough to be stumbled upon, and trapped it in a rope like cage.
“Bored again?” Tom didn’t look up from his book, but rather turned to a new page, “Me too.”
“Ugh.”
“Why don’t you try to sleep? You keep the both of us awake.”
“I think I’m having an existential crisis!”
Tom did look up at this, and squinted at the smaller man. “You realize that you won’t pass on until at least a few billion years from now, yes? You have all the time in the world to do something,” he went back to his book.
“Yes but what have I been doing with my life Tom?” He flopped over onto Tom’s lap rather pathetically and the taller man lifted the book over his head so that the smaller wouldn’t crush it.
“It’s been what, a century since I plucked you up from the void and the most exciting thing that’s happened was killing Ginny Weasley!”
Tom sighed and closed the book, letting the realm suck the book back up to wherever it had come from, and ran a hand through Harry’s hair.
“Well what do you want to do Harry?”
“If i don’t do something memorable, I at least want to do something fun.”
“Fun? I’m already terrified.” |
8fa7e1a08ed94a84b6c9fbb02e2ceffb | ['3b7397330b3d440c9fa5433d24dc2b29'] | "Wow... ehm... I didn't know that...", Yoongi stuttered. "How was you supposed to know? But I think if I tell you about it right away it is no party-pooper if it comes up later." His smile was so sincere and honest, it took Yoongi with such surprise that he couldn't do anything than to retune Namjoons smile shyly. "So... What is it like to... You know. Do you have multiple personalities or something?", Yoongi asked. 'Just like Taehyung', he toughed. Namjoon laughed again. "Ah no, this is such a buzz! Schizophrenia has nothing to do with split personalities, this is all made up by hollywood and Thriller-Books. Well, sometimes I used to hear voices who weren't actually there. And I also had some pretty fucked up hallucinations in the past. But now, it got so much better since I came here to get discussed, and since I got the right medication. Now I just have to work on the... Well, the aftermath." Yoongi was truly stunned by the younger male. He was so happy and talked about his mental disorder like it was just an undesirable side effect of his life. He couldn't help but to look at Namjoon with absolute admiration. To handle something like Schizophrenia wasn't a piece of cake for sure, and he didn't want to even imagine how Namjoon had suffered from it before he came to seek help. But still, he didn't let his sickness drag him down and he was exuding so much strength and bliss. He smiled. "I think it is awesome how you deal with it, Namjoon!" Namjoon nodded proud. "Yeah, I ain't let some fucked up mental thing ruin my life!"
After he finished his plate he followed Namjoon into the common room. Most of the elderly patients where sitting around some of the tables, playing cards or reading books. His eyes drifted over the faces until he spotted the other boys. Jungkook was sitting next to Horseok in front of the tv, both of them had controllers in their hands and were playing some kind of game on a console, very loud and very enthusiastic. Behind them, on the same leather couch he was sitting on with Jimin a few hours ago, Taehyung was snuggle up to Jimin. His head way lying on Jimins shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around Jimins waist.
Yoongi felt confused, REALLY confused. Taehyung behaved like an asshole earlier, treating the other boy like trash, and now they were cuddling like nothing ever happened. He didn't want to ask Namjoon what kind of Disorder Taehyung had to deal with, even when the question was almost burning on his tongue. But like the boy said, this was nothing of his concern, right?
Namjoon sat down on the other leather couch, parallel to the one where Jimin was affectionately petting Taes head at the moment. Yoongi stand there for a moment, not sure what he should do or where he should go. But when his gaze met Jimins, who was smiling ever so happy, he decided to sit down beside Namjoon.
"Yoongiiishiiiiiii!", Taehyung chirped as soon as he saw him. "Come on, play with us! Jungkook is always way too competitive and destroys us, such a merciless musclebunny!", he complained and Jimin laughed, squeezing Taes cheeks. Jungkook just mumbled something under his breath, intently staring at the screen. What. The. Fuck? Tae had just turned back to the childish, happy guy from yesterday, sharing a lot of skin-ship with Jimin and grinning his Boxy grin. Was he supposed to act like nothing happen as well?
"Okay...?", Yoongi agreed after a while, timid. Happy with the answer Taehyung clapped his hands, just to throw them back around Jimin the next moment. This scene was so absurd. But peaceful, nonetheless. What was the deal with Taehyung? Yoongi thought that he should probably stay away from him, for he was way to wayward. But- Yoongi couldn't help but feel some kind go fascination for the younger man- no matter how much he was disturbed by his behavior. Whatever it was that surrounded Taehyung, it would be quite difficult for Yoongi to stay away.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I hope you're all enjoying DDOY, I try to write as much as I can, whenever I can :3 And also, I really don't know why Namjoon talkes like a gangster sometimes. It just happens in my head :D Pleas let me know if you want a playlist of the Songs I listen to while writing <3
9. Too Close
It was Friday Night when Taehyung snaps.
He tried so long to fight back the urge to escape. He really tried to take his medicine and talk about his problems like everyone else, he tried so much not to fail again. But when he finally breaks, it's the worst it has ever been.
He waits unto a little after 2 a.m. until he get's ready. He's putting on black leather pants, very tight and leaving not much to the imagination. A black Shirt with a black jacket and black boots. And then he left his room.
Taehyung did not know where he should go this night. He felt like he was on withdrawal, his hands restlessly fumbling at the zipper of his jacket as he lurked down the corridor. He shouldn't do this, he knew. But he couldn't possibly stay still any longer. His thoughts traveled to Jimin, to the way he treated him a few days ago. He couldn't remember much of what happened to be honest, but he could still see Jimins heartbroken expression everytime he closed his eyes. And he could still hear Min Yoongis voice, so hard and loud and full of disgust. | beef665161de41d79d1c760a58b6939a | ['3b7397330b3d440c9fa5433d24dc2b29'] | Jimin walked to the windowpane, his tiny hand was gripping his Shotgun tightly.
"Jimin, the fuck are you doing?", Yoongi asked, but there was an amused undertone in his voice. "I'm getting you a fucking Rolex", Jimin declared before he pointed his Shotgun to the glass. And as he exhaled a deep breath, he pulled the trigger.
Even tough Jimin and Yoongi had made extra sure that there was no danger and no Zombies near when they had entered the Mall, Jimin was so used to be as silent as possible, so that he wouldn't draw any unwanted attention, which was why he nearly jumped in panic at the sound of the ear-piercing bang his weapon made. The way the shattered glass hit the floor around Jimins feet was fainting in comparison. He turned around instinctively, checking the hallways of the Mall with hectic glares.
Yoongi seemed to be completely unimpressed by the racket Jimin had caused. He was looking at the younger boy with this special, wonderfull gummy smile. "You are fucking crazy, Park Jimin!", he chuckled.
"Who cares. We are doomed anyway. Let's at least have as much fun as we can. As long as we can.". Jimin turned back around to the now broken shop window. "Which one do you want?".
Yoongi came closer, the heart-stealing smile still on his lips. "I don't really care. You should choose one for me." Jimin nodded. He glimpsed at Yoongis hands. He couldn't really tell what it was about the other boys hands, but everytime he looked at them, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. They were so big and slender. He had seen Yoongi do indescribably cruel things with them. He had seen him stabbing all kinds of knifes into the heads of Zombies, had seen them covered with blood and gore. But he also knew how they felt like on his Skin when Yoongi touched him. They were warm, always so warm. And strong but still smooth.
The memories of the feelings they had caused on his naked body made Jimin blush. A burning heat was spreading out inside his body. He remembered the look on Yoongis face as the older boy had touched him on his thighs and a little bit further up. How his long slender fingers had felt inside of him.
He quickly averted his gaze, trying to concentrate on the gemmy objects in front of him.
After he had eyed all of the watches for a little time, Jimin chose a classic gold model with a black clock-face. He was sure that this watch would look impertinently good on Yoongis beautiful wrist.
"Give me your hand!", Jimin demanded after he had took the watch out of the display. He was considering for a moment if he should adjust it to the right time, until he realized that he had absolutely no clue what the right time was. So he just left it as it was. As he carefully placed the watch around Yoongis wrist, he could feel the other boys eyes on him. Burning glances on his skin. As he glimpsed up to Yoongis face, he noticed that he was closely paying attention to Jimins face instead of Jimins small hands that were fumbling around with the watches closure.
Jimin could hear his own stupid heart, it was pretty neigh pounding against his ribcage. Yoongi would most likely be able to hear it just as well, so when Jimin finally succeeded to attach the watch to Yoongis wrist, he took a step back. As he eyed the result, a weave of satisfaction was syringing trough his body. It looked even better than Jimin had pictured in his mind. The shade of gold was complimenting Yoongis pale skin in a beautiful way.
"Looks great!", Jimin mumbled. When he lifted his gaze again, his eyes met Yoongis. His sight was dark, but there was a mischievous sparkle dancing inside his pupils. Jimins mouth went dry.
"We... We should probably get back to... to the others...", Jimin stutter, "or they'll gonna get anxious!". He nervously licked his lips.
"You drive me insane when you do that.", Yoongi said with a low voice while he took a step closer. The small space that was left between them was heavy with tension.
"Do what?", Jimin asked, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
"When you lick your goddamn lips. I can hardly restrain myself not to bite down on them. I want to taste them so fucking bad right now." Yoongis rough voice send a shiver down Jimins spine and a shaky breath escaped his mouth. Yoongi grabbed him by the waist, dragging him closer until their bodys pressed against each other. When their lips collided, Jimin could swear that they almost stopped the earth.
Damn, how was this man able to make Jimin loose his mind with just the touch of his lips. Jimin couldn't resist him, even if he had wanted to.
Yoongi licked over Jimins plum lips, left burning traces on them before he let his tongue slip inside Jimins mouth.
Jimin couldn't hold back a tiny moan as Yoongi made his mind go hazy. The play of their tongues was demanding, sensual. It didn't took a long time before both of them where panting, Jimins hands buried in Yoongis hair, Yoongis hands under Jimins shirt.
The sudden crackle of Jimins mobile radio nearly caused him to jump back, a startled little yelp slipped out of his mouth.
"Jiminie, where are yoooouuuuu?". Taehyungs voice sounded tinny through the device. Jimin almost ripped it off his belt to answer. "Ah Tae, yes, yes we... We are heading back now.... We heave found so many things here, you will be so happy! I even found a little gift for you!", Jimin rambled while he tried to calm down.
He had turned his back to Yoongi and was hastily walking down the Malls hallway. And because he was completely occupied with rambling and trying to cool off, he didn't noticed how Yoongi was crouching down and grabbed something from the jewelry stores display. Precipitantly Yoongi let the little splendid thing disappear in the backpocket of his jeans. He followed Jimin with his eyes. He would give it to him soon. Very soon.
A beautiful smile layed on Yoongis lips as he trailed after Jimin while his fingers caressed the golden watch on his wrist. |
b4d521fd10414a0283a74c5c6f62f454 | ['3ba09b3a3bc5444795bd387c7542a437'] | “Right.” Arthur snickered, letting his hand rest on top of Alfred Fuzzy’s head. She perked up at the touch.
Alfred paused for a moment, suddenly unable to move, as his gaze fell upon his two favorite companions. Had Arthur always looked that beautiful doing absolutely nothing? Of course he had. Sunglasses on top of his head, limbs graceful, eyebrows always furrowed and lips always puckered for no reason. It didn’t seem fair to Alfred that even now, after they’d been together for almost two and a half years, Arthur still had the power to make him stop in his tracks and get lost in his beauty every time. Arthur glanced over at him, and when he saw him standing there, let out a sigh.
“What are you just standing there for? Get moving!”
“Okay, okay! I just need to put my shoes on.”
“You’re sure you packed everything?”
“Mhmm.”
Arthur opened his mouth to say something else, but never had the chance. Alfred walked across the room, bent down over the couch, and touched his lips to Arthur’s. He could taste the tobacco, the Earl Grey, the roses that had never actually been there.
Five minutes later, they were putting their bags into the trunk of Arthur’s blue MINI hatchback.
“I’ll drive!”
“Please. You’ll end up killing us both.”
“But I’m used to the switched roads now.”
“Liar. I’m driving.”
“Damn it.”
As Alfred squeezed into the passenger seat (which was, incidentally, the driver’s seat where he was from), he reached around Arthur’s back and pinched him. Arthur jumped, laughed, threw a few nonchalant insults, before turning his cheek into Alfred’s kiss. Once Alfred was in the seat, Alfred Fuzzy let out an excited bark, and hopped up into his lap.
“Good girl!”
Arthur got into the driver’s seat, turned the car on, rolled all the windows down, put his sunglasses on, pulled out a pack of gummy bears, and connected his phone to the Bluetooth.
“Ready, love?” he said, turning to face Alfred. Alfred reached up and brushed his cheek, traced his lips, leaned forward. Kissed him again. He could never kiss him too many times.
“Always,” he replied quietly.
* * *
_ You move like watercolor. You breathe out colors of the sunset, you blink in shades of grass and emerald green. You touch me the way an artist touches brush to canvas, you mark my skin and bleed your paint onto me. Sometimes you’re saturated and bright, sometimes you speak in gray and black hues. Everything about you is beautiful. _
* * *
They played Ben Howard on the road to nowhere, anywhere, somewhere they could do nothing but be together. Alfred Fuzzy put her paws against the window and stuck her head out to feel the wind. Arthur drove with one hand, let Alfred grasp the other.
“Truth or dare,” Alfred said.
“Dare.”
“Hmm.”
He brought Arthur’s hand up to his lips.
* * *
_Look at your lips—they dance and they speak acrylics. Your eyes are each a different universe that I’m floating between. I’m trapped in that little gap between your teeth. I put my palms against your chest, like this, and the touch overwhelms me so much that I worry for a moment that I’ve lost my heartbeat. That mine is yours, yours is mine, I don’t know. When you yell at me I hear music. When I carry you on my back I feel like a missing piece has been fitted to me._
* * *
“Tell me that you love me,” Alfred said.
“Really? _That’s_ your dare?” Arthur snorted. “You’re disappointing, Jones.”
“Come on, just do it! You picked dare, so now you have to do it.”
_Lovely as you are, lovely as you are._
“Fine,” Arthur sighed. He took his eyes off the road for that single moment and looked into Alfred’s eyes. “I love you. Happy?”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Of course I fucking mean it, you—”
“Arthuuuur!”
“I love you, Alfred, more than I can ever say, more than you’ll ever know, more than I can even comprehend sometimes.”
_Lovely as you are, lovely as you are._
“Better?”
“I love you, too.”
Then they drove forever through the English countryside. | 5b0fc7c783af43e3a0a56b447ddac6b2 | ['3ba09b3a3bc5444795bd387c7542a437'] | He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, and then began spreading it between my legs, right around my ass. It was cold and surprising, but he moved slowly, as promised.
“I’m gonna put a finger in. Is that all right?”
“Mhmm.”
I closed my eyes. I was surely tense, as he put a single finger, covered in lube, into me. I sucked in a breath. The pressure was painful—not too bad. He moved smoothly, until I let out the breath and started to relax. It didn’t quite feel good, but I was sure with time, it would.
“Doing all right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m gonna put another one in.”
“Okay.”
This time, it hurt a bit more. I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped my lips. He moved more slowly, making circles to loosen me up and relax me. My fingers dug into the sheets and my eyes squeezed tight. I wasn’t sure how long it was before I started to relax. Not quite painful anymore, more of a strange pressure. Not quite pleasurable, either.
“Okay...I’m ready,” I heard myself say.
“If you want me to stop any point, please tell me.”
“I will.”
I opened my eyes and there he was, looking down at me with such big, beautiful eyes. He kissed my sweating upper lip.
He leaned back up and ripped open one of the condom wrappers. I watched him slip it over his cock, practiced and measured, before putting his arms beneath my knees and steadying me.
“I’m gonna go really slow.”
“Okay.”
In the end, it turned out that I’d vastly underestimated just how much it would hurt. He did move slow, and steady, and whenever I screamed he stopped. But I wanted this to happen. I needed to feel this. I told him to keep going. I felt like I was really being carved out from the inside, the pain was sharp and intense and I bit my lip so hard that at one point I drew blood. He groaned in a gravelly voice as he fucked me. In, out, slowly back in. When I was least expecting it, he put a hand to my cheek, and it comforted me. Relaxed me. I let out a deep breath. Then he started to touch me, reassuring me it would help me relax.
Eventually, the pain stopped being so intense. I tried to move my body with his, rhythmic, because maybe that would improve this. He really seemed to know what he was doing. I grinded out against him each time he pushed his cock in, until we were moving together, practically dancing. My whimpers of pain started subsiding into moans of pleasure. He kissed me again, and started moving faster. I pushed the pain aside and focused on my movements, on the feeling of his hand around my cock. The white pleasure started to spread throughout my body, until I lost track of where I ended and he began—we moved, moved, moved, until he stiffened and gripped my thighs more tightly. As he slipped out, I continued gripping the sheet, realizing how _fucking close I was_ , but I hadn’t quite made it.
“Relax, Wamura.”
Before I could reply, he got back between my legs and brought his lips to the tip of my cock.
“Fuck,” I breathed, as he took me in.
It didn’t take long for me to finish after that. While I got dressed, he turned on the lights and went to the bathroom. I went when he was finished—both of us amazed at the lack of awkwardness. We stayed up doing research for another hour before I inevitably fell asleep his floor. I could barely walk the next day, and it hurt like hell to shit, but I still managed to make it to brunch with Haruichi, Kuramochi, and Ryousuke.
Kuramochi called me later to ask who I’d fucked.
18. truth of course
**18**
**truth of course**
The next few weeks were both some of the most frustrating and the most comforting since New Year’s.
I’ll start with the good—Kanemaru. After what happened on Saturday, we decided that, miraculously, my idea had turned out to be a good one. So we made a pact that until things shifted in our lives, as long as we were friends, we would keep doing this, because it gave a little blush to our cheeks and a bounce to our steps. It was never rushed or forced or awkward. Often it was after a show, or after a meeting. We would casually ask, wanna come over? And then we’d spend a few hours fucking and go to bed.
Our friendship didn’t shift much. We still argued constantly, I still did my job and he still did his, and now there was just an added dynamic of fucking at the end of the day. We never spent the nights together—we never felt quite right cuddling, though we’d tried. I demanded that I be little spoon, but that didn’t feel right, so then he tried being little spoon, and that really didn’t feel right. So we just settled on cumming and saying good night and heading home.
Kanemaru never failed to make me feel comforted and relaxed. I was taken care of in his bed. I was pleasured and I gave pleasure—each time we fucked I learned something new, got better at something. I started to feel the unbridled pleasure of getting fucked without the pain. I demanded that he tell me when I wasn’t doing something right and, soon enough, I was doing absolutely everything right. I was learning my own tricks just as he learned his. |
78a0ff0c69fa4f52975d9f2d156e3ef3 | ['3bd7c55029a74c618fb5825cf07104c2'] | Until one Tuesday night when Yoongi’s doorbell rang. He got up with a low growl because someone dared to disturb his precious after work time but every grudge he had held against the person in front of his door was wiped away the moment he opened it and was met with a shivering Taehyung. He let him inside and made tea for Taehyung to warm up before he sat down next to him. It took a while until Taehyung stopped shivering. It took another few minutes until Taehyung finally spoke up and confessed his feelings for Yoongi.
They started dating that night and everything just felt right. Everything fit in place. Yoongi smiled more now and didn’t hate the whole world anymore. They even managed to meet up during the week and go on cute coffee shop dates.
One weekend they had planned to visit the local aquarium. It was a nice day, sunny and warm even though it was already autumn. The aquarium was amazing and Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off of Taehyung who had found himself a new friend among the fishes. It was just too cute in Yoongi’s opinion and he just wanted to take a picture of his boyfriend when he noticed that Taehyung was swaying from side to side. Yoongi rushed over to him and only caught his unconscious body in time before it hit the ground. People had gathered around them, someone called the ambulance and Taehyung was brought to the nearest hospital.
The doctors told Yoongi that his beloved was diagnosed with Aggressive Natural Killer Cell Leukaemia and that Taehyung has had only two years at maximum to live. He asked the doctors if it could be treated and it could but most patients died two years after being diagnosed. Yoongi felt his entire world crashing down on him as he took everything in. He held his tears in as he sat down beside the still unconscious man on the sterile bed. The world must have really hated him. This night Yoongi stayed because there was no way he’d leave Taehyung alone in this room.
On the next day, the doctor checked on Taehyung and decided that he wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital anymore. Yoongi begged the doctor to let him stay with him until the end. The doctor agreed after five hours of constant begging.
During the first year it looked like Taehyung would make it. He got chemo therapy, constantly wore a beanie to hide that he’s no more hair on his head but he looked like he would make it. Yoongi didn’t mind that Taehyung didn’t have any hair on his head. All he wanted was for Taehyung to recover and come back home with him. But that was to remain a dream and he came to realize that the hard way.
It was during the second year, that Taehyung’s condition got worse and Yoongi wasn’t allowed inside his room for more than 15 minutes a day. It was hell. He could see Taehyung getting weaker and weaker each day and he thought it’s unfair. Why did god have to take away the only person in his life that mattered to him more than himself? He didn’t understand why it got worse because it had seemed like Taehyung had been making progress the last year. Now he could visibly see how his boyfriend lost weight almost on a daily basis, how he wasn’t able to hold in food any more or how he was too weak to even look at Yoongi. It hurt him so much and all he wanted was for Taehyung to not give up and keep fighting the disease.
But cancer isn’t something you could fight against easily. Yoongi was aware of that fact. Yet it still came as a huge shock when Taehyung’s heart stopped beating for the first time on December 3rd. The doctors could save Taehyung’s life and Yoongi cried as he sat next to Taehyung’s bed with gloves on his hands, a mask and a coat. The doctor told him he wasn’t allowed to touch Taehyung with his bare hands anymore. Taehyung was weak but he managed a soft smile and a whisper.
“We’ll meet again…I love you…”
Yoongi smiled back at him through his eyes, as the rest of his face was covered by the mask. His eyes were red and puffy, he gave Taehyungs bony hand a soft squeeze. And he knew that the next thing he was going to say was a huge terrible lie but it somehow calmed him down a little.
“We’ll go home together when you get better, my sweet angel…”
These were the last words he had told Taehyung because a day later Taehyung stopped breathing and the doctors failed to bring him back. Yoongi broke down in front of the room Taehyung used to be in. He had lost everything. The doctor had to give him a mild sedative to calm him down. It took Yoongi almost three hours to reach his apartment. He didn’t feel anything nor did he hear anything. It was like everything inside him turned numb. Yoongi was far from being okay and he wasn’t even up to pretend that he could still do his job. The hole he had fallen into was too deep to get out by himself. And it only got worse on the day of Taehyungs funeral.
The funeral took place on December 6th. A icy cold and windy day but Yoongi didn’t seem to notice. He had silently cried during the entire ceremony without really realizing what happened. He also declined the offer of holding a speech and left it to Taehyung’s friends and family, as he knew he wouldn’t get out one word. After the ceremony, the guests walked behind the coffin until they reached the open grave. The coffin was slowly lowered into the hole and that’s where Yoongi realized that this was good bye forever. He broke down with a piercing scream and someone hugged him close to calm him down.
This was what hell must be like. Nothing had ever hurt Yoongi as much as seeing the wooden coffin lowered into the grave. It took Namjoon an hour to calm Yoongi down to a level where he could get up again. Namjoon took Yoongi home and made sure that he was asleep before he left the apartment.
Yoongi visited the grave every day. Sat in front of it and told his angel about his day, how much he misses him and sometimes he fell asleep on the ground. His life had been turned back to being hell.
After a year Yoongi reached his limit. Everything reminded him of Taehyung and it’s just too much for him to handle. His life became meaningless the day he lost the love of his life. Everything became dull and there hadn’t been a day where Yoongi wasn’t crying himself to sleep. He must’ve looked like a zombie by now as he stood on the edge of the roof of his apartment complex. There’s no one who stopped him as he stepped into the air.
He hits the ground but he doesn’t feel any pain. Yoongi stares down on his dead body from mid-air. Sees how people flock around it, call the ambulance and try to bring him back and he hopes that it doesn’t work. When the ambulance arrives, the doctor can only attest his death and he’s glad. Now he won’t be suffering any more. Now he was a chance of meeting his sweet angel again. He turns to fly towards the dark sky as he feels a hand on his own and looks around to see his Taehyung. He’s so happy, so glad to finally be able to meet him again and he squeezes his hand tightly. Taehyung returns the squeeze with a bright smile.
“Welcome home, love.” | 1dc9998aadf94699b6f95c3af944f6e5 | ['3bd7c55029a74c618fb5825cf07104c2'] |
Illuminated;
**Author's Note:**
> Okay guys, I'm sorry for the wait (?)
> I've edited the entire story and altered some parts. I've put more details into it now because it was really rushed before and I was really unsatisfied with it too.
> I hope you guys like it better now, I'd be nice if you could leave some critiques :)
They met one night in a club. One of those clubs you only go to when you’ve reached your limit and just need to get wasted, let go of all your problems and forget for a while. The loud, booming music takes away his thoughts as he enters the venue. The smell of alcohol, various perfumes, smoke and sweat hit his nose and he swore to himself that he’s never going to set a foot in this club again. Tonight was just an exception. Tonight he just really needed to get wasted. There’s been so much stress pent up from work and he barely has had time for himself anymore. He’s reached his limit.
The young man walked over to the bar, avoiding to look at anybody in particular and ordered himself a White Russian. He sat down on an empty stool and took a sip. There’s a man next to him, he noticed. The man looked about his age but looks are made to deceive and most probably the man was younger than him anyway. He took another sip when the man decided to start talking to him with a pleasantly low voice. It’s hard to understand what he’s saying over the bass, so the man leaned in closer, almost touching his ear with his plump lips.
“I’m Kim Taehyung. Nice to meet you.”
A smile graced Taehyung’s features after he sat back and Yoongi had to admit that this Taehyung-guy was really rather good looking. Though he didn’t want to talk tonight, he just wanted to get wasted really bad. If possible, he enjoyed the idea of being run over by a truck any moment because really, he hated his current life way too much for his own good. But he decided to answer Taehyung out of pure kindness.
“Min Yoongi.”
The reply was short and monotone and Yoongi didn’t expect Taehyung to stay with him. But to his surprise he did. They enjoyed a couple of more drinks and some more small talk. After their fifth drink Yoongi felt the alcohol kicking in and as he looked at Taehyung he knew they are on the right way to blow their brains out with alcohol. It felt good.
A few hours later Yoongi found himself dancing with Taehyung on the dancefloor. Yoongi hated dancing or rather he hated any kind of physical exertion. But right now, he felt good, there’s even a small smile on his thin lips. Their bodies were pressed against each other with Taehyung’s hands rested on Yoongi’s hips and Yoongi’s hands draped loosely around Taehyung’s neck. They just dance and lost themselves to the music.
It’s six in the morning on a Saturday when Yoongi and Taehyung left the almost empty club. Tightly clinging to one another as to not lose their balance and crash into the next wall or something. They reached a crossroad where they said good bye and promised to meet again someday soon.
Taehyung walked away from him and he stared after him. Only when he couldn’t make out the others silhouette he decided to return to his own apartment. His head felt fuzzy from the alcohol and his mind was full with thoughts of Taehyung. He felt warm and giddy as he climbs the stairs to his door with much help from the handrail on both sides of the stairs. When he entered his apartment, he kicked his shoes off and couldn’t stop smiling to himself. Yoongi knew it’s mostly thanks to the cocktails he has had but a tiny part of him knew the rest was because of the young man he had met. He fell onto his bed and thought that maybe the next time they’d meet he should be sober and ask Taehyung for his number.
When Yoongi woke up the next morning he was greeted by a monstrous headache but also by a thought that hadn’t occurred to him for a long time. Because maybe, just maybe, his life wouldn’t be as hellish as it has been if he would be able to make friends with Kim Taehyung.
It took about a week until Yoongi’s phone vibrates and a text popped up on the screen. Just a simple text, asking how he was and pretty much just the usual small talk one does to keep in touch but it made Yoongi happy. He wasn’t really the type to text anyone but it felt right when he sent short texts back and forth.
They never met during the week as Yoongi was always busy with work and he supposed the same applied to Taehyung. So, their meetings were limited to Fridays at the club and sometimes staying at each others places to have sleepovers and late-night talks about nothing and everything. Sometimes they’d start making out, even when both were sober but Yoongi never felt uncomfortable.
Yoongi noticed a couple of days later that he fell for the slightly taller man but was hesitant to confess. He thought about what could happen if he would confess and Taehyung would reject him. Maybe their friendship would’ve died and Yoongi didn’t want it to end, so he kept his feelings to himself. |
4944808716a648c1b9e12fd4ae17aba4 | ['3be3675af7d6414e9c4b3d2b991927fc'] | Inside the fancy apartment, he held onto the dark-haired man “I feel if I let you go now, you will evaporate into thin air, like a dream” he comforted him, kissing the crown of his head affectionally.
"Will, I ever see you again?" The redhead wondered. He knew that Mok-Rang won't linger as a human, eventually, he just leaves.
In return he said teasingly "it depends on how full is the offering table, I will return when the season changes" his tone remained playful" Here take this" he handed him a letter.
" Seek the person in the letter in central Seoul, they will assist you” Chul took it but not without hesitation.
"Let's have a drink before the sun sets completely" He suggested. Because Mok-Rang wasn't a person whom you can persuade, it’s better to accept his fate, might as well benefit from the time they have left.
The sun, disappearing gradually, leaves an array of oranges and purples. Even if Chul suggested the drinks but his feelings were getting the best of him, the wine bottle sat there abandoned between both at the veranda where they both spent their last moments together.
Mok-Rang leaned over kissing Chul goodbye. As soon as their lips touched Chul broke into tears. Gently Mok-Rang pulled away gaze locked with the crying young man.
"Live on, your suffering is in the past from now on only a bright future awaits"
His words didn't set him at ease at all "without you once again" he sighed, his chest heavy, his heart is breaking again. The words that he told himself over and over kept ringing in his ears.
_I am not good enough to be loved_
Gently he reached to wipe the tears; the last rays of sunshine illuminated both. Short hair turned back to long locks of dark hair. Deep green eyes turned emerald again, his modern clothes changed to the royal blue hanbok adorned with gold threads.
"You chose me between all the other jolly gods, I’m thankful!” he said walking away, he wanted to stop him so bad, yet he can’t.
His thoughts went back to the owner of the shrine, and why would Mok-Rang keep a promise, centuries old. If not love! then what is it?
11. Twenty-Odd Years
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The letter led Chul to an old acquaintance of Mok-Rang, to jump-start his new career,
> Jealous people try to bully him and it returns to bite them back.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I will probably be too busy with driving lessons to update before the next weekend but I will do my best. Those who are here for the smut sorry not yet, but I promise there will be something for you in a couple of chapters.
>
> Love this story please and support it with positive feedbacks.
In the course of three months, Chul sold the house and bought a smaller apartment in central Seoul, the letter guided him to a tall building in a posh area of the city, the interior had posters of people he reckoned might be actresses, models, etc.
As nervous as he was, he tried guessing out to whom this should be given. He entered the elevator, crammed with well-dressed men and women, his anxiousness rising up, he didn’t notice he was hyperventilating. “Hey, are you okay.” A man dressed in a suit; his hair combed to the back.
Chul was brought back to reality by his words “…I…I am sorry, but can you tell me where I can find this person” he handed him the envelope.
The letter directed to the executive director Hwang Lisa, the man was her secretary, he asked him to follow him, the elevator stopped on the 16th floor, instantly he could tell it was where her office should be.
When he heard the title and the name it didn’t match, he imagined an old greying crone, but instead a chic woman in her early 40s, designer black-rimmed glasses, a solitary diamond butterfly resting on the right side of the frame.
Her hair colored a chocolate brown styled neatly, she spoke clearly but with an air of authority "Damn that Mok-Rang, I don’t see him for twenty-odd years and now he has the audacity to ask for favors" she seemed annoyed but not horribly upset, Chul in all honesty didn’t know what to say so he decided to remain silent. He only opened the company’s address but not the attached inside.
“So, do you have a last name? and how old you might be” she didn’t wait for an answer, she referred him to her secretary saying he will take care of it.
Soon before realizing his life has taken a different path, quickly gaining attention for his eagerness and diligence, both contemporary and traditional dancing was in his grasp.
Still, the empty feeling in his heart was still there, no matter what. He waited for Mok-Rang's appearance once again, not meeting anyone, drowning himself with training.
Naturally, his achievements did make him a target of bullying. at some point in the earlier days, always staying behind in the dance practice room to perfect his routine. The door was locked appearing behind it a small group of fellow trainees “Something stinks in here, oh it must be this slut who thinks he is better than us” Chul took a defensive pose, but he took no action.
One girl from the group continued “You probably fucked some executive to get here” Chul simply laughed and pointed out a not so obvious surveillance camera. “So, what if I did, huh. Am I not sweating my heart out while you’re out partying every day?” his bullies had no rebuttal for this truth.
On the next day, they were asked to leave the company and an official stamen was released on marks of their departure.
” _we don’t tolerate bullies in our esteemed establishment, our artists are our priority”_
12. Old Flames | 5c25b3f94f3348bb98b21cc10ec86b42 | ['3be3675af7d6414e9c4b3d2b991927fc'] | He didn’t protest or anything, despite all he wanted to do is spend the day in bed, alone with his thoughts. Instead he hopped off on his two feet, washed and was about to grab an old pair of jeans that was laying on the only couch he had. He saw the new items that Chung-Hee bought him placed in a small brown bag, he almost forgot in his hurry yesterday that he had changed before sneaking out.
They still carried Chung-Hee's strong cologne; he stood in front of the sink's mirror "Wake-up Chulli, now you have to face reality, he didn’t mean the words he said-"
It was noisy on the way to the kitchen, so lively and bright. Upon entering he was surprised by a small gypsy woman throwing flower petals at him, then everyone in unison yelled "Happy birthday, our Chulli" . His light-brown eyes filled with confusion, until Hu-Ye approached him and shoved a piece of confectionery in his mouth; everyone was laughing in delight and amusement. "I thought-" one of the boys finished his sentence" -thought this was instead of the dinner for Hu-Ye's departure right? You're well not entirely mistaken" he smiled at him.
"Actually the dinner was cancelled, and while preparing for this, everyone mentioned that you never had a birthday, and we decided that we should do it anyway"
"Even if we didn’t know, when you were really born, and if this is my farewell party, nothing beats a good memory to accompany it" Hu-Ye was still beside Chul when he said that this is both a farewell/birthday party.
" I-I don't know what to say, I can't remember the date of my birth, thanks for giving me a new one" he smiled at them, but he was sad from the inside, he was different from the others, no money would satisfy the Baron.
He always made sure to remind Chul that he is owned by him, until the debt is paid, which the red-head knew already that he will never pay, because it keeps adding up.
The staff and the boys were having a good time, enjoying the variety of foods, and singing; even if it was off-tune at times it was all fun and light-hearted.
The party finished and Hu-Ye gave everyone his warmest hugs and good-bye kisses, when he reached the red-head, he gave him a bone-crushing hug, it surprised Chul a bit but he settled to hug back. "Thank you; really I can't even say how much I am grateful, once my father is well again, I will get you out of here"
Another sweet promise that can't be fulfilled, the younger thought, but he said nothing,
That night he got called again, this time the news wasn't good, the Baron was accompanied by a man he didn't recognize, but he did look like Chung-Hee but just slightly.
When he entered the room he heard a gasp "Such a fine gem, Baron where were you hiding him" he giggled.
The man grabbed a glass with a golden liquid "tomorrow is my son's birthday and I heard him talk once about a certain boy from your "jewel" collection, with red hair and remarkable features, a nice gift to make him content" he signed for Chul to come to him and placed him to sit on his lap. He offered him some of that liquid he was drinking, the red-head instead dipped his fingers fishing for a piece of ice in it and licked the seeping liquid on his wrist, all the while giving the man a sultry look.
The Baron nodded in agreement, the man continued "I take it he'll be able to satisfy my son's "needs" he can be a bit sadistic at times, I'm afraid I can't tell what he'll do"
"You'll find the boy very enduring, and obedient too" they talked about him as if he didn’t exist, luckily the man said he had a busy schedule, and excused himself " I will send the information with my secretary some time later on, now I'll take my leave".
He kneeled beside the throne-like chair, after he got off the man's lap. However the older man lifted him to stand up and sit on the chair's arm.
"I know that kind of people, their wealth makes them think they're untouchable, if you're not careful, you might get killed, whatever role he puts you through play it well"
Chul wondered why the Baron was less mean to him now, he dared to voice his concerns "I'm terminally ill, right? The doctor actually told you that I'm dying and you decided to pity me"
The man laughed so hard, he turned red "what are you saying? Being around Mok-Rang has messed up with your head" despite being serious, he didn’t get what's so funny.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Whew this chapter and the next were so heavy on my heart,I see the end of this fic somewhere but nothing is decided yet.
> Hope you enjoyed it,and sorry for not updating often.
10. Just say the words and I'll erase all of your unhappiness
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Chung-Hee and Chul re-encounter again,under the worst circumstances.
> Still both parties unsure of what they mean to each other,and perhaps pushing the thought away/
>
> and Chul gets abused again,but this time he does things to spite Chung-Hee and injures himself.
> Then Mok-Rang shows up and Chung-Hee gets surprised by him overall.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> It's not going to be a pretty fluffy chapter,you're warned.
Chul for the first time in his life wore a leather collar with a long chain attached to it. The collar wasn't really tight but it felt weird against his skin, but the collar is just the least of his troubles. |
d377128ebf904c999c20d8f30f0d5f13 | ['3be5102ac72a4bb491d02ec36adb1403'] | 3. Graymalkin Lane
“How was Dartmouth?” Jean asks.
“Amazing,” Bobby says. “Think I should transfer there? I loved the party scene. Also I caught a bad guy trying to steal computers.”
Jean frowns when Bobby says “party scene,” then lets it go. “You’re here to giftwrap the mansion again?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bobby says. “It’s one talent that nobody else seems to have.” All these years and he’s still defensive about the days when he got called the least powerful X-Man, just because he was the youngest, and didn’t take himself seriously. (While the actual least powerful X-Man, Warren, had…. no shortage of confidence.) Things, Jean thinks, are better now, if you don’t count the increased frequency with which reality-warpers, sentient islands and out-of-control Pentagon programs try to blow up the world. But some things never change.
“Some things never change,” Bobby says, “but as long as Ben Grimm is planning to stay in New York for Hannukah, I thought I’d come back same as always. Going to do the windows and the doors and the roof and then start with the sculpture,” he continues, running and then ice-sliding out of the rec room, then out the front door, up an ice slide, and around the side.
It’s the second full year since the all-new team convened, the one with Logan and Kurt and Ororo and Piotr, and he’s still getting to know them—he visits the mansion a couple of times a year; but if Scott’s happy there—or “happy,” for Scott; it needs scare quotes—then everybody’s making the right choice. Especially Scott. Or Scott and Jean. Who seem very happy. The couple they always meant to be. Holding hands like teens, of course, but sounding like adults.
Bobby drapes the mansion in stars and snowflakes, laying the groundwork for ice statues and ice slides. Who deserves a statue this time around? (Cartoon animals? Michael Jackson? Steve Martin?)
He’ll need to get up to the second and third stories, and on to the roof, to get the sightlines he needs for the ice gazebo, as well as the slides. There are the shareable bedrooms left vacant for new students, the ones that he’s heard the Professor will shortly fill. There’s the one with the double doors to the balcony, the only one Warren ever used. There’s the severe third-floor window that’s always been Scott’s, which Bobby is going to need as an anchor if the ambitious Silver Surfer statue with winking, flipping multiple surfboards is going to—
Oh. There’s somebody in Scott’s room, and the curtains are open, and it isn’t Scott, and it’s somebody with dark hair, so it isn’t Jean. Bobby knows he shouldn’t look, but he wants to know, and after all, when they were all teens and still living here, any of them would have stopped to look—
Two figures, both broad-shouldered, one more than the other, are seated on Scott’s bed. The shorter one has distinctive, two-pronged dark hair, and a stunning amount of back hair, and a towel on, kissing… Scott. It’s Logan and Scott.
Bobby ice-slides all the way down to the front door and then through it, his sculptures on pause. Once indoors, he almost slips on his own ice and falls on his butt, but rights himself in a cloud of crystal and vapor.
Jean’s in the front parlor, reading, apparently, a book called The Song of the Lark. “Um, uh, ice to—snow problem—I’ll just slush on out of here,” Bobby sputters, and then realizes he’s facing a telepath.
“I know I’m the only woman in Scott’s life,” Jean says. “That’s exactly what both of us want.” She’s smiling. She knew everything. Of course.
Bobby would have to be better at reading faces, or better at reading himself, to realize how much of what is now going on inside Bobby is something Jean long knew. But she also knows he’s not ready to say. Better change the mood. Lighten it up. That's what Bobby would do.
“I have an idea for the front lawn this time,” she continues, giving Bobby one more beat to process the discovery. “Birds. Really big birds.”
She might be joking. She might not be joking. It might just be the first thing that came to her mind. Either way, Bobby can take a joke.
One hour later the X-Mansion’s front lawn flaunts a menorah, and a shining Christmas tree with snow on its top boughs, and an entire ice scene from Sesame Street: Bert and Ernie. Kermit the Frog (with a thick ice visor). Snuffleupagus, the enormous friendly secret monster none of the adults on the show could see. And—stocky, feathered, enormous-- Big Bird.
**Author's Note:**
> Chapter 1 takes place sometime during the Iceman ongoing, first series (2017). Chapter 2 takes place early on in Extraordinary X-Men. Chapter 3 takes place after Marvel Bizarre Adventures: Iceman, and before Uncanny X-Men 129. The St. Paul winter carnival is real, and very much recommended. Title by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. | f8427e195b49453a84d00478de224b50 | ['3be5102ac72a4bb491d02ec36adb1403'] |
X-Treme Office Hours
Professor Adam rubbed all four of his suede sleeve patches and swore slightly under his breath. He was looking at the department’s poster for his newest, coolest course, and it would never do. It was all wrong. Not “How to Be David Foster Wallace.” It was a class about Being. And being cool. And skateboarding, and chase scenes, and how to start plots that never end. And brooding.
It was supposed to be “How to Be: David Foster Wallace.” Without the colon it just seemed…. weak. Adam would have to make up for it by bringing his skateboard to class. Would that be enough, though? Nothing was ever enough.
His office hours were almost over and no one had come this week, though term had just started. It was just as well. He needed all the research time he could patch together if he was ever going to find out where we all came from, what it was all about, why everything was so hard, so tough, so extreme.
He plucked one more long, blond hair out of his keyboard. The hairs were his own. They fell out a lot, but they grew back in. Sometimes he wondered whether, given how much testosterone he had, the hairs would fall out someday and never grow back. His levels of testosterone were extreme. But he told himself that they powered his research. He could discover it all if they just gave him time. But the faculty never gave him time. They never gave him enough time.
At least he had one piece for Notes and Queries that he could polish up and send off the next morning before sunrise. He had managed, he told himself to “find out who the name on this piece of paper is. Milbury.” He was a publisher who had worked with George Eliot briefly in the 1860s. His methods of distributing his circulating library were methods that Eliot and her partner John Henry Lewes had considered unethical. To Milbury, though, they were just extreme.
Adam took out a letter opener, and then another letter opener, and then a butter knife, and then a paring knife, from the bottom right drawer of his teak desk, the one where he kept all the knives. He put them into the pockets of his tweed jacket. He was always going through jacket pockets. He didn’t know why. Sometimes coins fell out of his pockets during class.
He taught literary theory. It was a popular class. He tried to sum it up with pithy slogans, and to keep the class involved. “Since these signs tell us up is down and left is right,” he had asked the students, “what do you suggest?” They just stared back at him. His eyes, he remembered flashed back at them. Maybe he was too intimidating. Or too extreme.
He had to teach the class every year, due to budget cuts. “I’m doing it,” he told himself, “because I have no choice in the matter.” The department chair simply hadn’t given him one. He gritted his death and re-opened that book by Agamben, the one about how we are all exiles, how we all live outside the law.
Probably the chair had it in for him because he once fought for the old curriculum. He wanted those stories about the Great War, about survival in Alaska, about space, right out there where kids could read them. Kids needed those stories. Just like he needed his leather cap. There had been tea spilled in the lounge, and at one point a vote by secret ballot. His colleagues were shocked. “I do not fight—I have never fought—because I want to,” he had told them, enunciating very carefully, “but rather because I have to!”
A grinding noise brought him back to the present day, to this afternoon in his office, as it shook the wheels on his skateboard, the laces in his lace-up boots, the brim of his cap. All four of his CD players were playing at once: Foo Fighters and Operation Ivy and Neil Young’s Tonight’s the Night and Korn. Some kind of electrical surge, he supposed. Maybe the groove created by all the music at once could help him stay in one place, focus, get back to the books in front of him. “I’m a traveler,” he said to himself. “A wanderer, searching for his home.” The music could take him there.
At least they let him teach his courses: David Foster Wallace, Heinlein, Jack London.
Professor Boomer Philip entered the cluttered office, nearly banging her head on the metal mobile, nearly tripping over the metal sculptures by the leather chair. “Can my wife ask you for help with a big lecture class next time she sees you?” the visitor opened. Boomer’s wife was a leading historian of America’s space program. “She’s only ever taught seminars and she’s gonna give that big lecture on NASA.” Boomer fingered the tiny metal figures on Adam’s desk. It was hard even now for her not to sneak them into her capacious purse.
“It never has been something I could truly appreciate, Philip,” Adam replied. “What good is it to be among the stars, to have seen the face of infinity, if you are empty inside your head?”
Professor Boomer Philip frowned. Her colleague was so frustrating: gentle and kind, at times, and full of energy to help others, but so, so self-absorbed. “Amara really could use your help,” she said.
“You needn’t be afraid,” Adam responded curtly. “I’m not the enemy.”
“You certainly acted like one at last week’s meeting,” Boomer said. “Why did you storm out like that? Why did you take the microphone? We could all hear you skateboarding home. All the Dean did was call you—“ |
e75ebc052b2c4d45ab30e86e3c31a898 | ['3bee1508b348452290365182e9497861'] |
You're So Sweet
**Author's Note:**
> Namjoon is younger. Seokjin is older. There's really no backstory other than it's movie night turned sexy night ;)
>
> Basically just a buttload of Namjin smut. Whoops.
>
>
>
> __________________________________________________________________
Namjoon hovered above and sprayed a nice dollop of whipped cream onto Seokjin's nose.
"Hey! I said no fooling around with sticky substances," Seokjin whined from below.
Namjoon chuckled but ignored the older's request. Instead he leaned in close, causing Seokjin's goofy grin to fade. Namjoon gently kissed the tip of his nose, easily removing the sweet cream.
"Mmm, you taste good," Namjoon murmured softly into Seokjin's ear. Seokjin shivered slightly, feeling the younger's warm breath tickle his ear.
"That's the whipped cream you're talking about, you fool."
"I don't think so. You taste really good...here."
Namjoon shifted lower so he could press his lips against Seokjin's soft, supple neck. He then flicked his tongue out to lick a stripe up to Seokjin's sharp yet soft jaw. Seokjin's eyes fluttered shut, mindfully taking in the tingling sensations traveling up his body.
"Why thank you," Seokjin breathed, "Mind you, I'd like to point out that there are much sweeter places on my body"
Seokjin voice stuttered a little as Namjoon sprayed more whipped cream onto what little of his collarbone was showing from his loose T shirt.
"Hey, I said no more cream. That stuff gets really sticky."
Namjoon ignored the remark and busied himself kissing around the cream, sucking softly on Seokjin's smooth chest. He found Seokjin's skin rather addicting.
"I want to taste you more." Namjoon's voice rumbled, sounding a little deeper and more rough than usual.
Seokjin shifted feeling himself grow aroused, but he was a bit uncomfortable with the position he was in. He was laying on their living room couch beneath Namjoon, who had both arms and legs pinned on either side of his body. His neck was on the armrest of the couch, craned to the side to give Namjoon's lips clear access.
They had been watching a movie but now it was finished with the credits rolling down the TV screen. Earlier Seokjin had been craving sweets so Namjoon had come back with a can of whipped cream and a few cookies. The cookies were long gone. The concerns of whether the movie was actually good or not were no longer a priority.
"If you're determined to keep going, can we move to the bedroom?" Seokjin implored.
Namjoon looked up from his position over Seokjin's chest, which was now dotted with small spots of heated skin.
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. More room."
Once in the bedroom Seokjin turned to face Namjoon. The younger grinned back and placed both hands on Seokjin's broad shoulders. He gently pushed the older backward, having him sit on the bed. Then he pushed Seokjin's upper body into the cushion below, leaving his long legs to hang over the edge. He leaned in to kiss Seokjin deeply.
Seokjin opened his mouth, letting Namjoon press his tongue inside. Seokjin moaned, feeling his mouth overtaken completely. He reached up to rake his fingers through Namjoon's hair and pulled the younger's head down to deepen the kiss even more.
Namjoon groaned, the kiss becoming more intense. He grasped Seokjin's lower lip between his teeth and pulled the plump flesh gently before dominating Seokjin's mouth again with his own.
Seokjin's mind was growing hazy with pleasure. Namjoon's lips alone were already beginning to drive him crazy. His whole body felt extremely warm and tingly. The younger seemed to always have that effect on him. They'd known each other for three years and had only been dating for a year, but every kiss and touch felt as overwhelmingly good as the last.
Seokjin broke the kiss, gasping for breath, "I want more."
Namjoon panted, "I love how demanding you are."
"Seokjin-power bottom at your service," Seokjin performed a comical salute in Namjoon's direction. His grin was lazy as he was still slightly delirious from the make out session.
Namjoon smiled widely.
"I need you to scoot up," Namjoon requested.
Seokjin nodded and used his arms to shimmy upward so his whole body was on the bed. He settled his head onto the downy pillows adorning the headboard. Namjoon stayed standing the end of the bed.
"Aren't you coming over?" Seokjin questioned.
"I have another idea," Namjoon's eyes grew dark, "Can you strip for me? Maybe get yourself ready on your own? I want to see all of you."
Seokjin licked his lips instinctually, growing a bit bashful. His cheeks grew baby pink.
"Sure." He bit his lip before using both arms to swiftly pull his T shirt up and over his head. As a result, his hair ruffled cutely. Then he shuffled his legs out of his skinny jeans with a lot more grace than Namjoon could have ever done.
If it had been Namjoon in those jeans, he would've taken centuries to remove them and the mood would've disappeared in no time. But Seokjin was experienced, and his skin was smooth, and his muscles were lean, and he looked soft, and the light blush on his chest and face was starting to make Namjoon feel a little dizzy.
"Is this okay?" Seokjin asked. When most of his clothing was stripped off, all he was left in were his grey Calvin Klein briefs. The white elastic hugged his hips nicely, and the tight fabric did wonders for Namjoon.
"Shit you're sexy." Namjoon confessed, observing how much Seokjin resembled a model with his perfect features. From his thick eyebrows, full lips, and well-toned body, Namjoon had nothing but compliments to give.
Seokjin blushed madly at Namjoon's bluntness.
"You are quite the sight over there too. You need less clothes though. I have a feeling you'd look even better without them." | a97461f1da69483b933b1a8aa3c70cd5 | ['3bee1508b348452290365182e9497861'] | Right away Namjoon could see Seokjin's cock pressed hard against the front of his sweatpants. Namjoon's mouth watered instinctively. Without his consent, Namjoon's hand reached forward to brush his palm over the bulge. What he received in response set his loins ablaze. Seokjin's hips flinched upward into his open hand and the older boy's lips parted to release a loud, breathy "uuhgh". Before he could stop himself (not that he would even with his reason intact), Namjoon pressed into Seokjin, cupping the boy's manhood and rubbing up and down along his length. Seokjin's breathing grew rapid then. His hips rolled in time with Namjoon's hand as bead of sweat dripped down his elongated neck.
Namjoon was so hot. His hairline turned damp with sweat and his palms were becoming clammy. All he could hear was the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the beautiful noises escaping Seokjin's mouth. His attention remained glued to his friend's body, becoming engulfed in his heat and his desire.
"A-ah ah," Seokjin panted as Namjoon continued to massage him. Suddenly, Seokjin's face scrunched up as his fingers reached around searching for a place to grab onto. His hands grasped tightly onto the couch cushions below him and he choked out a loud, sensual moan. The noise echoed throughout the dark room. It sounded so loud. Too loud. Too awake.
Seokjin was awake.
As the moan died out, Seokjin's eyes flung open and his chest heaved in a panic. He immediately got up into a sitting position whipping his head around, his eyes wide. Namjoon's mouth grew dry as he tried to calm his pounding heart.
What just happened? Did Namjoon just jerk off his best friend when he was asleep? What the hell!?
Seokjin met Namjoon's eyes. He took one look at the younger boy's face and glanced downward. He recognized the undeniable wet feeling of his underwear sticking to his inner thighs.
What. The. Fuck.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This officially marks my first attempt at writing fanfiction :D I'm apprehensive over whether I wrote well or created the images I wanted to. Any feedback is great!
>
> I'm not sure if I'll continue this story (I lied) haha. I didn't realize how much time it takes to write one work.
>
> Anyhow, I really hope you enjoyed! Namjin FTW
2. What's Another Word For Cute?
Seokjin sighed into his mug of coffee. It was no longer worth drinking. The milk foam on top had melted into a sad liquid puddle into the depths of his creamy cappuccino. The buzz of the early morning crowd on their blinding laptops and whispering into the speakers of their phones, all sounded like mere background noise.
Class was in five minutes.
He heaved another heavy sigh, bent slowly forward onto his arm, and wedged his face into the inside of his elbow.
The days were long and time was almost tangible. So thick and suffocating Seokjin had no way to escape. There was no fast forwarding time, much to his dismay.
He had class in four minutes now and it was at least a ten minute walk across campus. Maybe if he had brought a bike to school like most students he would get there on time, but being a nature enthusiast, he had refused to bring his old road bike from home. Though it would've been faster to bike, walking gives one more time to enjoy their surroundings. By walking one can observe the sunlight trickling through tree branches, leaves rustling against the sidewalk, squirrels darting every which way, and feel a connection with the outdoors.
Seokjin was regretting not bringing that bike. Nothing seemed worse than making that ten minute walk to his Scene Study and Technique class. The outside was a living hell. Too much purity and innocence. Everything felt tainted now, and seeing other people was out of the question. Just yesterday Seokjin had been in his improv class, one he usually excelled in, but when his turn came he blanked. His classmates stood in their positions, expectant. They believed he was just pausing for dramatic effect, something not out of the ordinary. But he was so far gone. Nothing creative was coming to his mind. He grew frustrated that the one thing he loved, acting, was now becoming nearly impossible to do.There was no inspiration coming to him. Not to mention the final for the class was in less than three weeks. To make it short, he burst into tears and flung a chair...or two. Afterward he was dismissed from class and told to only come back when he was ready.
Of course no one knew what in the world was wrong with him. The old Seokjin was always happy, creative, lively, and optimistic. No one knew how to react when he was now throwing temper tantrums in the middle of class or staring with glazed eyes, not saying a word, at a distant wall.
Seokjin reluctantly heaved himself off the chair he had been stewing on for about an hour. He trudged out of the coffee shop, leaving the door to chime shut behind him.
His coffee cup stood abandoned on the table, cold and untouched.
-~~~~-
He ended up skipping class and headed for the local town arcade. The nice thing about his university was that it was very much a college town. Not in a sense that there were parties down every street, but more like all the shops and stores were catered toward college students. One of the best places to be was the Boom Boom Arcade, appropriately named for its booming dub step music and flashy computer games. At this time, when Seokjin's thoughts refused to be tamed, it was the place to be. |
81f63961cfe44ccfa8b7e8a93102270b | ['3c0174e6266b4e1ebf32cee24db61b93'] | When the door shut Keith cast a repelling spell over the whole house and his greenhouse. No more interruptions today, not when Shiro was still shaking on the ground.
“Oh, sweet,” Keith said, hunching over Shiro to hold his head. “It’s all right, this is normal. I mean, I know it isn’t normal, but this is part of you. It’s okay. Just breathe. I’m here.”
Shiro trembled for another hour or so, Keith trying to hold and calm him through it. When the shaking finally subsided Shiro tried to get his feet under him. It took a couple of attempts but he got there. Standing now Keith could see how big he still was. His shoulder was on level with Keith’s hip.
“Well, you’re a handsome wolf, so there’s that at least.”
Shiro snorted in clear displeasure.
“Look this is… unpleasant and really unwanted but you’ll be all right.” Keith sighed and fiddled with Shiro’s ear until Shiro flicked it away. “I know you don’t really actually know me, not more than today. The fact that I’ve had dreams about you doesn’t mean much to you. I know that too. But please trust me when I say that this is all right. You’re going to be okay, and this will… well it’s the first step to making sure that you’ll be able to live successfully on your own in this world.”
Shiro huffed, but he butted his head against Keith’s stomach and submitted to some very affectionate pets and scratches, so Keith had to think it was all right. For now.
Shiro ended up eating the steak that Keith cooked, and a bit of baked potato. Keith wasn’t sure what to feed a wolf beyond meat, and was going to leave it at that but Shiro had whined at the sight of the potato so Keith had let that go as well. It wasn’t his usual dinner either (that was normally cereal and tea… when he remembered to eat at all). After what might have been the first decent meal Keith had eaten in a month he curled up with an old tome on his couch, journal in hand for notes. Shiro curled on the other end, napping or rubbing up against Keith’s legs until they were both sleepy.
Keith got up first, stretching, joints popping and making Shiro more alert. He perked up and watched Keith put away his book, journal, and tea mug.
“Time for bed I think,” Keith said. He went up the stairs, Shiro following behind him.
Keith stripped out of his shirt and pants, leaving on a pair of boxers only. He’d never been shy about his body, and even if it did send a weird thrill through him, he wasn’t going to start being now.
He happily crawled into bed and it wasn’t until he heard award shuffling on paws that it clicked.
“You can sleep up here, with me, if you want,” he said into the darkness. The weight on the bed shifted instantly, as if Shiro had bounded up onto the bed in one go. He might have.
Keith reached forward and found Shiro’s back. He trailed his hand to his head and cupped it again, rubbing over one soft ear.
“Sleep, it’ll be better in the morning. I promise.”
The next morning was bacon and a long walk around the city, Shiro glamoured as a very large husky. He was nervous at first, that much was clear, but as the day wore on he was happily bouncing around and getting affection from curious strangers.
When they went home Shiro followed Keith to the greenhouse and padded after him as he took care of the plants and made tinctures and potions. Keith found he actually liked the company. Shiro didn’t ask many questions, only making a low whine, or putting a paw up on Keith’s leg when he wanted to know what was going on. Keith was happy to explain.
Shiro wandered the greenhouse too, taking the admittedly large place in. Keith knew his plants wouldn’t do anything to Shiro. And for those that might, was too big to catch and eat, so it wasn’t an issue. Keith did hear him growl at one, and the plant hissed back in what sounded like fear. Keith was oddly proud of that moment.
That night Keith cooked again, chicken, and Shiro ate it all up, even the baked carrots which Keith was not at all happy with. When the dishes were finished they settled on the couch again. At least Keith tried to, but Shiro kept getting up and down off the couch and whining.
“What is it?” Keith asked, putting his book down. Shiro padded away to the bookshelf and nosed at a copy Keith and of _Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy_.
“Really?” Keith pulled the book off the shelf. He’d gotten it at a used book store when he was buying an old spell book. The spell book was marketed as a spell book, but on the outside it looked like one of those gimmick books for teenagers that thought they were true Wiccan practitioners. It was a practical disguise. Keith had bout the copy of _Hitchhikers_ with it, making it look like just a young goth kid purchasing nerd stuff. He’d actually never gotten around to reading the book itself.
He pulled it down from the shelf and went back to the couch with it. It took a lot of propping, and some delicate paw and nail work for page turning, but they got Shiro set up. Keith tucked his toes under Shiro’s back legs for warmth and there they stayed until they were both sleepy again and curled together in bed. | e179c987c4374e59a138202733c74134 | ['3c0174e6266b4e1ebf32cee24db61b93'] | He was absolutely still tired then. Shiro could see the bruise on his shoulder too, just poking out of his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll pick it up. Want me to swing by my grandma’s and get that ointment she makes for aches? Might ease the pain a little.”
“Yeah, sure,” Keith said. He face showed no hint of anything, just exhausted and a blank stare Shiro hadn’t ever seen before. He sat on the ground and started absently petting Yori.
“Your usual?” Shiro asked, wanting to pry it out of Keith, whatever this was, but he knew that would backfire spectacularly.
“Yeah.”
Keith kept petting Yori and Shiro felt like he was being dragged away by a riptide. Disoriented and out of control.
He almost talked himself out of going to get the food, not wanting to leave Keith alone when he was acting so despondent. But maybe being out of the house for a bit would clear his head and give Keith space.
There was still time before the food would be ready—Hunk would text him when it was done—so he went to his grandmother’s first. The shop would just be closing up, James, the assistant Shiro insisted that she hire, probably gone for the night. It was good to see her doing so well despite the scare a few years back. She had almost all functionality back, save some weakness in her right side, and occasionally forgetting a word in one language or another. But that could have also been down to her age as well.
“Taka-kun!” She called brightly when she saw him duck in. She was putting a dustpan away behind the counter. “I didn’t think I’d see you today— _Ara! Nani sono kao? Doushita no_?”
“It’s nothing Obaachan, Keith just got hurt the other day when he was sparring with his uncles. You have any of that balm you make for sore muscles? I think it might help the bruise.” He did his best to pull some happiness into his face before she caught on. He should have known better.
“ _Kenka ka?”_
_“_ Yeah, some weird yearly thing with his uncles.”
“I mean you and him, Taka-kun.”
“I don’t know,” he leaned against the counter. “One of his uncles went to the hospital last night—he won’t say more than that. I wasn’t home and ended up home _late_ so he was freaking out and he’s just been… down. All day.”
She hummed and went upstairs to get the balm. Shiro examined some heliotrope on the counter. _Devotion and love_. He wondered if he could plant some around the house, how it’d do. He’d surround Keith with it if he could.
His grandmother came back down. She took one look at him and shook her head. “ _Ano ko wa Taka-kun daisuki yo. Shinpai nanka iranai._ ”
_“_ I know, I’m not worried if he still loves me or not, I’m just worried about him. How do you think heliotrope would do at the house?”
The rest of the night was just as subdued as the day had been. Shiro had grabbed them a six pack on the way home. Keith had given him a weird look when he grabbed a second beer after his first with dinner. Shiro had shrugged, it wasn’t like it was strange for him to get another.
“It’s been a rough day.” He held the open beer out to Keith and Keith had taken it. Shiro had gone back to grab one for himself now that Keith had his. The one in Keith’s hand though, he realized later that night when he was cleaning, never got drunken.
Keith had crawled into bed and fallen asleep long before Shiro, Yori curled around his legs. Shiro stayed up and watched him, looked at the long lines of his face. The thick chorded muscles along his arms and back. The bruise he’d so, so carefully soothed balm into while Keith held a brave face. The scar that ran up his jaw to his cheek. Unruly hair. Soft lips, even if they only stayed like that because Shiro strong armed him into a skincare routine.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he whispered and curled around Keith.
Tomorrow was not better.
Shiro was at the club working with Sal, which he decided to get through by slowly sipping on whiskey all day. Then, when he was up to dance, the out of town business group was back and it was a repeat of the other night. This time though, one shot down and outside during a five minute break, he called Keith to see if he wanted to come up and drive him home. They could get the Jeep the next day when Shiro just had the bar.
When he said it, only tipsy, not even halfway to plastered, it had sounded reasonable in his head.
Keith had exploded. “So yer tellin’ me, that you’ve been drinking all day a work, and now you’re going to get fuckin’ wasted with these clients again because? You need the release?”
Shiro frowned. “No, but it is more fun for everyone if I—“
“Whatever. Your vices. Have a fucking blast. When do you get off? Two in the fuckin’ morning again?”
“Keith!”
“Just text me when they leave and you’re ready. Don’t let your fuckin’ phone die this time.”
The line went dead and Shiro stared at it in shock. Well, his not so sober self reasoned, if Keith was going to fly off the handle like that, there was no reason to not get tanked. He marched back into the club, sat down on the boss lady or whatever that was leading this group, took a shot of her drink—rum and coke, fantastic—and ripped his shirt off.
“Ya’ll ready to get wild?” He asked thrusting his hips and bending over backwards to look at the rest of the table. They all started shouted and one called for another round with extra shots. |
eabd2a549a2d4ed3b361f5e84ac35676 | ['3c0c9e5b2c7b4f3d96cd221bf692a5b9'] | Let Me Be Your Guardian Angel
**Author's Note:**
> I own nothing except Aria and Jenna, who aren't in this chapter. It is rather short, but please enjoy.
Castiel turned, right, left, then right again. He had been running hard, and needed a break. His mind flashed over the events that lead him up to this moment. It had started at the hotel room...
"Sam! Why's there no beer in the fridge?" Sam gave Dean a pointed look. "We're on a job. Which means, not the time for a beer. Ok?" Dean looked witheringly at Sam. "There's always time for beer." All of a sudden, there were three loud knocks on the door. Dean stuck his tongue out at Sam, then opened the door. "I assume you found a case?" Cas intoned. Dean nodded, then opened the door a little wider to let Cas in. He walked in and sat down and asked, "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me what you found?"
"Duh. Sammy?" Sam sighed, then started to read off facts from his laptop. "Well, it looks like a werewolf attack. Random people go out at night, don't come back. Although, the only 'random people' who are taken are teens." Cas nodded silently. "I'll look into it. Is there anything else?" Dean and Sam shook their heads. Cas nodded again and disappeared.
About 3 hours later, Cas reappeared in the hotel room. Dean jumped slightly, and Sam grinned. "I found the nest." Dean and Sam looked at each other. "Well, the hunts on. Come on, Sammy." Sam closed his laptop and went out to the car. Cas pulled a map out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "These are the coordinates. See you there." And with a flutter of wings, he was gone.
And that's where he is now. Stuck in a werewolf cave, covered in blood, not knowing whether Dean or Sam are alive. He looked around, trying to find an exit, when he sees two large yellow eyes fixed on him, and Cas knows without a doubt, he's going to die. He only wished he could tell Dean and Sam how sorry he was. Too late.
**Author's Note:**
> Ok, this is my first story on here, yay! I hope you like it, and remember to review, cuz if I don't get reviews I won't know if I'm absolutely boring or if you actually like my stories. :) sorry it's so short. | bea7edb6a4d84e7e9407cd2bc39d3489 | ['3c0c9e5b2c7b4f3d96cd221bf692a5b9'] |
1. Chapter 1
Coraline Hart is a bright 15 year old girl. If you saw her on the street, you wouldn't think much. She has ice blue eyes, red and brown messy hair, and freckles that dominate her face. She's about 5'10 and loves to sing, draw, paint, play piano, read, you name it. And she... Is me. I live in a tiny little town called Midlothian, in Texas. It's a real cute little town, lot of friendly people. Not much monster stuff goes on here. Well... Except for that one time...
I was getting ready for school, listening to Old Time Rock 'n Roll by Bob Seger, when I got this... Feeling. Cold, as if something was coming. I shrugged it off. Nerves, I thought. I had a big Latin test that day, so I figured, sure, that's it. Nothing weird, nothing supernatural. Anyway, I ran down the stairs, jumping the last two, saying a hurried goodbye to my mom, and running out the door. I got to school, blah, blah, blah. But, the interesting part was later that night. I was having a friend over, not to spend the night, just to hang out, and she and I had a great time, until she asked me the strangest question. "Hey, Cora? Do you be believe in... Ghosts and stuff?" Gulp. "Uh, I dunno. Why? Do you believe in that stuff, Melanie?" She shook her head, but I could see in her eyes that something was going on. She went home later with the same look. I started getting worried. I put salt lines on my windows and my closet. I drew a devil's trap that could only be seen in black light, and I made sure my exorcising spells were right where I needed them. Only problem was, I didn't need any of that. With my first dad, he hunted demons. Just demons. He taught me all about them, and he never let me forget any of it. So I was totally unprepared for what happened next.
The next day was a Saturday, so I slept a little later than normal. When I walked down the stairs, jammin' to Highway To Hell, I saw my mom crying, and I instantly knew: Melanie was gone. I went to her house to comfort her mom, but it didn't really help. When I got home, I knew this wasn't demons. I would need help. I reached into my top dresser drawer and pulled out my dads old journal. He had a list of contacts, and beside them was how good he thought they were. I typed the first one that popped out, Bobby Singer. A young voice answered, "Hello?" I stuttered, "Is... Is this Bobby Singer?" "Um... He's dead. Sorry." My face fell. "Oh. Well, thanks. Bye." I hung up and tried another. John Winchester. The same voice answered. "Um, is this John Winchester?" "He's dead, too." I groaned in frustration. "But this is his son, Dean." I sat up. "Can you help me? I have a... Hunting problem." I was cautious, cuz sometimes hunters kids didn't always follow their parents proffession. "Yeah, monster?" "Yes! I don't know what this is, but I wanna gank it fast." She heard Dean talk to someone, then say, "Where are you?" I smiled. "Midlothian, Texas."
"We'll be there soon. Tomorrow. See you then." I hung up and jumped up and down. For once in three years, I wouldn't be alone on a hunt.
2. Backstories.
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Cora meets up with Sam and Dean To start the hunt. But, when Dean goes out for a drink, Cora opens up to Sam, something she wasn't expecting. And she finds and unlikely friend in the younger Winchester boy.
I ran down the stairs the second I heard the doorbell, me being the only one home and not wanting anyone to see my new friends. I flung the door open and saw two guys standing there, in suits. I stood there awkwardly, then said, "Oh. Right. Come in." They nodded and stepped in. I led the way to the living room where they sat down, then I asked, "Want anything?" "Beer." The shorter one answered. I recognized his voice and realized I had talked to him on the phone. "Uhm... We don't have any." He looked disappointed, and replied, "Never mind. I'm Dean and this is Sam. Winchester." I nodded and shook their hands. "Cora. Coraline Hart." Sam looked confused and glanced at a piece of paper on his hand. "Wait. Your parents last name is Karenne." I looked down. This is the hard part, because I dont like people pitying me. "I'm, um. Adopted. I kept my favorite dad's name." They nodded. "Ok." Said Dean. "So, you don't know what it is. We looked and it looks like vamps. You know, how come you didn't know?" I looked down, embarassed by my lack of knowledge. "I... My dad dot hunt vamps. Only demons." "Why?" Sam looked sympathetic and extremely sad. "It's just..." I stopped, not actually knowing my dad's reason for nothing but demons. "Well," Dean said, "Got a good bar near here?" I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. "Uh, yeah." I gave him directions, then he and Sam went to the front hall and I heard them arguing quietly. When the arguing stopped I peeked into the front hall, and I saw two. Grown. Men. Doing rock paper scissors. Seriously. Dean obviously won, smiling and walked out the door. Sam watched him go then turned to me. "I'm staying, just in case the vamps come back for you." I nodded. "I'm gonna go to my room for a bit. I'll yell if I need you." He nodded. I went up to my room and sat on my bed, staring at my hands. I picked up the photo of my dad on my nightstand. It was a picture of the tome he taught me how to shoot. Looking at the picture, my mind took a trip down memory lane.
"A little higher, C." Cora looked up at her dad with big, ten year old eyes. He smiled confidently at her. "You can do it. Come on." Cora nodded, a now determined look on her face. She raised the gun to her shoulder, aimed, and fired. The kick jolted her shoulder and almost knocked her down, had her dad not been there. She looked up at him again and he smiled widely. Then she smiled and they shared a laugh.
I snapped back to the present at the knock on my door. "Come in." Sam poked his head around the door. "I just... Wanted to talk to you. Get to know you." I was shocked. Not many people got close to me. They thought something was... Off about me. And they're all right. "Um, ok. What do you want to know?" Sam shrugged and sat down. "Ok..." I thought back. "My dad adopted me when I was ten. I don't remember before that. But my dad was looking for a kid to help hunt. At first, he tried boys. But they... Didn't work out. Then he tried two other girls before me. But, I, for some reason, knew about monsters and stuff, so he picked me. About 3 months later, he taught me to shoot. About 2 years after he was killed." My voice caught a little when I said that. I watched him die and be ripped apart right in front of me. Sam looked sadder than ever. "I'm so sorry. I lost my girlfriend, Jess, to a demon. The same demon that killed my mom." I looked at him in shock. My dad had been killed by demons. "Sam, I... I'm sorry, too." Just then I heard a noise downstairs. My mom was home.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Second chapter, whoo!!! ^_^ I hope you like it. Cora develops a better friendship with Sam, just because she's more like him, but like her dad, she does have a profound bond with Dean. :P
**Author's Note:**
> Thank you so much for reading!!! I haven't seen S9 yet, so my season begins at the end of S8. This story will have about 2 or 3 "seasons" at least. Please tell me what you think! |
03b13e72820c4e918fc7bb99cd83914f | ['3c15cb4249004bf0806f4e9c854801fa'] | "Let's get some drinks in the kitchen," Alice parts the crowd with ease and leads you directly to the kitchen where there are significantly less people. Alice quickly grabs you a drink and slides it into your free hand, "Make sure to keep an eye on your drink, okay?" Alice stares at your face to make sure you've heard her clearly before turning to mix her own drink.
Someone calls out Alice's name from across the room and she hesitantly separates herself from you with the promise to return as quickly as possible. Of course, the vultures notice that your date is no longer with you and descend to bully you.
"God what is that outfit you're wearing? It looks like something they'd use to bury my grandmother in," one of the guys shoves forward making you spill your drink all over your shoes and part of your dress. The crowd around you find that absolutely hilarious and cruel laughter starts to engulf you along with even more insults about you.
Suddenly it goes extremely quiet. Alice slams through the crowd of teenagers and glares up at everyone. They quickly turn away as though she slapped all of them at once. She turns to you and her gaze quickly softens,
"Are you okay Bridget?" She reaches out and pulls you into her arms. She starts leading you out of the door but stops to stare at the guy who made you spill her drink,
"If you do anything to hurt her again I'll make sure you regret it. Tell that to your shitty 'friends.'" She keeps her arms firmly around you all the way to the car and helps you slide inside.
The car ride is mostly silent save for your quiet breathing. You turn your head to observe her, her soft lips draw your gaze first then her nicely styled short black hair. You frown noticing her brows are furrowed in frustration,
"Alice," her quiet hum is your only answer, "You okay?" That question makes her head turn. You lock eyes with her and you instantly become worried seeing the tsunami of emotions there,
"I shouldn't have left you, I should have stayed with then those assholes wouldn't have ruined our time at the party." Her words make your own brows furrow,
"Alice it's okay, what you said to that asshole somehow made that worth it. I don't think they're going to bother me after tonight. I really don't." You reach out to slide your hand into hers hoping to calm her down. You can see that she's still pretty tense,
"Turn here please," Alice turns back to the road and turns into the abandoned parking lot of an old drive in,
"Uhm, I don't think we can really do anything here..."
"I know, I was just thinking we could hang out in the car and talk, maybe roll the windows down and enjoy the breeze. I totally understand if you would rather go home though." You nervously ramble hoping she doesn't think this is a totally stupid idea,
"Okay, sounds good." She turns the engine off and turns completely in her seat. She slides her shoes off and rests her elbows on the console in between the two of you and places her chin in her hands. She smiles up at you like an angel,
"What do you want to talk about?" She asks, her gold eyes filled with amusement,
"Anything." | 245ddb474090447395f78801733e5491 | ['3c15cb4249004bf0806f4e9c854801fa'] |
Sleepover
**Author's Note:**
> A non creative story that's slightly inspired by Hayley Kiyoko's Sleepover. Hope you enjoy!
I gently knock on the front door while nibbling on my bottom lip, it feels like my stomach is about to sink through me to the ground. I shuffle my feet about to turn around and run home feeling like this was a total mistake when the door is thrown open. I stopped dead in my tracks and stare wide eyed at Alex like an owl,
"Hey Charlie!!" Suddenly her arms around me and her lavender perfume is surrounding me. It takes me a second to wrap my arms around her but when I do I never want to let go. Eventually though the hug comes to an end and I almost fall over,
"Hey Alex, sorry I took so long to get here. My mom was bothering me about where I was going, wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying so I could sneak off with some boys." I roll my eyes just thinking about that, that idea would never have crossed my mind. Not with the prospect of having a sleepover with Alex.... of course there is going to be other girls there; Luna, Sandra and Max, but they're cool. Hopefully.
"So has everyone else already gotten here?" I ask stepping into Alex's warm house,
"Not yet, Luna and Max are still picking up food and Sandra is having the same problem you did." I nod feeling like my heart is about to beat out of my chest with how nervous I am. I sit down nervously on the couch and clasp my hands in my lap,
"hey are you okay? It looks like you're about to die from how nervous you are," I look at Alex with wide eyes, shocked that she noticed, "Oh come on! Don't look at me like that, we've known each other since the fourth grade. I can read you like a book," I stiffen a little more when she wraps her arm around my shoulders. I instantly notice the hurt look on her face and I shake my head quickly when she goes to pull away,
"Hey, hey! I'm fine, I promise. Just having that argument with my mom really shook me up, you know?" My cheeks heat up when I see her adorable smile start to make an appearance,
"If anything else is bothering you please don't be scared to tell me." I nod quickly, feeling only slightly bad for lying. If I ever told her about my feelings I know she wouldn't want to be my friend, she'd think I'm some predatory lesbian who's been creeping on her years. I stare at her face for a bit longer than a straight friend would and jolt when there's a loud knock on the door. I quickly look away from her and stare blankly at the turned off TV,
"Yeah Charlie is already here so the sleepover can actually start!" I press my nails into my palms and force myself to stand up, please don't look like a weirdo tonight; Alex barely got Max and Luna to agree to come to this thing and I don't want to ruin it for her,
"Hey you guys," I step forward to hug Max and I frown feeling her tense up. I pull away to give her a reassuring smile but that doesn't seem to help with her mood. I take a step back figuring Luna would have the same reaction. I quickly head back into the living room feeling like I might get choked by the awkward silence.
I throw myself back onto the couch and turn on the TV so I can pretend I don't hear the whispered fight happening in the other room.
"Alright you guys need to stop being assholes," I flinch and look up hearing 3 sets of feet walking into the room, well fuck it doesn't seem to matter what I do they're still going to treat me like a weirdo.
Alex thankfully sits down next to me on the couch while the other two sit down on the loveseat across the room. I look at Alex out of the corner of my eye and relax marginally when I see her smile at me, the room momentarily melts away and for a second I don't give a shit what Max and Luna think of me. Until they're loud voices call out to Alex breaking me out of my revere,
"So, are we all just going to sit here and watch TV or do something fun?" I frown wondering what they're definition of fun is,
"Absolutely, I've got pizza already ordered so we can play some games if you guys want," I shrug feeling weird for instantly thinking spin the bottle; Jesus like I'd actually want to kiss either Luna or Max.... I would totally want to kiss Alex,
"So, uh what should we play?" My voice comes out shaky and it feels like Max is about to glare daggers into me,
"We could play truth or dare?"
"Genius idea Alex, who should go first?" I sink further into my seat worried about what they might have me do or worse tell me to admit something,
"Maybe Charlotte should go then Alex then Max then me?" My jaw slackens and I stare at Luna with wide eyes, I should have expected this,
"Okay! Charlotte truth or dare?" I gulp and stare down at the ground wondering which will be less awful,
"Uhh dare," I barely stop my voice from shaking, |
ac08ea1839de4246befa1cf3e57b2b06 | ['3c6a177981c44382bffac19eccadab33'] | Starting up the engine, you rolled out, playing the radio loudly all the way to your hotel. You knew depression was setting in deep inside, but it had never really left. Your footsteps were heavy and leaden as you walked through the average lobby and took the elevator up to your room. The work phone in your pocket was overflowing with messages pressing you to end your interrogation, get Lee into the justice system, relinquish him to the courts, but you weren’t ready yet. Not yet. You still had things to do.
Once in the safety of your room, you poured yourself a glass to scotch and sat down with the papers, thumbing through for the precise date. There wasn’t enough energy in you to read the rest. Maybe later, when you were ready for the nightmares and tears that followed. Because, lately you had been crying a lot over these journals, considering breaking into forensics to burn them. Were they real? Were they false? You didn’t know. Couldn’t be bothered to care.
Sitting back, you found the right entry and prepared to read.
June 24th, December 1998
First kill today. Aside from Jamie. I didn’t want to drag it out. Papa hit me for it, but I guess I deserved that. Mum just stared at me and said nothing. I think she was disgusted in me for doing it. I don’t care. It’s not like I had a choice.
I just don’t care.
I managed to get the blood off, but Papa said I will have longer punishment later. He told me to clean up and present myself, but I have a few minutes to get it done.
There will be a party later. I think everyone else will approve. Only Papa can tell why I did it the way I did. And he won’t say anything. Everyone has high hopes for me. He doesn’t want me to be the embarrassment.
Guess I’ll just put on my smile and go then. Papa won’t punish so there’s marks. I know he won’t. I trust him.
I trust him.
The words rang over and over in your head. As usual, your gut twisted.
I trust him.
James had made his own child kill a man and then punished him for not dragging it out. Lee had been ten. And he trusted him still, despite the bitterness ringing in the piece.
This couldn’t possibly be real. This was all just a big lie. It had to be. An elaborate hoax. Maybe you were hallucinating. Maybe you were in a coma from when you had fell off the barn roof when you were eighteen and hit your head.
This had to all be a result of that.
It was beginning to occur to you that Lee was younger than you… No more than 27. He was a baby. Did he even know how a normal family worked, what Christmas was like, how to build a house or put a baby to sleep?
Did he know any of that?
You set the stack of papers down and turned your face aside to stare at the wall. Dimly, you remembered reading a short story in school called The Yellow Wallpaper. You knew how that woman felt now. The need to rip everything down because everything had a double meaning now. You knew what it felt to be caged.
Did Lee still feel caged, you wondered. Did he still feel locked away from the world, living in an eternal cycle of death?
But you couldn’t ask him those questions. He would only twist them around and manipulate you. Or give you the truth through ridiculous riddles.
**You needed more to drink.**
5. 2000
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> The jungle wasn't that bad, but you don't know why you feel so terrible.
You sat in silence. Lee had given you the location of a jungle in the middle of nowhere.
You were running out of leeway with your superiors and it was weighing on you. All of this investigating was costing a lot of time and money, time that could have been spent putting Lee behind bars.
At least you had the referral of several psychologists, who were all insisting that this was necessary and Lee could not be tried based on shady evidence. If Lee was to go through trial, all things would have to be taken into consideration, not just his deeds.
And now you had this little journal. It didn’t make much sense. There was nothing too immensely violent in it. Just Lee learning how to work in an environment that wasn’t urban. Once more, you read over the pages.
March 10th, 2000.
I’ve been here for several days and only just made it back to camp.
But you already knew that, whoever you are.
I’m tired.
Dad had a friend waiting to meet me at camp, which was strange. I didn’t know Dad had friends.
His name is Sam and I don’t trust his smile.
Dad has been working with me on my off switch. I’m coming along. Slowly. I think Dad is losing his patience. He says stubbornness is a good trait, but if my subconscious can’t trust him to know what’s good for me, what am I doing?
I’m not allowed to write down the location of the off switch. Just in case. People already know what I do, what I am, but off switches are a closely guarded secret. Or something like that. I don’t know.
Sam is staring at me again. I wish he’d stop, but I can’t tell him off. He saw Dad and I while we were working on my switch.
He makes my skin crawl.
I don’t like it.
I have to go.
You didn’t know which to be more confused about. This was mystery. Who was Sam? And what was an off switch?
Did Lee have a spot on his body that made him turn off when he was fighting? | 5a90aca63c1343149a678dd7ba10a7bc | ['3c6a177981c44382bffac19eccadab33'] | > My apologies for taking so long. Since the last update, I got shipped to boot camp, had a mental breakdown, got shipped home, ended up living with my mom because my parents got divorced while I was in the Army, lost all my college money, got kicked out of my dad's house into the rain because I'm hella gay and my dad is a hella homophobe, caught pneumonia, and basically just not had a good past few months. Also I got out of the fandom, but I am back, and I'm giving you guys a fucking gay as all hell story about angels that steal, so, here's a short chapter while I get back into the swing of things. More to follow.
True to his word, he was ready at 7, in his blue three-piece that Anna had practically wrestled him into. Gabe had picked him up in a dramatic flash. Of course the idiot had wanted to meet the family, but Balthy had chased him out before then. They weren’t at that point yet. He finally understood why Cas was so against introducing Dean to them all. They were a bunch of nut cases. Every last one belonged in Bedlam. Lucifer, the dear, was probably suffering from Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Sam probably had social anxiety, and Cas was, well, Cas.
“Balthazar,” Gabe said, snapping his fingers, bringing Balthy out of his spacing. “You with me?”
Balthy looked up at his concerned face and felt a huge surge in his chest. Here he was, at the top of his game, fresh off of the biggest heist of all time, with this beautiful man. This man with a bright laugh and sly pickpocket skills and candy and that fucking smile and those quirky eyebrows. There was a good chance that he could fall in love with this man and he didn’t even care. Tonight was their night and Balthy was determined to pound him into the mattress.
Trust Balthy to go from romantic to BDSM in 0.5 seconds flat.
“Sure I am,” he replied. “What were you saying, precious?”
The endearment just slipped out of his traitorous mouth and he instantly regretted it from the smug look on Gabe’s face.
“I was about to get mad at you for not listening to me, but, you know...”
Balthy blushed deep red.
“Shut up.”
“Make me,” Gabe teased and Balthy felt a surge of confidence.
“Wait till we get back to your apartment and I just might.”
Gabe’s eyes widened and he blurted, “I have chocolate sauce.”
Balthy started laughing hard in the middle of the restaurant.
“You take your sweet tooth into the bedroom?” he gasped.
“Shut up!” Gabe hissed.
Balthy held his stomach and tried to contain the laughter as people stared.
“That’s okay,” he coughed out. “I’m not judging. I’m really not I swear.”
“You’re judging. You are totally judging me. I can feel the judgment vibes from across the table.” Gabe retorted, thoroughly miffed.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Balthy tilted his head at him as he got it together.
“And who’s to say that I don’t like chocolate?”
A slow smirk spread across Gabe’s face.
“Casa Nova, baby,” he said lowly and wiggled his eyebrows. “I call top.”
“You give me a chocolatey blow job and you can do anything you like,” Balthy replied as he leaned across the table and stole a bite of Gabe’s pasta.
“I can definitely give you a chocolatey blow job if you keep talking to me like that,” Gabe grinned and Balthy realized they were becoming one of those flirty couples. A couple. They were a couple.
“Are we, like, a thing?” he asked as he sucked a noodle into his mouth and returned to his steak.
“A thing?” Gabe repeated as he continued to eat his pasta, not minding that Balthy was subtly stealing from him.
“Like… Boyfriends thing.”
“Damn straight you’re my fine ass boyfriend with a sexy British accent,” he replied confidently. “Although please do not change your mannerisms just because we’re a thing. I hate it when people change when they put a label on it.”
“We’ll just settle with I’m yours and you’re mine.” Balthy grinned. “Now, about that blowjob…”
⇢
Cas had fucked up so badly and he knew it. He rushed through his apartment, grabbing essentials and stuffing them into a bag with one hand while he texted his brothers with the other on his burn phone.
We’re compromised DAR he texted horribly, tripping over his shoelaces as he smashed his laptop and phone to bits, doused them with lighter fluid, and dropped a match in the sink just to be sure. It went up with a whoosh that ripped his heart out of his chest, knowing he had just severed his last connection with Dean, and he ran out of the apartment, trying not to cry.
The hacker had been too good.
He should’ve told Dean.
He should not have lied.
He might have just lost the love of his life.
⇢
Luci woke up the urgent text, whining from his chafing, and his eyes widened. He threw his blankets aside and pulled up his pants. He turned to the two half naked girls in his bed and gave them a sunny smile.
“Ladies, I am so sorry, but work just called, and you need to leave now. Rhonda, keep those hips sinful I like it. Jessica, your lips are heavenly in the filthiest way possible. Now out, out.” He shooed them out of his bed and apartment and shut the door behind them. Quickly, he started to shove his things into a bag as he sent a group text.
Switch to encrypted phones, he ordered and ran out the door. Cas, you are telling me everything that happened.
⇢ |
d96a8dea4ea04cb4b5d05d8935ee2912 | ['3c858b48d1b14ba597f9e0dcfb02a1b4'] | The world around him and his People fell apart. Initially, he believed the sight to be bloody, and everything would ensue in to chaos, but that was not the case.
The sky disintegrated from blue into a series of vibrant colours, everyone on the battlefield slowly ceased their fighting; stopping to stare up as the world began mending. War cries stopped, Some resigned themselves in defeat taking comfort that the world around them was the last they would ever see. Others rejoiced.
Solas did not care. He won.
But he didn’t care for that either.
He simply stared at his vhenan, his Lavellan on her knees looking up at the sky, mesmerized. The vivid coloured sky reflected against her eyes. Bloodied, and all- the New World was bland in comparison.
Then the voices came. The groans, the screams, the shrieks of pain of all those who were not connected to the Fade. Soon, bodies around him fell clutching their heads crying out until they gradually died. Solas vaguely heard Dorian horrified cry for Iron Bull as he assumed the Iron Bull succumbed to his fate.
He slowly walked to his Lavellan. She was already on her knees, clutching her head, groaning, unaware of him. Solas hastily picked up his pace, and ran to her.
“Ma vhenan,” His voice shook as he reached her, just in time to catch her body as it nearly fell to the ground.
“Solas,” she grinded out through her teeth, “make it stop..”
“Ma Vhenan… “ He could not breathe. He thought she would be handle this, he knew she was a mortal but her spirit was strong. She was strong, stronger than him. Many others could survive the fall of the veil, it was possible- she could-
Suddenly, she was screaming. Solas gently took her right hand to comfort her, “vhenan… I”
“Solas, it hurts.” She cried. She clutched his hand so tightly, the metal gloves dug into her skin. He wished for all his armour to disappear. He wished he was wearing his woolen sweater, and his vhenan in her pajamas and they were-
“Please, you must survive this,” Solas knew she could not hear him.
She continued to sob as the pain seared through her body.
“No.. no no no no,” Solas choked out a sob, he pushed her hair back, caressing her, trying to give her some semblance of ease, “hold on, ma vhenan. Please, you will live. ”
But she couldn’t hear him, she continued let out a piercing cry.
An idea came to him, but he quickly discarded it. It would take too long. He needed a new plan. Solas just had to something, he just had to find a way, a new method, he needed time. A minute would do, no a few more seconds -
But, he didn't have time. Solas didn’t know what to do.
“No.. ma vhenan,’ he barely whispered. But she was suddenly so quiet, and Solas could not breathe. He heard his People screaming in triumph, celebrating, but he suddenly wanted them all dead instead. All of them dead in her place.
“Solas,” she breathed.
“Ma Vhenan, It’s alright. you’re alright. you’re alive.” He repeated, not knowing whether or not it was more for himself than her.
Her eyes were looking directly at him, she could see him, hear him. Tears freely fell from his eyes, as he caressed her hair back, holding her to him as close as he could.
“Everything hurts, Solas.” she gasped out, and his heart fell, “but I'm not scared.. please, don’t cry.”
Of course, in her last moments, she was comforting him. She was dying, and she made sure he was not hurt.
Throughout all of his journeys, all of the conflicts he encountered, the horrific actions he was forced to commit, the people he venomously fought- he hated it all. But in that moment, he truly had never despised anything more than himself.
He was disgusting; a beast killing everything it touches.
“Do not speak, vhenan.” He said to her, looking back only to see his healers heading their way towards him. Abelas was looking at him, looking no different from the time he last gazed at the Vir'abelasan.
“It’s okay, Solas.” She said, her hand reached up to touch his cheek, as if he was the most fragile person she ever laid eyes on, and with the greatest relief she whispered, “you’re not hurt..”
Those were the last words she ever said to him.
She exhaled her last breath, and Solas heard an unrecognizable cry. It took him a second to realize the source of the sound was him.
He should be happy, he heard his people calling to him to celebrate. Abelas’ voice was silent in their cheers. He knew Solas did not win.
With or without a veil, a world without his Lavellan is a world Solas never wanted to know, but it’s the one he created. It’s the world he deserves. It’s the world he despises.
**Author's Note:**
> follow me @ amaati.tumblr.com. LOL
>
> Hope you like it :). | f8a32b4ea955446b8b6a670d072fe506 | ['3c858b48d1b14ba597f9e0dcfb02a1b4'] | When Haru and Rin kissed again, it was Haru who made the first move. They were in their third year. Rin was talking to some tall guy at his school, black hair and beautiful turquoise eyes. Haru, who stood at the other side of the Samezuka pool, felt a burst of anger. For a second, Haru thought it was jealousy, but he quickly knew it wasn't. Haru was simply angry. At what? He didn't know.
They were in the change room, Rin was laughing at some joke he made, and Makoto quietly walked out of the room and it was just the two of them. Rin made another joke, and suddenly Haru wanted to wipe that smile off his face, even if it was through a kiss. Why? because how dare Rin-
"Haru! What the hell was that-"
"How does it feel?" He asked, his chest heaving. "You have someone, right?"
"Is this because I kissed-"
"I asked how it felt." Haru said, looking past Rin and into Rin's locker mirror. "To kiss someone, even though you have someone else."
Suddenly, Rin knew. Haru knew Rin knew. Rin swallowed to rid himself of the ache in his throat, but it wouldn't go away.
"Shut up."
Their relationship resumed, but as friends. They never mentioned their two kisses, but they remained friends.
Haru saw Rin with Sousuke more. Haru stole a glance at them, and felt relief. Rin cried a lot. He cried more around Haru, but with Sousuke, he always smiled. Crying was inevitable with Rin, but Sousuke brought a tender shine to Rin's tears.
When their last year was nearing its end, Haru, Makoto, Rei, and Nagisa decided to end of the year with Sobo. Nagisa, and Rei wandered off to play games, while Makoto and Haru went to a little souvenir vendor. There were small fortunes and scrolls based on zodiac signs, and Makoto liked his sign's quote, so naturally, he bought one for himself and one for Haru. Haru didn't bother reading his quote.
Haru's world tipped no more than thirty minutes after that. Makoto and Haru fought for the first time. And, when Haru ran away from Makoto that day after saying "do whatever you want." He meant it.
Makoto was allowed to do anything he wanted, it never occurred to Haru that it may have been Haru that was stopping him.
As he lay at night, he did not get a wink of sleep. He spent the entire night thinking about the places Makoto wanted to go, the sights he wanted to see, the people he wanted meet, but Makoto never got to do any of that.
Why? Because Haru did not want to any of those things, so why should Makoto?
Haru never felt so sick in his life, so Rin's knock at his door came the next morning followed by two tickets to Australia. He took the chance.
They never did anything intimate, despite sleeping on the same bed for two nights. Haru toured Australia, he saw the sights Makoto wanted to see, met people Makoto wanted to meet, and finally got a dream for himself.
When they came back to Iwatobi, Rin went straight to Sousuke, and Haru went to Makoto.
Over the course of their last few months of high school Haru smiled more. Makoto, and Haru went to parks, cafes, and all the places Makoto wanted to go. It seemed like Makoto, too, knew Haru's limit on going outside so he would not ask him that often.
On one of last few days of school, Haru was walking home with Makoto, Haru walked between Makoto and the ocean. He looked over at him to find Makoto looking back at him. For a moment, Haru thought he was looking at the ocean, which made Haru look over too.
"Haru, is everything okay?" Haru didn't know what Makoto was referring to and gazed away at the ocean for two more seconds before looking up at Makoto.
Haru inhaled softly, and felt calm. He ghosted his hands over Makoto's, and thought that maybe, it has always been this way. Haru just had been too scared to do anything about it.
He thought to himself that if Rin was his water, than Makoto would be his air.
"Yeah." Haru smiled "I'm okay."
He continued on with Makoto. Haru didn't know where this story truly began. Maybe, it started with Rin. Maybe, it started with Makoto, but then again with Makoto, Haru didn't know where to begin. The only part Haru was certain about was that
Somehow
It would always be Makoto.
**Author's Note:**
> The quote this story is based on:
>
> "The Buddhists say if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation."
>
> P.S That's what Haru's scroll said.
>
> P.S.S have any questions? ask me on amaati.tumblr.com |
d2b739b2a22c40a78c633748de7f4fb8 | ['3c9d4d404efe4a5b8e78cd1028bcf9a3'] | That day paparazzi got pics of Harry running out of my driveway. They thought I cheated on Danielle which was true, but didn't know if we were still together. The following week Danielle and I went out every day to show the paps that yes, we were still together. I haven't talked to Harry in a week and it was probably the hardest week of my life. I've had sex with Danielle multiple times because she always pleads and doesn't let me say no. I know there's something wrong about that but I love Danielle and I'd do anything for her. "LOUIS," Danielle shouts. I walk to our bedroom. "I wanna have sex now" she says. I don't object but when I try to put the condom on Danielle stops me. "No I want to do it without a condom," she says lightly, like it didn't matter that we might end up having a baby because my pull out game wasn't too strong. "Are you sure, you might get pregnant..." I said trailing off to what I was thinking. "I don't care I want to show Harry you're mine," before she kisses me and doesn't give a chance for me to say no. After we were done I didn't pull out but I didn't bother thinking about it. I was thinking about Harry and how he was doing. Danielle's leaving on a job trip to the U.S.
After Danielle left, Louis called Harry right away. "..Hello?" Harry's voice sounded uncertain. "Hey baby," Louis says, the words naturally coming to him. "Hey," Harry said. "Can I come over? We can just watch a movie or something" Louis says. "Sure," Harry says his voice laced with hope. "Ok see you soon" Louis says and hangs up. He puts on his white Vans, gray joggers, and a plain white shirt with a black hoodie over it. He steps out in the harsh cold and gets in the car. The car ride was short and he gets out and rings the doorbell. Harry still looked stunning as usual and Louis was so happy to see him that he pulled him in for a tight hug. Harry laughed but hugged him back and closed the door. After they were done hugging, they sat on the couch. "What do you want to watch?" Louis asks. "PornHub," Harry said. "Okay," Louis says nonchalantly like he does this everyday (which he might). He casts his phone on the TV screen using Bluetooth and Harry watches the screen as Louis types in 'gay teen getting fucked'. The house is filled with moans and Louis is grateful Harry doesn't have any neighbors that are too close to his house.
He rubs his cock from the inside of his joggers as he watches the teen getting fucked in the ass, his cock bobbing up and down on the TV screen. Harry was resisting the urge to grab his own cock but gave in when the teen came on his own body. "Do you wanna watch ones with only one person? Or lesbian porn?" Louis asks Harry looking over to where Harry already has boxers down to his ankles and his long hard cock in his hand. "First the ones with only one person" Harry says, and Louis sees a little bit of precum coming out of Harry's cock making Louis harder. He types in 'gay masturbation' and they watch the guy going solo as he sticks a dildo up his ass and tries to cum with no hands. They watched as his cock grew harder and Louis moaned, circling the head of his cock. The guy eventually came with no hands but Harry and Louis lasted for the last porn video. Louis typed in 'lesbian' and scooched closer to Harry so they could touch each other's cocks this time. As the two girls started 69'ing and licking each other's clits Louis and Harry grabbed each other's cocks and quickly jerked each other off until the video ended. They came almost at the same time, panting and cleaned themselves up.
They watched Star Wars: Rogue 1 after that as they lay in each other's arms and Louis sighed. He missed Harry and he didn't care what the paps think. He played with Harry's curls even as he was fixated on the movie. "Hey do you have a piano? I want to show you my new song," Louis suddenly asked Harry, a small blush forming on his cheeks. "I have a keyboard," Harry said leaving the room and returning with a smirk and a keyboard in his hands. "Thanks," Louis said and started playing the intro of They Don't Know About Us.
People say we shouldn't be together
We're too young to know about forever
But I say they don't know what they talk, talk, talkin' about
'Cause this love is only getting stronger
So I don't wanna wait any longer
I just wanna tell the world that you're mine
Oh
They don't know about the things we do
They don't know about the "I love yous"
But I bet you if they only knew
They would just be jealous of us,
They don't know about the up all nights
They don't know I've waited all my life
Just to find a love that feels this right
Baby they don't know about
They don't know about us
Just one touch and I was a believer
Every kiss it gets a little sweeter
It's getting better
Keeps getting better all the time girl
They don't know about the things we do
They don't know about the "I love you's"
But I bet you if they only knew
They would just be jealous of us,
They don't know about the up all nights
They don't know I've waited all my life
Just to find a love that feels this right
Baby, they don't know about
They don't know how special you are
They don't know what you've done to my heart | c4b80c4828504ec9b547035adc04e26f | ['3c9d4d404efe4a5b8e78cd1028bcf9a3'] | "Well, I'm Louis," and before Louis could leave the scene, Zayn takes one of the drinks out of Louis’ hand and throws it down his throat. Louis could only stare as Zayn drinks the whole thing in one gulp. Zayn looks back at Louis, his pupils blown like he just sniffed a line of coke. He didn't know if it was because of Louis or the drink, but Zayn didn't care. Louis felt nervous, almost the same way he felt when he saw Harry again at the hospital and asked him out. Louis sighs, and gives in. He drinks his martini too, giving a small smile to Zayn. The tension between them at the bar was indescribable. You could hear a pin drop. Then before Louis knew it, their lips were attached to each other. He felt Zayn's warm mouth against his. Their lips moved in sync and Louis felt himself getting hot. Zayn started grinding on Louis in the secluded corner. Louis moaned into Zayn's neck.
"Let's go to my room," Zayn whispers into Louis' ear. Louis obliged, thoughts on Harry and if he came down here and witnessed him and Zayn.
Zayn led Louis by his hand and they took the elevator up to the third floor, not without another make out session, since they were the only ones in the elevator. When they heard the ding! they practically ran out of the elevator, and when they arrived at Zayn’s room, he was fumbling with the keys.
“Hurry up,” Louis hissed. Right as he said it the door opened and Zayn closed the door as he led Louis over to the bed. They fell over gracefully (like Harry and Louis did a while ago) and Louis felt guilty. “This is not a good idea,” he mumbles, not before Zayn kisses him gently on the lips, leaving Louis breathless for more.
“What was that, love?” Zayn asks. Love. That’s what Louis calls Harry. He pushes Zayn off.
“I said this isn’t a good idea” he says his head in his hands. Zayn reaches over Louis’ shoulders, massaging and relaxing him.
“You won’t regret it,” Zayn says into his ear, making Louis turn over to him.
“And what makes you say that?” Louis asks Zayn with genuine curiosity who laughs.
“Because no one’s ever complained getting with me before,” he smirks, his confidence radiating through the room.
And that’s all it takes for Louis to push his lips against Zayn insistently, who kisses back.
~Harry’s POV~
I finished unpacking in half an hour, a feeling of satisfaction coming to me. I wonder where Louis is, he’s been gone for so long, only to get two drinks from the bar. I decide to head down there myself, since I got bored flipping through the channels on the telly. When I finally got to the first floor, I went past the lobby and followed the sign that pointed me toward the bar. Huh. I looked all over the place and couldn’t find Louis. I decided to ask the bartender.
“Hello, have you seen a man with light brown hair, wearing erm- a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans?” I asked, the worry evident in my voice. I hope the description was good enough for him and was relieved when the bartender nodded.
“Yes, he left with another man to go to his room, I’m guessing,” the bartender smirked, and went back to polishing his wine glasses, dropping the subject and seeming bored. All the color drained from my face and the bartender peered at me.
“Why? Do you know him?”
“Of course I know him, he’s my- he’s my boyfriend,” I said, as I sat on one of the stools at the bar, not bothering to find Louis anymore.
“Oh,” the bartender said awkwardly. The bartender tried to lighten up the mood.
“Well you could always get back at him for cheating,” he said.
And there it was. The confirmation, that yes, Louis just happened to cheat on me, his boyfriend.
I groaned. I was supposed to be spending the time in the Bahamas with my boyfriend who now happened to cheat on me.
“How could I possibly do that,” I say, feeling exasperated.
“Look around, there’s tons of hot guys here, cheat back on him. Show how you really feel,” sounding much like my therapist in eighth grade. I cocked my head at the bartender.
“Is that really a good idea?” I question him.
“Yes, I’ve done it plenty of times and it works like a charm,” the bartender playfully winked at me.
“What even is your name, if you don’t mind me asking,” I decide to politely ask instead.
“Liam,” he says.
“Well Liam, even if I did want to get back at my boyfriend I’d want him to see it,” I say, contemplating on whether to say ex-boyfriend or boyfriend...
“Then wait for him to get back to your room, bring him down here, find someone, and make out with them,” Liam says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
I can’t help rolling my eyes, “Ok,” I finally say after what seems like five minutes. “I’ll take a shot of whatever you have,” I sighed.
Liam nods, and gives me some vodka, which I drink in one gulp.
“More, I need to get drunk to cheat on my boyfriend,” I say and giggle as Liam raises his eyebrows, but does as he was told.
~Louis 3rd person POV~
After having sex with Zayn, Louis pulls on his clothes, feeling mixed feelings. Wrong, because he just had sex with Zayn, and right, because… Well he just had sex with Zayn.
“I have to go,” Louis says to Zayn, not before Zayn slings an arm around Louis’ shoulder and kisses him sweetly.
“Ok, bye love, you know where my room is,” Zayn says smugly and giving a hug to Louis, who merely nods and gives a hesitant smile to Zayn
The walk to Harry and his room felt excruciating, since his ass was too sore for words, and when he finally got to their room, he felt relieved but also a sense of dread. He knocked since he didn’t have the keys to their room, and heard the door open.
“HEY MATE GLAD YOU MADE IT BACK,” Harry slurs, giggling like a child.
“Harry…” Louis gulps. “Are you okay?”
“NEV- never better my friend,” Harry slurs. “Let’s go to the bar for more drinks, babe,” he hiccups.
Louis wanted to say no, but felt guilty so he nodded. They walk- well Harry stumbles- down the hall and to the elevator Louis and Zayn made out in and Louis feels like a horrible person. Before Louis could confess however, the elevator opens to the first floor, and Louis follows as Harry practically runs to the bar. |
ce9e7d67acca46e596159f4e45aa00bc | ['3cabe45550f54dbb83453bf0ea4200e1'] |
1. shinsou hitoshi gets blatantly ignored by everyone planning him a party so he solves this by sleeping
**Author's Note:**
> rip chaos in the common room lmao
_ Iida Tenya added 19 people to the group chat. _
Iida Tenya: This group chat is for studying purposes!! Please ask questions about the homework if you have any!!
Uraraka Ochaco: Iida, we love you, but you’ve just added all of us to this group chat.
Kaminari Denki: i feel called out
Sero Hanta: normally id say they werent talking about you but lets be honest theyre definitely talking about you
Kaminari Denki: bro… whyd you gotta call me out like that
Iida Tenya: PLEASE USE THIS CHAT FOR ITS ORIGINAL PURPOSE, THANKS
Jirou Kyoka: lmao
Iida Tenya: THAT MEANS EVERYONE.
Iida Tenya: Also, as we all know, Mineta Minoru has been moved out of 1A due to his behaviour.
Jirou Kyoka: BYE GRAPESTAIN
Ashido Mina: BYE GRAPESTAIN
Uraraka Ochaco: BYE GRAPESTAIN
Hagakure Tooru: BYE GRAPESTAIN
Yaoyorozu Momo: Bye grapestain
Asui Tsuyu: bye grapestain
Midoriya Izuku: Bye grapESTAIN
Todoroki Shouto: bye grapestain
Iida Tenya: Even you, Todoroki?
Iida Tenya: Anyway, Mineta is gone, meaning there is an open spot in 1A.
Iida Tenya: Aizawa-Sensei has informed me that that spot will be filled by none other than Shinsou Hitoshi, originally from General Studies!!
Kaminari Denki: thE BRAINWSHAY GUY???
Shinsou Hitoshi: hey
Kaminari Denki: ITS HIM!!!!!
Midoriya Izuku: !!!! You’ll be transferring to 1A????
Shinsou Hitoshi: yeah
Midoriya Izuku: when!!!!!
Shinsou Hitoshi: what day is today
Sero Hanta: it is wednesday my dudes
Shinsou Hitoshi: it’s monday
Shinsou Hitoshi: i’ll be transferred into your dorms on saturday
Uraraka Ochaco: Nice!!!!
Bakugou Katsuki: what the fuck is this
Shinsou Hitoshi: a coke
Kaminari Denki: he knows no fear
Kaminari Denki: i like you already
Shinsou Hitoshi: ew
Sero Hanta: dang son
Ashido Mina: guYs!!!!!
Ashido Mina: it’s been sO LONG SINCE WEVE THROWN A PARTY
Ashido Mina: AND TBIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY!!
Iida Tenya: Great idea! We will throw a housewarming party for Shinsou!
Shinsou Hitoshi: no
Kaminari Denki: oh yes
Kirishima Eijirou: bakugou and I can make food!!
Satou Rikidou: I’ll make a cake
Shinsou Hitoshi: no
Bakugou Katsuki: bakugou is doing what
Kirishima Eijirou: makin food with me!!
Bakugou Katsuki: you are going to burn the fucking kitchen down
Kirishima Eijirou: bold of you to assume I haven’t done it already
Jirou Kyoka: momo and i can get present mic to chaperone
Shinsou Hitoshi: please don’t
Kaminari Denki: jirou and i can create a playlist!!! aoyama is the disco ball
Aoyama Yuuga: I was summoned?
Aoyama Yuuga: Why
Shinsou Hitoshi: s t o p
Kaminari Denki: n o
Sero Hanta: youre part of 1a now bud
Sero Hanta: there is no escape
Shinsou Hitoshi: i’m going to bed
Kaminari Denki: its like 7 pm bro
Shinsou Hitoshi: bye
Midoriya Izuku: WaIt I have a question!!!!!
Shinsou Hitoshi: ask
Midoriya Izuku: What dorm are you getting??
Shinsou Hitoshi: unfortunately ua is only kind enough to let me transfer into the hero course but not get a contamination-free room
Shinsou Hitoshi: i’m getting the short pervert’s old room
Jirou Kyoka: omg im so sorry
Shinsou Hitoshi: don’t worry aizawa’s already deep cleaned it 4 times
Jirou Kyoka: thank god for aizawa
Ashido Mina: RT
Shinsou Hitoshi: rt
Yaoyorozu Momo: RT
Asui Tsuyu: Rt
Midoriya Izuku: rt
Aoyama Yuuga: Rt~
Uraraka Ochaco: Rt
Kirishima Eijirou: rt
Shinsou Hitoshi: seriously i’m gonna pass out bye
Iida Tenya: Goodnight Shinsou!! Sleep well!
Kaminari Denki: snatch those zs
Midoriya Izuku: gn!!!
2. some insomniacs talk about wattpad at 3am, and iida gets killed
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> *sips tea* told u id update
_ 1A Chat _
Midoriya Izuku: Shinsou what’s your favourite colour??
Shinsou Hitoshi: take a guess and why
Midoriya Izuku: Because it’s 2 am, I can’t sleep, I really need something to do, and this gets questions that will be asked at the party out of the way
Shinsou Hitoshi: oh
Shinsou Hitoshi: same
Midoriya Izuku: And I’m gonna guess purple :D
Shinsou Hitoshi: i don’t actually have a favourite colour
Midoriya Izuku: I like green!
Shinsou Hitoshi: doesn’t your last name literally mean green
Midoriya Izuku: Yeah!
Midoriya Izuku: Wait hold on why aren’t you asleep??
Shinsou Hitoshi: insomnia
Midoriya Izuku: !!! Me too
Midoriya Izuku: Whats the longest book you’ve ever read
Shinsou Hitoshi: i read les mis once
Midoriya Izuku: Isn’t that the one nicknamed ‘the brick’?
Shinsou Hitoshi: yeah it’s over 600k words and has the dimensions of an actual brick
Shinsou Hitoshi: in comparison hp book 5 is only 250k
Midoriya Izuku: Holy cow
Midoriya Izuku: How much time did it take you to read that???
Shinsou Hitoshi: like 3 days
Midoriya Izuku: That’s like 200k words a day???
Shinsou Hitoshi: i don’t want to talk about it
Shinsou Hitoshi: wbu
Midoriya Izuku: Uh
Shinsou Hitoshi: do i look like i would judge
Midoriya Izuku: ,,,,,
Midoriya Izuku: It was a 270k All Might fanfiction,,,,,
Shinsou Hitoshi: no offence but i’m judging
Midoriya Izuku: Would you look at that! It’s 3 am! I should sleep haha
Shinsou Hitoshi: but will you
Midoriya Izuku: ,, no
Midoriya Izuku: Did you know there’s a nickname feature here?
Shinsou Hitoshi: i am painfully aware of it
Midoriya Izuku: Well then
Midoriya Izuku: We should change ours!!
_ Shinsou Hitoshi has changed their nickname to catspresso. _
catspresso: k
Midoriya Izuku: .
Midoriya Izuku: I found a flaw in my own plan
catspresso: you can’t think of one?
Midoriya Izuku: Yeah
catspresso: i have one
_ catspresso has changed Midoriya Izuku’s nickname to wattpad. _
wattpad: I’m skdhfhwihsdkf
wattpad: Why
catspresso: change it then
wattpad: I don’t have anything better
catspresso: dude everyone already knows you’re a fanboy
catspresso: i’ve known you for a day and a half and i already know
wattpad: Well then
wattpad: I am tired
wattpad: Goodnight shinsou!!
catspresso: yeah
\------- | 6fc15f30a5bf402b83b963bb541d83fa | ['3cabe45550f54dbb83453bf0ea4200e1'] | Harrison glanced to Nerris beside him and found her furiously rubbing her eyes, round glasses still on her face. “Nerris, are you-”
“Shut up,” Nerris half-mumbled frustratedly, throwing a punch that was solid but obviously not meant to cause any real pain at his arm.
Harrison looked at the forest floor, opting to listen to her rather than push it. The dynamic that had built up between the two that summer was strange, it was definitely one of the most intense rivalries he’d had in his lifetime, but all the same, it was probably the strongest friendship he’s ever experienced.
He was going to miss her.
Harrison sniffled and saw a tear fall into the dirt under his face. He quickly wiped his eyes, but Nerris and Preston caught him before he did.
“Harrison? Dude,” Nerris said quietly. She nudged him with her leg. “Are you…”
Harrison nodded, cutting her off, not really sure if he was saying yes to _ are you crying _ or _ are you okay _ . He felt more tears fall, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his breathing, trying to mourn the friendships he would be unable to continue as quietly as he could. He heard Preston crossing over to his side of the log and shifted so that Harrison was in the middle instead of Nerris. He wiped his eyes and looked up, seeing Nerris’s wet eyes and eyelashes staring at him on one side and Preston holding back tears on the other on the sides of his vision. Almost simultaneously, Preston wrapped Harrison in a side hug and Nerris placed her hand on his shoulder.
Harrison let himself cry, as silent as possible.
_ Oh, rivers and roads, _
_ Rivers ‘til I reach you. _
God, how he was going to miss them.
**Author's Note:**
> whew
>
> im p sure harrisons voice actor is israeli (pls correct me if im wrong) which means im obligated to make camp camps last day how mine always are (... this was a jewish joke im jewish pls dont get offended at this)
>
> i proMISE ILL WORK HARDER TO ACTUALLY FINISH THIS THIS TIME |
1b635fe7cc4b4d82a8f6bfc4b7b762f8 | ['3cbf163f805840f69ff368531ef380ad'] | Well now that James had gone and said it of course he'd have to think about it. How was he ever going to stop thinking about it? Was there any sort of coherent answer to the one word question James had posed? He had been doing a fine job of avoiding that train of thought before. Of course James would look very pleased with himself over inflicting this upon his best mate.
"You're a terrible friend and a terrible influence. I hope you know that."
"Yes. My loving marriage and sage advice are actually just meant to make you think really hard and get wrinkles before I do. That was my evil plan."
* * *
If Sirius were to encounter a time-turner version of himself at 16, that teenager would probably have to be taken to St. Mungos from the shock he’d suffer. This was not the plan. He’d never thought any of this was for him at all. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but he’d accepted that it was happening.
He’d never even been to a jeweler before. What instance would he have had? It was all new territory as he looked at the different rings on display under a magical barrier meant to keep people from touching things.
_ This jewelry shop should write a personal note of thanks to James Potter. _
It was by James’s doing that Sirius was there and ready to give them an inordinate sum of gold for something extremely small and fairly non-functional. But his best friend had put a bug in his ear and now he couldn’t get it out. He’d meant not to think about the whole… marriage… thing until later. Really truly he had. But then James brought it up and there was genuinely no good answer to “why?”
He knew he didn’t want to cause more pain for either of them if one of them didn’t make it. But it was like when he couldn’t admit that he loved her and couldn’t call her his girlfriend. It didn’t actually mean that he wouldn’t have been devastated if he’d lost her. Saying it just meant it could be out in the open. It meant he could enjoy the good part, while living with the crippling fear that was already there.
Marlene was due for dinner at her parents’ with the rest of her family...what was left of her family… and Sirius decided that was his opportunity to go pick out a ring.
He’d only just walked out of the jewelers with the square cut diamond ring with the little moonstones on the side when Dumbledore’s phoenix patronus came.
“The McKinnon House has been attacked, come at once.”
Sirius apparated out immediately. When he arrived in the Mckinnon family’s yard, he saw Mad-Eye Moody trying and failing to cast an incarcerous at a moving target.
The house was on fire. There was blood on the ground. Sirius didn’t know whose.
Minerva McGonagall was there, attempting to subdue the fire, which looked like dark magic to Sirius, who’d grown up surrounded by exactly that. It looked like fiendfyre.
“Marlene!” He screamed involuntarily. He didn’t see any of the McKinnons. Had they been inside? Where was the attack? What had happened?
Mad Eye cast a killing curse at the fleeing death eater. This time he hit his target. The wizard fell to the ground like a puppet who had his strings cut.
Sirius had never seen a killing curse hit before.
He approached Mad-Eye, who looked wounded. He was bleeding from the nose, but he was still on his feet.
“Where are the McKinnons?”
“They were all inside. Ambushed. The Older boy, Gawain, put up a fight. He was still alive when I arrived. Took Wilkes down with him when the fiendfyre got him. And the others. I’m sorry. All we can do now is hunt down the slime that did this and put them away.”
Sirius could hear the pain in Mad-eyes voice, channeled into anger. But everything started to seem like a far away echo as soon as he heard that all of them were gone. He felt his legs collapsing under him. Hot tears were rolling down his face.
Marlene…
He should have been there with her. If he’d just gone with her maybe she’d have been safe. Or at least he’d have been dead too.
He couldn’t live without her. He’d find the rest of the wizards responsible for murdering the woman he’d been out buying an engagement ring for, he’d kill them, and hopefully himself too in the process. This world wasn’t livable anymore.
He wasn’t sure know how long he stood there on his knees sobbing before Minerva McGonagall was there with a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, my boy. I know… what it’s like to lose someone you love. I know nothing I say will help right now, but I want you to know you aren’t alone.”
The world was spinning at a rapid pace but then he heard a faint little quack and it all came to a screeching halt. He stood up and looked around. He heard it again.
That could be her. It could.
“I’m sorry Minerva… I’ve… I’ve got to go.”
He followed the faint sound until it got louder. It seemed to be coming from a bush near a 3rd story window.
He looked around and the quacking became louder. It was her. It had to be her, trying to alert him.
“I’m here little duck. I’m here. Marlene. You’re… alive. Marlene?”
He knelt down and found the tiny injured animagus the ground. It looked like she was in pain, and she obviously couldn’t walk, but from what he could tell there was no bleeding.
“Did you jump from the window?”
She couldn’t answer, but that must have been what happened.
“You’re hurt. I have to get you help.”
She quacked frantically as if to object. | ff9de9ddc22446c783c54c1f077d3cd5 | ['3cbf163f805840f69ff368531ef380ad'] | Grace McKinnon had just been part of the background noise for Sirius. She was by all accounts a decent person and a good student. She was order affiliated like all the McKinnons. She was not anything to write home about. If one were going to write home at all, which Sirius didn’t.
But he found Marlene _ very _ interesting. And very cute. He did have to write a report of how things were going with her for Dumbledore, but he needed to refrain from mentioning how cute he thought she was. That was both irrelevant and likely to reflect poorly on him as a mentor.
“Well I am different. You have that right. But you’re probably the first person to think I’m more impressive. Grace is in healer training. Grace was a prefect. Grace is lovely. She isn’t… verbally clumsy...like me.”
“Verbally Clumsy. That is a brilliant way of putting it. And I actually think that makes you more impressive? It’s… well never mind. You’re my favorite McKinnon for sure.”
_ I could probably just stare at her all afternoon and soak up all that warmth. _
He knew that wouldn’t be a very useful lesson. He’d figure something out. Or else they’d just kill time until it became evident that nothing was getting taught today. It was strange but Sirius could deal with that.
He’d rather have Marlene smiling at him than not. That was what it came down to.
* * *
Sirius was not an impressive duelist, even under the best conditions. He was passing decent. Maybe. He tended to act on instinct rather than calculating his moves based on his opponents weaknesses.
But with Marlene he couldn’t muster any sort of impulse toward aggression. His dueling was just awful and it was, in his mind, all her fault.
_ Damn her and her annoying cute freckles and her irritatingly sweet smile. _
No one could be expected to send a curse at her with any kind of power behind it. Every instinct he had was more along the lines of “give the girl a hug” rather than “knock her on her arse”.
“You don’t have to let me win Sirius! You know that won’t help me at all if I were to end up in a real battle.” She looked a little annoyed with him. Annoyed but still excessively sweet.
“Sorry. I wasn’t actually... It wasn’t intentional. I just can’t bring myself… what if I hurt you? You’re uh… really tiny and breakable.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
Marlene was telling the truth. It was impossible to grow up as the youngest of five and come away the delicate little flower Sirius believed she was. She was a sweet Hufflepuff with a petite frame, but she also had the top marks in her year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She didn’t need to be big to throw big spells.
She was gifted enough and had all the OWLs to apply to the ministry to be an auror, if she’d been of a mind to. She had a brother-in-law in the aurors even. Professor Sprout had been surprised bordering on disappointed that Marlene was not even considering a career in magical law enforcement.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of a fight or didn’t want to devote herself to taking down dark wizards, it was a matter of not wanting to work for the ministry.
“How about we just go for disarming?”
Marlene rolled her eyes. Sirius would have to get over this notion eventually. But she wouldn’t push him. For one thing, she thought it was very sweet that he was afraid of hurting her.
She waffled over what that and every other little thing Sirius did might imply regarding his feelings towards her. She went over and over it, 30 times a day every day for at least the past week. She had no delusions that he didn’t know about her crush. Anyone who spent the least bit of time around the two of them would have known. It was not hard to spot. She was fairly certain that he didn’t find her entirely repulsive. He did seem to enjoy her company. That was a start.
“Fine fine. But you have to really try to disarm me. No half hearted expelliarmus! I _ will _ notice and we will have words.”
“Well I’d hate for us to have to _ have words _ .”
His tone rang out _ a little _ flirtatious in his teasing. He only noticed when he saw the blush creeping up under Marlene’s freckles. She was highly attuned to these little things. More so than Sirius himself. She was brimming with nervous excitement.
Sirius was just plain nervous rather than excited. She already looked at him like he hung the moon. He felt he shouldn’t encourage her little crush.
Except that he was really enjoying it.
He went about his mental self flagellation, wondering what was wrong with him, how could he be so mean to egg her on like that…
He questioned if he was really that much of an egotistical wanker that he’d encourage her in that direction because it was fun to have someone earnestly admire him like that.
_ Gross. _
On the the other hand, that was far preferable than the alternative _. _ He could handle being an arse. Plenty of people would have said he was already doing a fine job there. He couldn’t handle growing feelings for her. Feelings were a whole other level of gross.
_ Scary gross _
He took a breath and then a bow, to signify the start of this round of their duel. Soon he’d cast his expelliarmus and she’d thrown up her shield. Her shield which was quite sturdy. |
69c1f7d2136147b582283b1e9519e362 | ['3cd8d05da7f24cbbb3dcfa843b828969'] |
1. The Fall
**Author's Note:**
> This is pretty much copied word-for-word from Wattpad. The chapters start out short and not very descriptive, but they improve as it goes on.
>
> So bear with me here.
"Master Bruce, where do you think you're going?" Alfred asked.
The millionaire paused in putting on his jacket. "Haly's Circus. I bought tickets. I don't want them to go to waste."
"Sir, you are in no condition to go out."
"Alfred--"
"You have the flu. You need rest. It is either this or the business meeting tomorrow. And you DID say that was important, did you not?"
"Alfred, I am a grown man, and--"
"One that evidently never learned when to take the night off." The butler raised his eyebrows pointedly.
The millionaire took the hint and handed his jacket to his insistent housekeeper. "Give the tickets to Commissioner Gordon and his daughter. I'm sure they would enjoy it. I hope I don't miss anything bigger than the Graysons' quadruple flip."
xXx
_Snap._
_Crack._
Screaming.
Dick stared at his parents' still forms in disbelief. What-- How-- Were-- Could they--?
Complete thoughts were beyond his capabiliy.
He tried to approach them, shoving through the crowd.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't get close enough. He couldn't get there. He couldn't see them anymore.
He couldn't bring himself to do it.
So he ran.
He left behind the tent and raced away, not paying attention to where he was going.
He was sobbing now, gasping as he blindly stumbled away from the tragedy and horror behind him.
He ran right into him.
xXx
Slade Wilson grabbed the boy who had run into him by the shoulders, taking in the costume he wore and his disheveled and distraught appearance.
The boy tried to pull away, which was understandable. He imagined the Deathstroke uniform looked terrifying in the eyes of a child.
"What's happened?" he asked him.
The boy continued to sob and babbled incomplete thoughts in Romanian. "Mami-- Tati-- cădea **[fell]** \-- întrerupe **[cut]** \-- firele **[wires]** \--" He broke off into more sobbing.
He could glean enough. "Where are they now?"
That just made him cry even harder.
The mercenary finally understood. "Your mother and father are dead?"
The boy nodded, finally trying to rein in his emotions. He was now breathing in shuddering gasps. He made a small noise in the back of his throat that brought forth an emotion the mercenary hadn't felt in years: compassion.
"What do you say I help you?"
"H-help me?" Apparently the acrobat could speak English.
"You say the wires were cut?"
"I saw him! The man who did it! I saw him come out of the tent! But I didn't *hic* tell anyone..." The agony of what Slade knew must be guilt appeared on his face, contorting his expression to suit its needs. He was on the verge of crying again.
Under his mask, Slade had smiled slightly at the hiccup, but was immediately distracted by the pain in the boy's voice and how much he knew the boy needed to stop blaming himself. Now, the smile came back, a bit bigger, as he arrived at a decision. "Well, what do you say we pay him a little visit?"
2. Five Years Later
Wally West jumped when he heard a yelp coming from the alley beside him. He hesitated, debating over whether to check out the noise, but when he heard labored breathing, his good nature overruled his good judgment. He carefully stepped into the space between the two buildings and allowed his eyes to adjust to the shade cast by the afternoon light.
"Hello?" he called into the quiet.
There was a jostling of garbage cans not far away.
"Is someone there?" He stepped slowly toward the noise.
A dark-haired boy poked his head over the row of cans, then quickly ducked down again.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you," the redhead said gently.
"I doubt you could," was the muttered reply.
"Look, I just wanted to talk." He finally rounded the corner to face the teen, who looked not two years younger than Wally himself.
"There isn't anything to talk about." The boy was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall behind him. He was holding one ankle and was clearly holding back a painful grimace.
"I think there is." Without asking, he plopped down next to the boy and turned slightly toward him. "What happened?"
"Twisted my ankle doing something stupid."
"What?"
"None of your business."
Wally noticed something else. "What happened there?" He tapped his own cheekbone.
The stranger self-consciously put a hand to his face. "Fell."
"Are you sure? I have plenty of experience falling--"
"I'm sure you do."
"--and I'm pretty sure you didn't get that big of a bruise in that shape from _falling_."
"Well, I did. So there," he said with finality.
"Is it your dad?" Wally asked after a brief pause.
"I told you, I fell! Can't you just leave well enough alone?"
"Except it's _not_ well enough."
"Oh, shut up. What do you know?"
"I know that it isn't healthy to be in this sort of condition." He noticed that there was a makeshift splint on the ankle that the teen had been holding. "You do that yourself?" he asked.
"Yeah. My... uh... father taught me how to years ago."
"Cool."
"Yeah. He's taught me a lot."
"Like what?"
"Everything I know. How to make a splint, how to stop a wound from bleeding, how to hotwire a car, how to fight."
"Do you need to fight a lot?"
"Not usually. I'm more of a sneak than a head-on guy."
"Does he hurt you?"
"Nah. Not anymore. I'm better than I used to be."
Wally's head was buzzing with questions. "Not anymore? And better at what?" | 736fb9b8206b45f28d9f8d013efac3ea | ['3cd8d05da7f24cbbb3dcfa843b828969'] | Artemis (of _course_ he remembered her) tilted her head and regarded him curiously. "Robin, huh?" She sounded almost skeptical, which he could understand, considering that she probably somewhat recognized him. "I'm Artemis." The look in her eye said they would _definitely_ talk later. He figured she would figure it out on her own soon enough.
Miss Martian, sweet as she was, flew right over and offered him a warm smile. "I'm M'gann, but I usually go by Miss Martian in the field." Once she'd said that, her smile grew uneasy (for some reason), and she backed away slightly.
Kid Flash suddenly appeared not two feet away. "Kid Flash," he introduced himself with a mischievous smirk. Robin could immediately tell that they were going to get along excellently-- or terribly. He couldn't quite tell for sure yet. But something seemed familiar to Robin about the speedster. He dismissed it for later, remembering that he would be with these people for a long time.
Superboy made a minimal effort to introduce himself, pointing a thumb at his chest and saying gruffly, "Superboy." (Right, because he totally mistook him for Wonder Woman.)
"Pleasure to meet you all." Robin gave a dramatic bow.
Artemis' jaw dropped, and Robin knew that 'soon enough' was then. He smirked at her, and her mouth clapped shut. Her eyes narrowed, and he knew that the conversation she had non-verbally told him about had just grown in size and significance.
Batman interrupted their meet-and-greet. "Robin will train with you for the day, then he'll come back with me for the night. Any questions?"
Kid Flash raised his hand. "What kind of training?"
Batman turned partially toward him. "That's up to you five."
They looked shocked. "Us, sir?" Aqualad asked tentatively.
"Yes. You'll figure out what he needs to learn about fairly soon." He stepped into the Zeta tube. "I'll be back later." He disappeared in the characteristic golden flash of light.
Everyone looked at Robin, but he was just as puzzled as everyone else.
"So... wanna hang out?" Kid Flash asked him. Everyone (excluding Robin) glared at the speedster. "What? I just wanna get to know the guy."
Robin shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
"Wanna watch a movie?" Kid Flash asked. Robin shrugged again. "All right, I'm in an Avengers mood. Let's go!" He started toward the door that led out of the room.
"...what?" Everyone stopped at Robin's question.
"What, what?" the speedster asked back.
"What do you mean... you're 'in an Avengers mood'?"
Kid Flash sounded confused. "You know, in a mood to watch the Avengers."
"Oh," Robin said quietly. That answer had left him more confused than before.
M'gann sensed his confusion. "You know, the superhero movie?"
Robin shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort from being completely ignorant of what they were talking about. "Let's just watch it."
Kid Flash's voice was quiet with disbelief. "You don't know who the Avengers are."
"So what?" Robin asked defensively.
"They're only one of the biggest brands on the PLANET!" The redhead pinched his nose. "Wow, Bats was right. We know _exactly_ what training you need." He grabbed Robin by the arm and dragged him into the TV room. "Movie marathon! Someone make popcorn, because this poor kid probably hasn't had any of that either." He sat Robin down on the couch and started turning things on. "Let's get this thing going!"
12. Chats
"Recognized: Batman. 02." The teleporter flashed brightly, and the Dark Knight stepped out of the alcove.
Robin was ready to go when he arrived. He had a new notepad on him listing every book (comic and otherwise) he needed to read, along with emails to use to contact select members in their free time.
"Are you ready to go?" Batman asked.
Robin shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be." He fiddled mindlessly with a batarang, twirling it between his fingers.
Batman looked toward the team. "We'll be back tomorrow." He turned back to the teleporter, and Robin followed him into it. As he felt the familiar warmth envelop him, he turned back and raised his hand in farewell to his new comrades. He wasn't sure they could see him, and he couldn't be sure of anything with the bright light around him, but he thought he could see a couple of them wave back.
Then he was in that awful place of floating, unable to see anything, only aware of the sheer _nothing_ around him. He hated it just as much as the last time; the only difference was that he knew what to brace himself for. But, fortunately, he could feel his feet coming into existence on the floor in the Batcaveunlocked the Batmobile and jumped in. Once Robin was sure he had a hold of himself, he jogged to catch up and hopped in himself. "Now what?" he asked. "Patrol?"
Bruce half-turned to him. " _You're_ going to go back to the manor. You need the rest after your _training_ today." Robin opened his mouth to reply, but promptly shut it again. They both stayed quiet for a moment, but then Bruce broke the silence. "How was the Team?" |
aa85fa07e851499fa96d23ab088d0391 | ['3cdda25ee0634bc08d0ea9af6ad688af'] | “Thank you, my Lord.” Corellon patted her on the top of the head.
“You will be wonderful. Tell you Atara I said Hello, and that I’m flattered that she named you after me. Now I think it’s time for you to wake up.” And with that Cori was sitting up right breathing a bit heavy. Gala came to kneel in front of her smiling.
“How was it?” Cori smiled at her Atara.
“Corellon said hi and that he’s flattered that you named me after him.” Gala laughed wholeheartedly.
“He better be, he asked me too.”
Many years latter Cori stood in front of his mirror getting ready for a ceremony for the initiation of the new priestess. Cori looked over smiling at the picture of Gala that sat on his vanity.
“I know what you didn’t day that day Atara. You weren’t the first woman to hold the priest. Just like I’m not the first man to hold the title of priestess.” With that Cori went out to help the young priestess on what Cori considered one of the wildest adventures in a priestesses life, and he is a retired adventurer.
11. Day 11 Cruel
Cori looked at himself in the mirror, today was going to be hard but he had been preparing for this for a while now. He pulled on his bracers the last part of his outfit. The dress he was wear was a very dark blue floor length gown with long lace sleeves. Cori hadn’t conducted a funeral in a long time, but he was willing to do this for one of his closest friends. It feels like just yesterday I was officiating their wedding. There was a knock at the door that pulled him from his thoughts. Zelphar was standing there in the doorway holding their young child Olwen on his hip. He was dressed in his dress uniform and had his hair pulled up in a bun.
“You ready Nogezan?” Cori sighed taking one last look in the mirror.
“As ready as I can be.” Cori slipped an arm around Zelphar and the pair walked out of the castle.
Email had managed to have a house built right on the outside of the City, it was right in the middle of an enormous garden that surrounded the whole house. Chairs were set up by the large Oak Tree where Owen and Ecto’s ashes were spread and where Email’s will be too. Zelphar took his seat with Olwen and Cori went up to the front where there was a table that upon it sat a beautiful urn painted with flowers all over it. That was all that was left of one of his closest friends. Cori watched as the seats began to fill and before too long everyone was gathered. Cori lit a few candles and began his speech.
“Hello Everyone, we have all come together to Celebrate the life of Email Fuckslocks, so after this quick ceremony we are going to have the party of the century because we all know that’s what email would have wanted. Email loved flowers are gardens, now this tree was on of importance to Email. It is where their husbands, Ecto and Owen’s ashes are spread and now we will add theirs as well.”
With that Cori opened the urn and laid email to rest under that tree.
Later that night Cori snuck away from the party and sat under the tree where his friend laid. No one would hear his pained sobs over the music of the party. Cori was grateful because he wanted to be alone.
***
The next funeral Cori didn’t officiate. He couldn’t focus well enough to even thing about it. So, Cori filled in his seat in the crown next to Gorandi giving his friend a hug. She smiled a little at him. Olwen wasn’t with them but with Ellowyn. He hadn’t wanted to go to his BiBi’s funeral. Cori looked head at the casket. Brunhilde had died in her sleep peacefully. Now what was left of her was in an urn sitting on a table. Cori wiped a few tears on the sleeve of his dress. Cori rested his hand on his small baby bump that was hidden by his dress. Brunhilde was so excited for his second child to be here. Maybe I’ll name you after her. The little service went in a blur and Cori watched as Gorandi spread her ashes amount a beautiful weeping Willow that help all her other family’s ashes and now hers.
Cori found himself in the kitchen that night unable to sleep. This was is second friend that he had lost to old age. It wasn’t something that Cori thought wouldn’t happen. Being an elf, he knew that he would outlives his friends but what he didn’t expect it to hurt like this. He missed Brunhilde dearly already and knew that it would get worse before it got better. He hadn’t even fully gotten over his grief for Email before Brunhilde had crossed over. Cori felt the tears begin to fall from his eyes and this time he didn’t fight them.
The next morning Zelphar found Cori sound asleep slumped over onto the kitchen table. His heart hurt for his bond that was having such a hard time dealing with the loss of his friends. Zelphar poured out the stale tea. He slowly picked Cori up and took him up to bed tucking him in, kissing his forehead before writing a quick note and heading off to get the ingredients for dinner that night.
*** | ae2e79f57b5b4116862ac1f3000c1d1e | ['3cdda25ee0634bc08d0ea9af6ad688af'] | Me Too
Remus sat next to Sirius at Lily and James’ kitchen table, tucked closely into his Husband’s side. Remus felt his stomach roll. He closed his eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling on Sirius’ hand playing with his hair, so he wouldn’t see his breakfast for the second time that day. His eyes opened when we heard a soft clink at the table in front of him. He opened his eyes and was met with the kind smile on his best friend.
“It’s ginger love” Remus sat up slowly and took the mug in his hands, feeling the warm radiate to his hands.
“Thank You Lils.” She leaned over kissing his forehead and took her seat on the other side of him as James sat next to her. It was a regular Sunday accordance at the Potter’s residents to have the four friends together. Breakfast on Sunday was kind of a tradition, and since Peter had moved across country he would call while they all had tea, but today he couldn’t make it. It wasn’t the easiest arrangement, but the friends wouldn’t change it.
Today Remus was feeling a bit under the weather, his stomach deciding to revolt against him like it had every other morning for the last few days. Now he knew that his friends would chock it up to it being that time of the month and he knew that his husband would as well. What they all didn’t know that Remus was hiding a little secret. A about a year ago him and Sirius decided that they wanted to start a family of their own, ever since then the pair had been trying which out much luck. That was until recently. Remus had been feeling a bit ill for a week or so when he realized that the calendar had the time of the month crossed out and that it had never actually came. There had been false alarms before and Remus didn’t want to get Sirius’ hopes up again, so Remus secretly went out and bought the test and took it while Sirius was a work. The now positive pregnancy test was hidden way in a box under the sink awaiting to be removed from its hiding place.
“So, we have some news.” James smiled as he set his mug down on the table and intertwined his fingers with Lily’s on the table. “Do you want me to tell them or do you want to?”
Lily smiled. “I think I will.”
Remus felt Sirius slip his arm around his waist pulling him to his Husband’s side once again. Lilly took a sip form her mug before she began to speak.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Me too.” Remus replied without him consciously processing it.
“What?” Lily responded looking back at him with pure shock.
“What?” Remus raised his eyebrow.
“You just said me too.” Lilly raised her own eyebrow.
“Moony?” Remus felt Sirius squeeze his hand and he slowly turned to look into those gray eyes filled with hope.
“Are you…” Remus could feel the reluctance to finish the sentence as if Remus was going to tell him it was all a joke.
“Mhm, I’m sorry you found out this way.” Sirius smiled quickly pulling Remus into a kiss.
“Oh Moony, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Sirius placed a kiss on his nose. “I couldn’t be happier.”
“You know what this means Pads? We’re going to be parents!” Before Remus or Lilly could register what was happening, their husbands where hugging and jumping out of excitement like a pair of school girls.
Lily smiled as she picked up her mug again. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”
Remus smiled. “As ready as well ever be.”
**Author's Note:**
> Hi, thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it.
>
> I got the inspiration from this from this Tumblr post http://moonfootblupin.tumblr.com/post/173142628492/regulusarcturussirius-lily-to-marauders-im
>
> -Madi Gwyn |
597ecd1e93e74e52a9d79d18c202842c | ['3ce6c3bf90914087ab5c9c1b504a56e6'] | Every time his parents called to check on him, he always said, "Fine. Everything is fine." Even though, everything was _far_ from _fine_. Not when his wife would rather cry and ignore his existence than speak to him civilly. Not when he stopped caring to _try_ and make her talk to him. Not when unbidden memories of Yunho and their cozy life together in Japan were the only thing on the forefront of his mind.
Against his better judgment, Changmin sent a final letter to Yunho. He didn't rant or elaborate on harbored resentment and confused feelings...he didn't even mention his failing marriage. He only wrote these simple words:
_His name is Minyun._
_I love you, Yunho._
~*~
Minyun was about year and a half old when Changmin got a call from Jihye.
"Yunho gets released from service tomorrow."
The phone almost fell out of Changmin's grip. He was currently feeding Minyun pureed carrots while Minhee washed the dishes. Unfortunately, most of the carrots were ending up more on Minyun's face and clothes than actually _in_ his mouth.
"Oh. I see. Well, is he coming home?" He asked as casually as possible, but noticed Minhee turn her head back to give him a look.
"Yes. You should come to Gwangju," Jihye suggested. "But give it a few days. Let him get settled."
Changmin pretended to consider it. He knew in his heart he was going to Gwangju - probably tomorrow to check into a hotel and wait - because he _needed_ to see Yunho. "Sure, yeah. That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Jihye."
Immediately after he hung up, Minhee threw the dish towel down on the counter and spun around. "So. Yunho's completed his service. What are you going to do now?"
Buying himself time by wiping Minyun's messy face, Changmin cleared his throat. "Well, I think I might go to Gwangju to visit him. Our manager will probably get in contact with me soon anyway to talk about a comeback. It makes sense to go."
"Really?" Minhee inquired callously. "I would think since he never wrote to you or called or visited during his break, it's a clear sign he _doesn't_ want you to visit him."
Changmin cringed - that was his deepest fear, but to hear it spoken out loud was jarring to both his ears and his heart. "Maybe. But I have business to discuss with him."
"Yes, I'm sure you do." Minhee spun back to face the sink and continued washing the dishes.
They sat in silence as Changmin fed Minyun the rest of the carrots (which was a Herculean task within itself) and then stood to hand Minhee the dirty bowl. As she took it from him, he was given a low and firm warning, "If you go to Gwangju, we're over, Changmin."
Changmin stared at her for a while, long after she looked away. It worried him that he didn't feel much sadness or regret. But... _relief_.
Was he a bad person? A shitty husband? Why wasn't he yelling and demanding she take back those words or that he loved her and wanted to stay with her forever?
Still gazing at his wife, who'd stopped washing and was drying her hands, Changmin's worry morphed into absolutely...nothing. He felt nothing. How could that be?
Their marriage had come to this, though. Partly due to going into it reluctantly because of the pregnancy. But mostly due to the jealousy and suspicion towards Changmin's obsession with Yunho. And, yes, he could admit now it's an obsession. Yunho was a major priority to him...had been and always would be.
All in all, he didn't blame Minhee for giving him an ultimatum. He was simply grateful she was the one to call it.
Mind made up, Changmin promptly left the kitchen to start packing. He's going to Gwangju...and he's taking Minyun with him.
~*~
Changmin drove to Gwangju since it was only a three-hour drive and he had time to kill. He heeded Jihye's advice and gave Yunho a few days to settle down. Using that time to try Gwangju's cuisines and go sightseeing with Minyun in his arms, then retire to his hotel room every night.
On the third day, Changmin was strolling in the park, watching Minyun explore, when his phone rang. It was a lawyer, informing him with a regretful tone that Minhee had filed for divorce.
Changmin rubbed his eyes tiredly, listening to the lawyer explain the court process they were about to undertake. He got so distracted, he lost sight of Minyun. As panic rose, he interjected the lawyer's soliloquy on divorce, "You'll have to call back tomorrow," and hung up to search for his son.
He located him surprisingly quick. Because the boy was only near the pond...
_with Yunho_.
Yunho was actually there - standing by the pond - expressionless as he stared back at Changmin but _oh so handsome_. Just as he remembered him.
So many emotions flinted through him at that pivotal moment, making him want to cry and yell at the same time. _How could you ignore me for so long? How? Do I mean nothing to you?_
But he kept his anger in check and spoke in hopefully a civil tone. Minyun threw a fit - probably for being interrupted from feeding the ducks - and wobbled away. Changmin went after him but insisted on seeing Yunho tomorrow.
_You can't run from me forever, hyung._ Changmin carried his crying son and exited the park.
~*~
Bright and early the next day, he parked in front of Yunho's house and honked his horn. He spotted Jihye at the window, waving at him. He waved back, unsmiling as he waited. | b2568654d13d4d5dbd670203fdb992ed | ['3ce6c3bf90914087ab5c9c1b504a56e6'] | Their three-bedroom, one and half bath apartment is kept fairly clean for housing three bachelors - mostly due to Changmin's nagging - with small homey touches, thanks to Yunho. With an affinity for stuffed animal, Changmin can't walk anywhere without tripping over an insipid stuffed bear or deer or whatever fuck animal Yunho decided to buy on a whim.
Siwon finds the mess cute. Naturally, Changmin has a major problem with it, so he calls Yunho out on it one day.
"Okay, hyung, listen." He starts with Herculean patience. "I get all the scented candles and flower pots but can you please contain the stuffed creatures to your room?"
In reply, Yunho nearly suffocates Changmin with the latest, overgrown white bear he'd brought home. "The animals provide a warm, comfortable feeling to the place. I use them as pillows. They stay."
Shoving the animal off his face, Changmin fixes Yunho with a hard stare. "Hyung, this is the communal area - we share this area - therefore, you need to keep it neutral. You can do whatever the fuck you want in your room, so keep these stupid things in there."
"They're not stupid, take that back!" Yunho genuinely looks offend so Changmin falters before bravely plunging on, "Ooookay then, they are extra and unnecessary - keep them in your room! It's embarrassing when we have guests over!"
Yunho shoots back, "I'm not always in my room like a bear in hibernation, unlike _some_ people. I like to be out here, socializing, therefore, I want the animals _here_."
Changmin's lips curl in a snarl, disregarding Siwon's warning next to him, "Leave it alone, dude, he's gonna win."
"Yunho, this is not up for negotiation. I put up with the inappropriate squeezing of the toothpaste and water all over the fucking bathroom floor, but this is - "
But his stubborn resolve promptly crumbles when Yunho slides up to him, breathing against Changmin's cheek, " _They stay_."
Arousal rushes to his cock, cutting off circulation to his brain, leaving him with only a strong need to obey the sparkling honey scent shooting off Yunho's flesh in waves.
Hanging his head in defeat, Changmin nods mutely. _Adorable. Delicious. HELP._
Placated, Yunho smiles, "Come on, Siwon, let's go pick up the take-out." dragging the white bear with him.
Siwon hops up from the couch and follows Yunho out.
Pursing his lips, Changmin ponders what the hell happened.
In their little household, Changmin is in charge of cooking. Never should Siwon or Yunho be allowed in a kitchen; he learns that the hard way when an attempt to make home-made pizza turned into a war zone of blown up pots and charcoaled dough for pizza.
Not that he's an expert cook by any means, but he has more sense in following a recipe than either one of his friends given his meticulous nature.
Yunho glides into the kitchen most evenings after his late-afternoon class and hops around Changmin as he cooks. It's endearing as much as it is frustrating.
"Let me help!"
As always, Changmin gives in with strict instructions. But today he stands behind Yunho to show him how to stir the sauce so he doesn't make a mess.
"How was class?"
Yawning, Yunho mumbles as he stirs with Changmin's guidance, "Boring, but the professor tries, I'll give him that. I have to read like a hundred pages by tomorrow, though, which sucks!"
Changmin hums in sympathy. "How about I finish this pasta sauce and bring dinner to your room? You can eat and read...I can help you and read some of it out loud, if you want."
Like a deflated balloon, Yunho sinks back into his chest. "You're my lifesaver..." Then, comments on the hardness of Changmin's chest. "You and Siwon work out too much. You're making me insecure."
With a wistful inhale of the honeysuckle scent clinging to Yunho's tender neck, Changmin breathes, "You're perfect. But if you're that distraught, come with us."
He suppresses a smirk as Yunho wiggles free, stammering something unintelligible as he exists the kitchen.
He taunts loudly, "You could spot for me, hyung!"
"I don't think so...I'll be in my room!"
Changmin grins and goes back to stirring. A few minutes later, Siwon strolls in to grab a cola from the fridge. "Where's Yunho?"
"In his room."
When Siwon makes a move to head in that way, Changmin stops him. "I'm going in there to give him dinner...just stay here and have your plate."
Siwon gives him a knowing stare and - for the first time - addresses the elephant in the room. "You're in deep, aren't you?"
Not even bothering to feign ignorance, Changmin hisses, "As if you're not." He grabs a plate and begins loading it with food for Yunho.
Siwon huffs, "You know he asks _me_ to help him with his heat every month, right?"
Once the plate is full enough, Changmin grabs a fork and shoves the drawer shut, causing Siwon to jump. "Do you kiss him like I did in the locker room?"
Siwon snaps his mouth shut. Changmin smile grimly and spits back over his shoulder, "Don't fuck with me. I'm an alpha - thus, I can get Yunho off better than you. He knows it and you know it. But I'm not gonna do anything about it unless he asks me to. And one day, he might."
Changmin spends the rest of the night in Yunho's room - watching him eat, helping him read his text, and telling him small anecdotes till they both fall asleep in exhaustion.
* * *
Yunho's favorite thing about living with Siwon and Changmin is feeling safe and at home. He knows these two boys will do anything for him; in some ways, he's aware he has both guys by the balls, but Siwon and Changmin seem content with the situation as far as he can tell, and do nothing to rectify the imbalance of power. Perfectly content to let Yunho lead. |
9da2c05e2f0248a0b92f417b6eec163d | ['3cf4b5ec4eda4e39aca0f5240f51871d'] | "How do you know my favorite?" Sephiroth countered with a single raised brow, only to be answered with a shy chuckle from Cloud.
"It's silly." There was a bashful and slightly embarrassed look on the blonde's face now. Sephiroth found himself distracted for a moment, enjoying how naturally expressive the younger man was.
"You asked Zackary?" Zack was the Third's mentor and they spent a lot of time together, it made sense. Seph didn't put it past the other First to try and feed Cloud information like that since they started dating.
Cloud shook his head, suddenly very interested in the cardboard sleeve around his own to-go cup.
"You asked Angeal or Genesis?" Less likely, but not out of the question.
Another gentle shake of the head that made the spikes of blonde hair bounce atop Cloud's head. Sephiroth wondered how it would feel to run his bare hands through them; wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
"You asked my secretary?" It was a stretch but Sephiroth was getting tired of this game quickly.
"No. It's dumb.... just trust me?" Cloud pleaded gently.
"I'll decide whether it's .... dumb or not." Sephiroth replied straight faced and Cloud huffed, looking up from his own cup with a disbelieving look.
"I know your favorite order because-Iknowitfromoneofourpastlivestogether."
Sephiroth blinked, trying to process the mumbled mash of words that came from the blonde's mouth. Cloud's face was incredibly red now and it wasn't from the chilly winter air. The general couldn't help the small upturn of his lips, it was endearing that the blonde would believe in something like past lives or fate. It was cute, something that Sephiroth could indulge.
"Have a good night Cloud." When the blonde looked up at him, Spehiroth leaned down and brushed their chilled lips together in a small chaste kiss. "And thank you for remembering my favorite."
"You're welcome... Goodnight Seph." Cloud replied, smile growing on his face as they parted and he turned to step into his building.
Sephiroth started the walk back to his own apartment on the other side of the Shinra base, finally taking a sip of his now cold drink.
It made him pause, even ice cold, it was the best coffee he'd ever had.
Sephiroth finished the entire thing before making it back to his building. | 0a2c0e2bab684c07b30a5d1c4eeb83ec | ['3cf4b5ec4eda4e39aca0f5240f51871d'] | So there Sepiroth sat alone, on Christmas eve in their apartment. The General hadn't bothered setting up any of the meager decorations they had accumulated over their few years they had been together. They had both been so busy before Cloud left on his mission and Sephiroth hadn't been in the mood at all the last few days he'd had off. Without his little ray of sunshine around Sephiroth was having nothing to do with the holidays. He had spent the night with the door to the apartment locked, the lights off and his phone on silent. Genesis and Zack had been blowing up his phone with texts and calls, trying to get him to come and join them and the whole gang was having.
Maybe he was being childish, but it didn't feel right to be out drinking and over eating and sharing in all the holiday cheer, not when his lover was stuck at the top of the world.
Sephiroth was sprawled out across Cloud's side of the bed, with Cloud's over stuffed chocobo under his elbow and a glass of the blonde's favorite whiskey. He hated the drink usually but it made him feel closer to Cloud at that moment. Silly but the General didn't give a fuck.
He sipped his drink, totally not while cuddling the stuffed chocobo while scrolling through his messages and deleting them.
He almost dropped his drink when his phone flashed brightly, Cloud's beautiful grin and baby blue eyes appearing on his screen.
Sephiroth answered the call without hesitation. "Baby, why are you up so early?" The crater was a couple hours ahead of Midgar.
"Cut the shit you sulking man-child." His ray of sunshine's sweet voice.
"I've been missing you too baby."
"Don't 'baby' me," Sephiroth could almost hear Cloud's teeth chattering over the line. Cloud was cute when he was mad, his Mountain accent always got thicker. "I have a million damn messages on my phone from all of our friends. They're worried about you Seph. You've been ignoring everyone, and you're alone on Christmas eve even though everyone invited you to join them."
Sephiroth sighed, even if his lover was scolding him, it just made him happy to hear Cloud's voice.
"I'm up here in the middle of frozen hell, freezing my ass off. Meanwhile you're home for Christmas with all of our friends there to keep you company and you're off sulking in our apartment by yourself... did you even put that dumb fake tree up that we bought last year? "
"No," Sephiroth didn't bother to lie, "Didn't feel right without you."
It was Cloud's turn to sigh over the phone, "Child... how did you function before you met me?"
"I was on autopilot before we met."
"Cute."
"I miss you."
"I miss you too, Happy Christmas Seph." Cloud said gently, his voice made it quite clear that he was hurting just as much as Sephiroth was. The difference was that Cloud didn't have the time to be selfish and act like a child, to pout alone in a comfy warm apartment, to get drunk and hopefully pass out. Cloud had to work, fight every day he was up there to save lives and keep people safe.
"I'm an asshat, Happy Christmas baby." And Cloud laughed.
"Put that ugly little tree up, put the presents under it, I hid yours in the hall closet behind all the extra sheets. I'll be home for new years, another squad is on their way to relieve us soon. We'll have our holiday when I get back you big baby."
"I love you."
"Love you too, I gotta go, I'm on watch soon. I'll call when I know which day for sure I'm flying home."
5. Chocobo Check-Up
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Cloud's first Mako treatment.
Cloud had never felt so anxious in his life, not even when he had gone on his first date with Sephiroth. Though, that hadn't been much of a date...
Today was different, he had been promoted to a Third Class SOLDIER not one week ago. His pre-mako tests had come back good, he had the green light to start his first wave of treatments. He'd receive does weekly until the mako in his blood was at a consist third class level. Everyone reacted differently to the first few treatments, so he was told. Mostly it felt like having the flu for two to three days. Cloud wasn't worried about that, he could handle it.
No, the worrying part was that Sephiroth was supposed to meet him ten minutes ago to be with him during the first injection. After injections SOLDIERS required twenty-four hours of super vision by a follow SOLDIER, to make sure everything all right as well to be there in case there was a bad reaction. It was rare, but sometimes it happened.
Naturally, Cloud's boyfriend had offered to look after him, they had just moved in together a few weeks ago, it made sense.
So where the fuck was he?
Cloud grumbled under his breath as he paced back and forth in the hall. He was getting anxious, his appointment was in a few short minutes and Sephiroth wasn't answering any of his calls or messages. This was important, the General had assured Cloud that he had cleared his schedule to be here for him.
The door to the clinic opened in front of him and Cloud froze up, one of the doctors called to him. It was time.
"My watcher isn't here, he's running a little late."
"Five more minutes and we'll call one of the volunteers to come and look after you." |
f16ad098f0dc4d24bdae6a6102667d90 | ['3d3c3ad5fe98449ca40b03ebf0022867'] |
1. The Beginning Of Something New
Jimin sat still on the opposite side of the room far from Namjoon. He had just failed an important mission and now he had to do the whole thing over, which was a pain in the ass to do.
J-hope sat next to Jimin, trying to make him smile with his dumb jokes while Yoongi glared holes into Jimin. Jungkook and Tae were chatting with Jin while Jin, at the same time, tried to make small talk with Namjoon.
“What are we going to do now? We really needed that money,”
Namjoon glanced at Jimin as he said the last line. Jin smacked Namjoons arm, as if letting him know to leave the youngster alone. Jimin sat there silent until he spoke up, ashamed.
“I’m sorry-“
“Sorry my ass! Sorry doesn’t help the current situation!”
Namjoon rose his voice, the room seemed to freeze, realizing that things were starting to become tense.
“I do not want to see you or want you near me until you get what we need!”
Namjoon rose up from the seat he was sitting in and stalked off towards the right where his room was. Tae and Jungkook stared after him before turning to Jimin and shrugging.
“I guess today is not your lucky day,” J-hope laughed nervously at his words. Jin came over to the red haired boy and patted him on his shoulders as if to calm him down.
“It’s fine, we’ll help if-“
“Don’t bother, I’ll do it myself.”
Jimin coldly stood up and walked towards the door that lead out of their “house”. The door squeaked behind him as he left the five boy sitting in the living room in silence. “He’s colder than usual, don’t you think Tae?’
Tae nodded at J-hopes words and walked towards his room that lay 3 doors down from Namjoon’s. Jin got up from where Jimin once sat and made his way into the kitchen.
“What are you going to make for supper,” Jungkook asked Jin whom was fiddling with the rusted stove and was trying to figure out how to make it work.
“I’m not sure, probably just some left overs from the night before if this thing doesn’t start.” Jin threw his hand up in defeat and walked away from the stove. A loud bang followed by steps made the four boys turn their heads. Jimin came strolling into the living room a second later clenching a wad of cash in his right hand.
“I did what Namjoon asked.”
Jimin flopped onto the leather couch next to J-hope and started counting the money. “How much is there?”, J-hope asked hopeful.
“Nothing much, just trash money..Aish, that asshole!”
Jimin stood up and walked over to the hallway and stopped in front of the first door.
“Namjoon!”, Jimin yelled while knocking harshly on the wooden door. A minute passed before a worn out looking Namjoon opened the dented entrance.
“What? Didn’t I tell you not to come ne-“
“I did what you wanted, heres your fucking cash”, Jimin shoved the money into the green haired boys hand before lumbering down the hall to his room. Namjoon rubbed the back of his head in discomfort, it wasn’t like Jimin to get angry so easily. He grumbled and shut his door behind him before walking into the living room where he was greeted with four boy’s with owl like eyes.
“So..whats for dinner?”, Namjoon turned to Jin with a slightly forced smile on his face. Jin looked at him before turning away cooly and shuffling farther away. Namjoon squinted his eyes in confusion, Jin was usually smily and kind.
“What did I do?”, Jin looked up from his spot at the stove and exhaled.
“Your not acting your age, getting angry over a mere mistake, what are you thinking?!” Namjoon looked at Jin in disbelief, yes indeed he was usually bright but that didn’t mean he was always in a good mood.
“He made a mis-“
“He corrected it and yet your still acting all high and mighty!”
Namjoon snorted in annoyance, this Hyung was getting on his nerves.
“I am the leader!”
“Then start acting like one and set a good example!”
“Your acting like a hopeless mother,” Jin narrowed his eyes at Namjoons comment.
“You take that back, just because I’m standing up for the rest of the group doesn’t mean you can put me down.” Jin clenched his hand, his knuckles turning white before he turned around and went back to slaving over the stove.
“Your even cooking and feeding them when they should be able to go out and get-“ Jin snapped and turned around, grabbing Namjoons arm and throwing his against the wall, thus’ cutting off his sentence.
“They don’t have to but I wouldn’t mind you doing so, I think that would be best.”
Namjoon clicked his tongue whilst throwing Jin off and dusting his shirt, glaring at him as he did so.
“Fine.” Namjoon grabbed a jacket off the nearby coat hanger to his left and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards the door that led outside. Someone opened the door in front of him making Namjoon Jump back in time to avoid it.
“Who is in-“
Jimin appeared before him, shutting his door, oblivious to the furious Namjoon behind him.
“Jimin,” Jimin froze and tried duck back into his room but failed when a hand tossed him back.
“Look I brought you your cash, you can leave-“, Namjoon growled at him before throwing him aside.
“That cash is fucking nothing! Where did you get it?”
“I got it by doing your job, I got it from the target!” Namjoon snarled at his comment and ran his fingers through his hair.
“That is a lie! I was told through nearby allied gangs that there was a prize with that man!” | 99d10527a9f5486598fa13bd25d79340 | ['3d3c3ad5fe98449ca40b03ebf0022867'] | I turned around on my heels, not caring about the joint stick digging into my back. A semi short guy stood behind me, his red jacket and blue hair standing out from the mass of swarming people. His eyes swam with judgement and his smirk was slightly off settling. “Do I know you?”
The guy tilted his head to the left, his eyes scanning my body.
“Nah, not unless you know me,” his words hung in the air, it seemed to pierce through me.
“No I don’t know you..”
The guys brown orbs stopped roaming and stared me straight in the eyes, his lips curling up in distaste. “This is why I hate women,” I could no longer take his sharp gaze and looked away, finding the ground more interesting. From the corner of my eyes I could see hims bring his hand up and awkwardly rub the back of his head.
“You know me, right,” I bit the inside of my cheeks to calm down my nerves.
“Should I know you?,”I heard shuffling in reply.
“Its Min Yoongi.”
I froze, this guy was in the file that my father had, Min Yoongi was known to have anger issues and take it out on innocent people. I couldn’t help but give a little whimper at the thought of him wringing my neck.
“It seems that you do know me,” I looked up to see him smirking in triumph.
“My friend will be coming back.”
“I think he’s too comfortable in the bathroom,” my heart almost stopped at his words, ‘Frick..
“Did you…?”
“No, my buddy did.”
I blinked, trying to come up with a way to get away from the psycho and find Alex. “The janitors clean the bathrooms, plus there are pedestrians.”
“Thats fine.”
‘Ugh, how do I find Alex?’
“Not very talkative for someone who started a conversation.”
‘Come on..’
I slide my hands down my hips slowly, trying to find the hidden weapon in its holster. The cool (cold) patterns spiraled underneath my fingers until I found the handle of the gun that I had stolen the night before.
“You really don’t think I’m a moron do you?” I ignored his words even though I knew what he ment. He was giving me a warning.
“I never said anything about you being a moron, did I?” My hand slowly released the gun from its prison that held it fast.
“Your treating me as if I don’t have eyes.” I suddenly took the weapon out of the holster and waved it around for everyone to see, the blue haired guy glared from across of me.
“You little piece of-“
“Everybody get down or I shoot!,” I originally planned for everybody to clear the path my hitting the deck but either or was better. People had taken notice to the gun and instantly started to run and panic. The creepy guy got shoved back, father away from me, and lay pressed against a different console, his expression obviously angry. I took the chance to book it and found myself running towards the mens bathroom. My shoes brushed against the colorful carpet below, my breath slowed as I reached the entrance of the bathroom. I stopped and listen to see if I could hear anybody talking. My eyes widened as I heard Alex’s voice but it seemed like he wasn’t alone judging from the gruff voices that almost matched Min Yoongi’s. I wasn’t aware of the person behind me until I took notice to shadow that lay before me.
“This is why I hate women..”
I froze, I knew this voice even though I just met the person today. Numbers of shivers ran down my back before I scanned the surroundings, looking for a weapon or an exit. “Your not looking for an exit are you?,” I finally realized that I still had my gun next to my hip. I shoved my hands downward towards my right leg but was in shock when my fingers couldn’t find the metal figure.
“Your one sneaky bitch, aren’t cha’?”
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder causing me to struggle underneath it. The weight was ten times heavier then the stone of fear that lay in the pit of my stomach. “Let me go!” I shouted, allowing the words bounce of the tile walls in chance of people coming to help.
“Shouting won’t do, you better calm yourself before I- Ack!” I shoved my elbow backwards with the hope of it connecting with his stomach. His hand no longer lay on my shoulder and I found myself rushing forwards, farther into the bathroom. My shoes clapped against the floor and my breath hitched as I rounded the corner. I stopped and looked around for my brown haired friend whom of which was no where.
“Alex?” I got no reply from the seventeen year old. There was nothing nor anybody in there except a few stalls, two of which were closed.
“Alex are you in one of these? Alex..” I tapped on one of the stalls, the chances of Yoongi being near growing stronger by each passing minute.
“Do you ever wonder why criminals keep a low profile, Bitch?” My eyes widened as I turned around to only find myself inches away from the navy haired man. His eyes gleamed with hatred and his face lay emotionless. My breath hitched as I took the word into heart. Suddenly memories flew into my mind, memories of the past that were buried until he said that single word. A shudder conversed through my body, my hand now gripping the wall.
“Are you scared of me now? Serves you right you fuck.”
—Flash Back— |
947f4575efeb4cd9be2c74d475a82fc9 | ['3d4b73f97c2746999526898100d0b023'] | "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea". Kostya disagreed, clasping his sweaty palm and dragging him towards his bedroom. He kicked some dirty washing out of the way as the two men, Ashton's brother and Kostya, stumbled into the relatively clean room. He pushed and pinned Noah down on the sheet covers. Kostya's already protruding lump was visible underneath his boxer shorts. Noah lied, unable to move.
Noah stayed there amazed at the enthusiasm and before he knew it, Kostya had already started pulling his pallid white T above his head.
Noah's playful side started to show through as Kostya played around with his chest, leaving a trail of kisses from his neck down below his waistline.
"Mmmm", Noah mumbled through whimpers. He could hear his heavy breathing, letting him know that he is as excited as Kostya was, as he started to unbuckle his belt.
A string of muffled words escaped Noah's lips, his hips involuntarily bucking forward in search for some friction. Noah looked up on his companion working his belt, Kostya's hands popping the button of his pants and undoing the zip, making him grunt in approval. Noah already felt his excitement through the layers of clothing and his mind went a little fuzzy at what was happening.
Kostya felt a strong arm around his back and was suddenly being pulled towards the large bed perched against the furthest wall. Before he knew, Noah was on top in nothing but his boxers with a knee between his thighs, his lips moving urgently down Kostya's chest, trailing kisses all the way down.
Their mouths reconnect, tongues moving rapidly as Kostya's hands hold Noah's hips firmly in place, his crotch grinding down against his managers brother. When he thought of it that way...
"You're okay?" he asks against Noah's lips, his voice raspy, as he moves his hips against his in one long, slow motion.
"God yes, fuck," Noah moaned, biting down on his lip, bucking the hips up to meet his. Kostya ran his thumb across where his teeth had just been, staring with hooded eyes. He muttered a word in Russian, moving his gaze to meet Noah's. He repeated the words, running his thumb back over his lip.
"Ready?" he asks, his breath hot against Noah's skin.
"Ugh," Noah exclaimed a little surprised by the warmth of his breath.
Kostya lowered his hand to run his own thumb over Noah's lips. Noah grabbed hold of Kostya and thrust him onto his back.
"Ugh," Noah repeated, seemingly mesmerized by the sudden commotion. He repeated the groan once more, letting his tongue trace the outline of Kostya's lips before moving to his ear. He gently sucks the earlobe between his lips, letting the tip of his tongue run over it.
With his mouth hovering right above Kostya's ear, he whispers a word, making a small whimper escape Kostya's mouth. Having heard what he had said, Kostya whispered back into his ear, "Fuck me"
Noah placed a trail of kisses down his neck. "Mmmm"
Kostya closed his eyes tight, reveling in the sensation of his hot breath against his skin.
"Come on! Do it already!” he pleaded to Noah, immediately followed by a gasp as he moved further down, his lips now around Kostya’s nipple, the tip of his tongue drawing circles around it.
He hovered his head above Kostya’s chest and licked a long patch across his nipple, making one hand fly into his hair.
"Hm?" he hummed as he licked again; a hand tightened the grip in his hair at the sensation.
Kostya lied helplessly under the weight of Noah's firm body, unable to move.
"Please", Kostya begged again, his heart racing at the thought of what Noah was about to do.
2500 words | 4d8da9df749043e1af9bde572725097c | ['3d4b73f97c2746999526898100d0b023'] |
The Truth Hurts
**Author's Note:**
> Hi guys! My name is Makayla. This is my first work so please be considerate and give feedback on this. I would really appreciate it. Thanks everyone!
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> After a private affair with his boss, Kostya finds himself closer than ever with her little brother, Noah. Anything could happen.
There he stood, darker than ever. His black fringe covered the misty eyes of the male figure.
"Kostya! There you are," a young woman emerged from the darkness, a glimpse of despair in her bold, brown eyes. Kostya noticed the women appear and shuffled uncomfortably against the cold, brick wall.
"Ashton," he replied, grasping the bricks to sturdy himself. Ashton startled him when she gave him a playful push firmly against the wall. Kostya's eyes widened as Ashton brushed her pallid lips against his. Her gentle touch was all that he needed to turn him on. Kostya returned the kiss, clasping her waist. He pulled away from Ashton, an inquisitive look on his round face. Her stare was enough to give him shivers.
"What's wrong?" Her harsh voice resonated around the empty alleyway.
"It's just...what happens if someone sees us?" Kostya paused, staring at Ashton. Her eyes glistened back at him and she grinned.
"Well..." She stopped and learnt towards him. Kostya didn't pull back as she brushed her lips against his once more. His words were muffled as he kissed her back, passionately.
Kostya followed her gaze as she knelt down on the hard gravel track, her entreating eyes locked on his.
"We can't," he argued, but it was already too late. The intruding lump beneath his pants was visible. In the moonlit alleyway, the light somehow illuminated their pallid faces. Kostya was surprised by how determined Ashton really was.
She fumbled with his zipper in the minimal amount of light that found its way through the misty clouds. Kostya quivered as she pulled his dick from out beneath his pants. It was already hard. Kostya could feel his cheeks turn hot.
"Mmmm," Ashton mumbled under her breath, swirling her tongue around the tip. Kostya flung his hands into her long brown hair, his head hard against the red brick wall. Kostya watched as she played with the tip, constantly placing it in her mouth and down her throat. He loved when Ashton choked after it went in a little too far.
"Fuck yeah Ashton!" He could feel his dick twitch in her mouth. Kostya's voice turned into screams as he came on her face.
"Ugghh," he groaned, his firm grip in Ashton's hair wrenched her head back.
Moments later, Kostya returned home. Both his hands and his head ached.
“Did that really happen?” Kostya questioned, grasping the doorhandle firmly in his hand. He sighed at the thought of Ashton down on the ground. The way she moved. The way her mouth hollowed around his dick. Kostya realized he was drooling again.
The dull sky was pitch-black and lined with the constant glisten of the stars out his large window. Kostya slouched on the black leather couch situated in the corner of the room, casually sinking into the cushions with each movement. He sat there for a minute when the realization hit him. What had he done? He fucked his own manager.
'Ashton'. Kostya repeated her name slowly under his breath. 'Ashton'.
The dim light shone through Kostya's bedroom window where the the curtains were drawn. He sat on the edge of his tucked bed to put on his shoes. Untidily sprawled out across the floor, with just the toes peering out from beneath his bedspread, were three pairs.
Kostya habituated immediately towards his trainers before rethinking his decision and choosing his black dress shoes instead. Not so long ago he wouldn't have had a choice; he'd never even seen them before until he was introduced to this life as an artist. A musician. As he pulled them onto his bare feet, there was a heavy thud on his bedroom door.
Kostya immediately thought of Ashton and jumped to his feet. The thumping at the door had died down but it was still heedfully there. He swung open his door only to see Ashton's younger brother, Noah as he hadn't expected.
"Sorry. I'm Noah. Is Ashton here? I can't find her anywhere". Kostya's mouth dropped open at the sight of this younger boy. He grasped the door open for him not taking his eyes of Noah's beautiful brown hair. Those bold blue eyes.
He trooped in. This was something Kostya was not accustomed to. Another male... in his house. Noah took a step forward followed by another. The door slammed shut behind him revealing the nervous, shy side of the boy.
Kostya stared out the open window.
"So...", he began, clasping the door handle. Noah followed his gaze. "Do you want a drink?" Kostya was already at the fridge before his visitor had a chance to respond. Noah watched helplessly as he grabbed a champagne bottle from the bottom drawer.
"Actually...", Noah started. "I don't drink". Kostya didn't look surprised by this statement but he refused to take no for an answer.
"Come on", Kostya urged, shoving the glass towards him. Noah held back re-thinking his decision.
"I'm going to regret this".
Kostya smiled to himself as he led Noah back over to the tattered couch. They both slouched down, a wine glass firmly held in their hands.
Kostya stared at Noah while he downed the champagne in one mouthful.
"Ugh", Noah replied with a loud sigh as Kostya poured some more. They clinked their glasses together before downing it again.
Many drinks later, Noah was having second thoughts |
e8acb26eebd941b8b56f26f06c640f6a | ['3d80ba1b206648f1a342e4d07801aa60'] | It was the day before Valentine's day at school and Zayn had asked his mum if he could get some art supplies to make Liam a card. Zayn's mum lifted an eyebrow at him. "What, mum?" Zayn said confused. "You wanna give Liam, a boy, a card?" Zayn's mum found it a bit funny, but rather cute. "Yea, so?" Zayn shrugged. "Alright, honey." She said and took Zayn up to the store to get his supplies.
Zayn had made Liam a pink card with a huge heart in the middle that said "Happy Valentine's day, Li" in it (with the help of his mum, of course.) And Zayn had sprinkled silver glitter all around the card. "Do you think he'll like it, mum?" Zayn asked with his eyes all big and wide with concern. "He'll love it, Zayn." "I think so, too." Zayn smiled.
Zayn also had his mum make two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the shape of hearts, because tomorrow was valentines day of course. Zayn's mum smiled and continued to shape the sandwiches.
***
Today was Valentine's day and all four of the second grade classes were coming together as one big class. Zayn was excited to give Liam his masterpiece of a card. Zayn walked into class and saw Liam sitting at his table alone, with his backpack on top of the seat beside him. Zayn waved at Liam and Liam smiled so wide, Zayn was sure it would've split his face in two.
"Happy Valentine's day, Zee." Liam smiled. "You too" Zayn said as he sat beside Liam.
Their teachers had said it was time for them to exchange gifts and cards with their class mates and Zayn could barely sit still. When the teacher finished speaking, Zayn pulled out his back pack and started digging through it. He finally found a bright pink card and two lunch bags. He took out the card and gave it to Liam. Liam's jaw dropped as he scanned the card. He then smiled and gave Zayn a hug.
"Hold on." he told Zayn as he got out his backpack. Liam had pulled out a blue card with super hero and heart stickers all over it. And in messy Liam handwriting "Happy Valentine's day, Zaynie." Zayn wanted to cry because it was so nice.
Zayn gave Liam a huge hug that lasted for a pretty long time. "Thanks, Liam." Zayn whispered. "Thank you, too" Liam whispered back. They pulled back and Zayn took out his brown paper bag. He reached his hand in and grabbed two heart shaped peanut butter and jelly's. He slid the one to Liam and unwrapped his own.
"Peanut butter and jelly is for kids." Liam argued. Zayn shook his head. "Just eat it." Liam laughed and unwrapped his heart shaped sandwich. He hummed in delight as he bit into it. Zayn smiled with a mouthful and took another bite.
"I like this sandwich." Liam said. "Yea, me too." Zayn agreed. After a few minutes of chewing, Zayn broke the silence. "Liam?" Zayn said looking down and his card Liam made him. "Yea, Zayn?" Liam looked at Zayn. "I like you." Zayn blurted out. Liam tilted his head. "Ok?" He laughed. "Like-Like" Zayn corrected. "Oh" Liam looked down at the card Zayn made him. "I like-like you too, Zayn." He smiled.
"Really?" Zayn said a little overly excited. Liam nodded. "Cool." Zayn said and they continued eating their sandwiches.
**Author's Note:**
> I know its short, and I know it sucks but I wanted to make it so I hope you enjoyed it. | 629d0585f9c5429495cff2cb24abbc1e | ['3d80ba1b206648f1a342e4d07801aa60'] | Zayn has his head propped up on the counter with his arm and he's smiling absently. Liam smiles back and Zayn can't take his eyes off of Liam. The way he talks so fluently about the things he loves and just the smile on his face is so...real.
Zayn snaps himself out of it and takes out his wallet when another man comes from the register next to Liam's. "Payne! Quit your flirting and get to work! You knob." the man (also in an elf costume, with tights possibly way too tight for him, Zayn thinks as he cringes in his head.) "Sorry, Nick, but I wasn't-." "Work." Nick says and switches shifts with another worker.
"That'll be 42.50 pounds, mate." mumbles Liam as he hands Zayn the bag of toys. Zayn takes out /Louis'/ card and swipes it. Liam rips his recipe out of the register and hands it to Zayn. Zayn smiles, because Liam's embarrassment is the cutest thing ever, and Liam smiles back. "Have a good day, Liam." Zayn says ans he grabs his things and heads out of the door. "You too." Liam says.
~o~
"You didn't get your sisters' gift," Louis frowned as Zayn walked through the door with the bag of toys. "Goin' back tomorrow." Zayn mumbles through a smile.
"You met someone." Louis lean against the wall and smiles. Zayn plops himself on their couch and flickers through the television. He shrugs and settles for some reality show about american models. Louis lets out a little 'hmmph' and gets up from his spot on the wall. Zayn's view of the television is now being blocked by a flustered Lou with his arms crossed. "You aren't as great of a window as you think you are, Louis."
"Zayn." Louis sounds annoyed that Zayn is ignoring him. Zayn is smiling at this point. "Yes, Lou?" "Who is he?" Zayn smiles even wider thinking about Liam. "Met him at the toy shop." Zayn says smiling and fidgeting with his hands. "Tell me about him." Louis shuts the television off and takes a seat next to Zayn. And so Zayn does tell him.
"He's got the cutest and biggest brown eyes ever, Louis." Zayn is smiling so hard that Louis is sure it'll splint in two. "And his smile is so cute. His eyes scrunch up and he looks so warm and it's adorable. Oh my god, Louis. He was wearing tights. Tights, Lou. Oh, and he loves batman. Told me 'bout him. And he's just so-perfect." Zayn sounds so excited when he's talking about Liam. Louis pats Zayn on the shoulder and sighs.
"Young Love." Louis shakes his head as he gets up to make some food. "Is Harry coming over for dinner?" Zayn turns his body in the couch so he's facing the kitchen to talk to Louis. Louis let's out a small groan. "Nope. He's got to work Niall's shift at the pub." Louis has a small frown on his face. "Young Love." Zayn mocks.
"You gonna talk to that boy tomorrow?" Louis fixes himself a sand which and a glass of wine and walks back over to the couch. "'Course! I can't let him go, man. Perfect, I tell you." Zayn steals a bite out of Louis' sand which and Louis nods. "Good. Get his number, mate. Bring him over. Date him. Hell, have sex with him and put a ring on that. Don't care. Just want you to be happy." Louis shakes Zayn's shoulder again.
These are the times Zayn is glad to have Louis as his best friend. Louis can be an absolute goof when he wanted to, but he sure as hell can make a good cup of tea and cheer Zayn up in the worst situations. Even when Zayn lost his job last winter and couldn't find another. Louis made sure they had extra pizza and ice cream stored in the fridge, along with magazine ads for local business in need of emploment.
Zayn laughed and the two lie sprawled out onto the couch watching Cake Boss and throwing pieces of bread at each other.
~o~
Zayn walked into the toy shop again the next morning, setting off that same bell. When he'd arrived, Liam wasn't at the register. Zayn continued down the store's isles, thinking it was juts Liam's break. He picked out some 'Hair & Makeup Kit' and a CD for Waliyha and some sort of doll that came with a movie that Safaa has been raving about.
Zayn wandered around for a bit to waste a little time. His hands were a bit shakey and his stomach aching with nerves as he shook away the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Liam.
After ten minutes being wasted in the music section, in which he decided he'd buy the Arctic Monkeys CD, he figures he should check out. Zayn head back up to the front to go pay but find that Liam still isn't there. Panic shoots through Zayn as the thought of Liam avoiding him flood his head. Then he sees the purple haired girl, Perrie, from yesterday.
"You're back." She raises an eyebrow. "Um, yea. Had to gift shop for my siblings, ya'know?" Perrie only slowly nods and turns a little to her left. "I'll go get Liam." She sighs with a smile. "Alright-wait what?" Zayn grabs her arm before she can leave. "Oh, shut up,. Just trust me. I know you two like each other." Perrie says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Zayn just stares at her, so she turns to the 'Employees Only' office. Zayns stands by another cash register waiting until a certain girl and an even greater boy walks out that door towards Zayn. |
4736cde9822647ddbd178385407a702a | ['3d9f8497a2a24c2a917ac99492ab4517'] | Stiles nosed along Derek's stubbled jaw. The sting of the coarse hair against his cheek made him feel alive. "We're going to die in here."
"No, we're not," Derek said. Twisting around to where Stiles guessed the entrance once was, Derek started to knock at the wall of stones with the butt of his whip.
"Stop!" Stiles screamed, tugged at Derek's arm as a cascade of rocks began to fill in the little space they had. "Fuck, stop!"
"I know what I'm doing!" Derek's voice cracked. From the little Stiles could see in the darkness, his eyes were wild and panicked.
"Hey." Stiles cupped Derek's cheeks, forcing him to turn away from the rubble. "Hey. It's okay." Growing up as Stiles did, he knew there really were worse ways to die. Falling asleep from lack of oxygen topped his list of most hoped for.
Derek inhaled slowly and nodded like he understood. But then with a grin, he pecked Stiles' lips with a quick kiss.
"We aren't going to die in here, Stiles," Derek said, with a sudden air of confidence. He turned back to work at the rocks -- less frantic now, but just as determined. "Your father would kill me for that."
Rocks and dust were everywhere as Derek attacked the wall. "Fuck it," Stiles muttered as he shifted forward to help. Dying while frantically trying to save his own life was also on his list of favorites.
"It's going to cave in," Stiles said, though he didn't stop digging his fingers into the rocks and trying to push them out of the way.
"Shh." Derek stopped for a moment, resting his hand on Stiles'.
Stiles hissed, the burn of the scrapes along his knuckles and cracked fingernails so much worse once he had no distraction. "What do you hear?"
In answer, Derek grinned and started hammering the butt of his whip against the rocks again. Stiles wondered if he was delirious from rarified air. Derek grunted and gave one final two-handed shove and the rubble fell _outward_.
"Oh my God!" Stiles scrambled to lend a hand, laughing loudly at the stream of light poking through the growing hole.
A muffled "Stiles!" filtered through.
"Oh my God, Dad!" Stiles laughed again, not even embarrassed at how shaky his voice came out. "Dad! We're here." It was only when hope started flooding back to him that he'd realized he'd given up, that he'd honestly thought he'd never see his father again, and he had to stop digging to wipe at his cheeks.
It took another hour to get them out, but the hug his father gave him as he stumbled through the debris made him forget the scraped knuckles and bruised fingers.
His dad held him for a long time, too grateful that his son was alive to notice the stubble burn under the layer of dirt on Stiles' cheeks.
* * *
They managed to hide what had happened between them for a few months. The rockslide unveiled a possible new Mayan site to be excavated and his father was consumed with documenting every aspect before the hordes of archeologists descended.
It left plenty of time for Derek and Stiles to steal private moments without being noticed.
As it often went, the easier it got, the less careful they became.
One night after his dad bid them both goodnight and retired into his tent, Stiles and Derek were left alone under the stars. The flicker of the campfire and the music of the crickets made it all too easy to forget what they were risking.
The moment he heard the first snore, Stiles whispered, "Finally," and he peeled off his shirt.
"Stiles," Derek said, eyes darting to his father's tent. "The Sheriff--"
"The 'Sheriff' had too much wine tonight. He's out until morning. He always is once he starts snoring." Stiles climbed into Derek's lap, kissing away his complaints.
"You're going to get me killed one day."
"Not today." He wriggled, feeling Derek's interest pressed against his ass. Maybe tonight they could finally fuck. There had been too many rushed handjobs lately, never the opportunity to take their time.
Stiles pulled off Derek's fedora and placed it on his own head. Tilting it to the left ear and running his fingers along the brim like Derek did when he was lost in thought, he gave Derek a sassy wink.
Derek shook his head with one-sided smirk. "Suits you," he said, but he took it off anyway and tossed it by his satchel.
"Some day I'll walk around camp wearing nothing but your damn hat."
"Not going to happen." Derek kissed his shoulder, sucking for a moment, but careful not to mark. "God, Stiles. You're so…"
"Sexy?"
"Ridiculous," Derek decided, nipping Stiles just below the ear. Derek's hands slipped beneath his waistband and into the back of his jeans, squeezing his ass.
Stiles' hips jerked forward, grinding until he found the friction enough to send sparks through him. With a low moan, Derek pulled him closer.
"You're the best thing to ever happen to me," Stiles whispered into the crook of Derek's neck. He cringed at his honesty, but wasn't about to take it back. If Derek didn't realize how Stiles felt about him by now, he was an idiot.
They clung to each other under the stars, breathing each other's air between kisses. They were still mostly clothed, unwilling to break apart long enough to strip.
"You're the worst that's happened to me," Derek said, rocking up to grind against Stiles' ass. He bit hard on Stiles' neck, then kissed away the sting of the bite, the words.
Stiles laughed, not caring how his voice might travel in the night air. "Is that your way of saying you love me, too?"
Derek's eyes flittered over his face, open and sincere. Vulnerable. It was answer enough. | e7c5038cab3d4b47a819e807eafc6dd8 | ['3d9f8497a2a24c2a917ac99492ab4517'] | Instead of responding immediately, Stiles took his time lighting his cigarette. He inhaled deeply and held it, enjoying the momentary control he had over the room. Just maybe he could talk his way out of this, maybe even get some information on his dad while he was at it. He exhaled directly in Bug-eye's face.
Stiles shrugged, coy. "Why, are you willing to offer more?"
Bug-eye coughed and blinked against the smoke. "Almost certainly. Do you still have it?"
Smirking, Stiles pressed his lips down on the filter of the cigarette, inhaling deeply, but the German moved away before he could exhale in his face again. "No. But I know where it is."
The mood in the bar shifted immediately. Stiles had years of experience of pissing people off until they lashed out, and he knew he'd gone too far. Bug-eye headed across the room towards the fire, closer to where the medallion still sat on the table out in the open.
"How about a drink?" Stiles flailed a little, trying to get behind the bar and divert attention back to himself. "The raksi is nasty but I have some --"
"Your fire is dying here," Bug-eye said, carefully removing his gloves and jabbing the poker into the embers. "Why don't you tell us where the piece is right now?"
One henchmen stood about a foot from Stiles behind the bar. The other was just to his left, a machine gun clearly visible beneath his coat. "Look," Stiles shouted out, voice cracking, "I don't know who you're used to dealing with--"
With a grin more vile than Cyst-face's, the German turned back to him. "I'll be happy to show you what I'm used to," he said, raising the red-hot poker he'd pulled from the fire.
Stiles backed up on instinct, only to knock into the henchmen behind him. Before he could raise a hand, both arms were pinned down by the asshole, who had the size and smell of a yeti.
"Wait!" Stiles squirmed, desperate now as he was dragged from behind the bar. "I can be reasonable --"
"That time is passed," Bug-eye said. As he approached, the glow of the poker lit his face a bright, sallow orange until he barely looked human. His eyes were dead, cold.
Stiles wondered if this was how his father died -- tortured for the location of the medallion. Had he spent days, months, in pain, refusing to direct them towards his son? Stiles hoped he would be as strong. In the end it probably wouldn't matter. The medallion was just a few feet from them; all they had to do was turn around.
"Now, you will tell us where the medallion is." He raised the poker, directing it slowly towards Stiles.
Stiles squirmed. The grip on his arms tightened. It was impossible to sink any further away. The poker inched closer.
"You don't need that." Stiles turned his cheek away from the heat, eyes springing with tears. "Wait."
"Tell me, then," the Nazi said. "Where is it? Your father's life may depend on your honesty."
The tip of the poker was so close to Stiles' eye it burned his retinae just to look at it, but it hardly mattered. His father was alive. He whimpered, hoping his will would hold out, that he'd die not having failed his father in the end. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he was seconds from being blinded.
_Crack!_
Stiles' eyes snapped open just in time to catch the end of a whip curl around the poker. The next second the poker flew through the air and clanked to the floor on the other side of the room.
All eyes turned to the open door. There stood Derek Hale, hat tipped and smirk on his face.
Stiles didn't hesitate before taking advantage. He collapsed, making himself dead weight in the henchmen's arms. The second his captor bent forward to force Stiles standing again, Stiles kicked up off the floor, smacking his head into the idiot's nose.
It was just enough. The grip lessened. He dropped to the floor and crawled behind the bar.
Gunshots rang out. The room was in chaos; Stiles kept low while he tried to figure out how to get across the room to the medallion without anyone seeing him.
A flicker of light behind him caught his eye. "Goddamn it, Hale," he muttered as he stared at where the poker had fallen. The tip rested just on the edge of a long, threadbare curtain, and Stiles could see the material begin to catch.
He'd always said there was enough alcohol spilt in this place that every fiber of the building was soaked with it. The flames engulfed the threads in a matter of seconds; it would seem he was right. The fire spread quickly, helped along by a couple barrels spilling their content through their brand new bullet holes.
Derek wasn't faring so well. One of the henchmen -- the one slightly less yeti-like -- had him pinned to the bar. Broken glass shredded his leather jacket as he was held down. He caught Stiles' eye and, with an exaggerated eyebrow movement, he said, "Whiskey?"
Stiles shot a longing look at the medallion, and cursed not being able to take advantage of the perfect distraction Derek had set up. He wrapped his fingers around the heaviest bottle he could find and brought it crashing down on the henchman's skull.
A few more men stormed into the place.
The bar was an inferno. Flames and alcohol and broken glass were all Stiles could make out. From the corner of his eye he spotted the ashes his cashbox had become and cursed these fuckers all the more. |
c56b5e65051243edb43333bcdfcdcb02 | ['3da16a8dddca4e07954a81f3f624a517'] | “Hey, don’t give me that look,” he said, petting Derek’s face. “I am absolutely loving every minute of this, but I’m getting really tired.” He punctuated his statement with another yawn and a stretch, strategically reaching up and letting his bare chest rub against Derek’s fur. The sensation sent a spark down Stiles’ spine and slowly turned into arousal. Derek hadn’t ever let Stiles see him as a wolf, never had the chance to touch him the way he was now, and damn if that didn’t make Stiles want to keep touching him. No way this was considered bestiality now that Stiles was a werewolf, and Derek’s mate. Derek’s very horny werewolf mate.
Derek growled deep in his chest, a growl that went straight to Stiles’ dick. Suddenly, Stiles began to feel way to hot under his skin and his vision started to tunnel.
_Want want need want Derek need Derek need to feel Derek want Derek Derek Derek_.
He became aware of Derek scenting him: his rough tongue licking over his neck, his chest, gently running his teeth over his nipples and then not so gently nipping at the skin at his hips, the puffs of warm moist air against his pale skin. Stiles arched his back, wanting Derek’s tongue between his legs but unable to form the words. Instead, he whined, trying to shift his legs. Derek ignored him, bypassing his dick and licking down the inside of his thighs. Stiles took the opportunity to close his hand around himself, squeezing once before Derek’s red eyes appeared over his own, snapping his teeth in warning.
Stiles smirked, rolling over onto his stomach and released himself, letting it hang heavy between his damp thighs as he raised up and presented. His logical brain knew what was happening. He could feel an unfamiliar wetness start to trickle down his legs, and he silently thanked Deaton for his foresight.
“Stiles, Stiles, fuck… You’re wet… I need to, please, let me, please…”
He had felt Derek shift, both of them covered in grass and dirt, naked and desperate.
Stiles grunted and pushed his ass back. “Derek, staring is great, but if you don’t do something, I’m going to-“
A tongue licked up from his balls to the small of his back.
“Don’t fucking stop! Goddammit, Derek, I need you-“
The tongue that breached him was longer than Derek’s human tongue and a whole lot rougher. Stiles rocked back, letting himself shift into Beta as Derek continued licking into him. This was so much better than the first time. He couldn’t restrain the noises he made, and he hoped the pack wasn’t within earshot, not that he cared but he didn’t want a bunch of eavesdroppers and voyeurs. Right now he really wanted to come, preferably on more than just Derek’s really talented tongue.
He didn’t really get a chance to voice that thought because the tongue scraped and pushed and nudged that little organ inside his body that made him see stars. The slick flowing out of him, what wasn’t being lapped up by Derek, formed small pools on the ground. Stiles’ knees spread wider as he tried to push back. He wanted to wrap a hand around himself but he didn’t want to risk faceplanting. Derek must have gotten the hint because at the same time Stiles rocked back, Derek’s tongue twisted and Stiles came so hard his arms buckled and he hit the ground anyway.
“Ooph!” So much for fast reflexes. He wanted to pick himself up but couldn’t quite muster the energy so instead he gripped his dick, still half hard, and gave it a good pull. Apparently Derek still didn’t like the idea of Stiles touching himself because a clawed hand gripped his arm while the other arm wrapped around his chest and hauled him into Derek’s lap, back to chest.
“Remember what Gustav said, Stiles…” Maybe it was the way Derek said it or the tone he used, all rough and gravely like he hadn’t spoken in a while, like he had been saving his words for Stiles’ ears alone, but it sent a flush of heat straight through him and a fresh pulse of slick between their bodies. “After your first shift, he said your first heat would happen soon thereafter. I can almost smell it on you, just out of reach. And as much as I’d like to have my way with you out in the woods, I’d rather go back to the house where we’ll have privacy. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this…”
Stiles caught his breath, turning his head to kiss Derek’s jaw. “Who’s gonna see me out here?”
Derek’s grip tightened. “Too open, and you’re mine. I don’t want to take that chance.”
Stiles could feel how hard Derek was, no way they could manage to go back in their current state. Stiles came once, but he was more than ready to go again, and he wanted Derek with him. “Come on, need to get you off too, Sourwolf. Wanna feel you inside me again, been too long. Need it, Derek. Need you.”
It was Derek’s turn to whine, his cock slipping between Stiles’ asscheeks, slicking him up. He caught Derek’s mouth in a filthy kiss, their sharp teeth breaking skin and healing instantly. It should be gross, swapping blood and spit and slick between their mouths. Stiles pulled away just enough to catch Derek’s red eyes flicker down to the space between them before latching back onto his mouth.
“Not like this… Human, need to be human…” | 1669d4de6e924c769459e66e6736bf31 | ['3da16a8dddca4e07954a81f3f624a517'] | Stiles closed his eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on his heartrate, the breeze coming from the open window down the hall, the quiet calm outside, and the smell of the oncoming night. The blood coursing through his veins cooled with each breath, and when he opened his eyes, the lines were no longer fuzzy.
“Ok. Ok. I got this.” He shook out his arms and cleared his throat. “So should we head out soon? I’d hate to be caught mid-shift in the backseat of a car.”
Derek rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to hide the small grin on his face. Isaac let out a breath Stiles imagined he’d been holding since Derek had walked in.
“Before you go, I have something for you.” Deaton turned to walk out the door. “Derek, Isaac, you two can wait outside. Stiles will join you momentarily.”
\- - - - -
By the time the three of them arrived at the Hale house, the rest of the pack was already waiting. Stiles got out of the car and was immediately tackled by Scott, much to Derek’s displeasure, but he managed to keep it under control. The rest of the pack moved forward slowly, but at seeing Derek’s eyeroll, they lunged.
Lydia hung back with Jackson and Boyd. Jackson was still acting like a douchebag and Boyd, well Stiles already accepted the fact that Boyd wasn’t very tactile unless it came to Erica. Once everyone got their giddiness out of their systems, Lydia stepped forward like the level-headed one she was.
“Your dad packed a bag with some extra clothes, and he’s been made aware of the fact you may not be returning home for a few days.”
A hot flush broke out on Stiles’ body. Erica giggled. Of course she giggled.
“Yea I, uh, talked to Deaton already. It’s good.”
Lydia’s eyebrow arched perfectly and her eyes flickered over to Derek, who looked slightly confused. “I’ll tell you…later,” he said. He really didn’t want to have that particular discussion in front of everyone, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Isaac and Lydia, obviously, already knew what it was about.
“Where’s Allison?” He asked, looking at Scott and effectively changing the subject.
“She didn’t feel comfortable being around for the ceremony. Lydia’s going to call her once it’s over. Her dad said the Winchester brothers are here again, so she’s going to have dinner with everyone before heading out this way.”
“Yea, my dad told me. Is that where Peter is too?” Stiles noticed a distinct lack of creepy uncle. He figured he’d want to be here to witness this momentous occasion.
“I told Peter that if he couldn’t behave, he wouldn’t be welcome. Besides,” he added, stripping off his shirt which Stiles thought was desperately unfair considering how he felt his hormones were raging out of control. “Just because he’s my uncle doesn’t mean he’s part of this pack. Now let’s go, I want to get a few miles out before the moon completely takes over.” He winked at Stiles, shifting into his Beta form. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Before Stiles could formulate a witty retort, Derek had already taken off with Erica and Boyd hot on his heels. Jackson rolled his eyes and pulled off his hoodie before shifting, casting a parting glance at Lydia before taking off after them.
“You ready?” Scott was virtually bouncing with pent up energy.
Stiles kicked off his shoes and socks while removing his shirt. He left his pants on for decency’s sake. There would be plenty of time for him to take those off later considering what was going to happen in about an hour. He closed his eyes and focused, feeling the bones in his face alter.
When he opened his eyes, he took in the sharp features around him. Lydia smirked.
“That’s a good look for you, Stiles. Now go. We’ll be right behind you.”
Stiles turned his head and caught the scent in the air. He didn’t need to be told twice.
\- - - - -
By the time the pack slowed, they had run several miles into the dense wilderness. He couldn’t hear any sounds other than the pack and the surrounding wildlife. He’d taken off his watch, but judging by the height of the moon it had to be close to 11. Isaac was close by his side when they finally stopped running, Stiles’ chest heaving at the exertion and the overwhelming scents around him. Most potent was Derek’s.
Their eyes locked almost instantly: Alpha red and Omega gold. Derek growled deep in his chest and stepped forward.
_Submit._
Stiles pushed back, not giving an inch.
The rest of the pack had moved away from the two of them, holding steady. Lydia was speaking soft words to them and Stiles felt the rolling ways of support, but he knew it wasn’t quite enough. Deaton said he needed to complete the shift to continue, that Derek would take the lead in establishing his position and because he had to teach Stiles, as his mate and as his equal. The rest of the pack had to see the acceptance, and then accept the equal status of both. They could do this. They had to.
At first, it hurt more than anything Stiles had ever felt. He could feel his bones break and reconstruct, his blood boiling under the new skin and fur. The conscious part of his brain locked onto Derek and felt him guiding the shift, but it did nothing to ease the pain. His organs churned inside his new body and for a split second, he wanted to vomit. He wanted to quit, take everything back, start over. |
0266e3b7a7b6435e88213e51766fcb12 | ['3db1de2ebbe94b759ba9ab102caa916b'] | He hesitated to open his eyes, scared that the sound was once again a figment of his imagination and that the angel wasn’t there. But once his eyes were open, he was greeted by the sight of a trench coat clad figure, ruffled hair, and piercing blue eyes. Dean froze. “Cas,” he breathed out.
Cas’ eyes met his for a moment, and all Dean could do was sit there and think about how much he missed looking into those eyes. Angry howls interrupted them, and Dean and Castiel both turned to see the mob of demons slowly making their way towards them, furious and ready to fight. Dean spotted his gun on the floor nearby and quickly grabbed it, rising to stand. He made his way over to Cas, who had slid his angel blade out of his sleeve and got into a fighting stance. They exchanged a quick glance and nodded, then took up positions back to back as the demons surrounded them.
Dean started firing of the salt rounds, stunning and incapacitating the demons while Cas made his way through the crowd with his angel blade, killing one demon after another. When Dean ran out of rounds, he used his gun to slam into the demons, stunning them so Cas could finish them off. He was entranced by the graceful movements of the angel, who moved as though he was dancing among the demons while he dodged hits and slashed out with his blade. Pretty soon, all of the demons that were in the warehouse lay dead at their feet, and Dean smiled triumphantly at Cas.
Castiel just stared back with a blank look on his face, and Dean’s smile slowly fell. Seeing Cas again after so long was a huge relief to Dean, but at the same time it reminded him of how the angel had ignored all of his calls and pleas for weeks. Dean’s relief started fading and he felt all of the frustration that he felt throughout the past few weeks build and well up inside him, threatening to overflow. He fixed Cas with a hard look, jaw set with anger.
“Where the hell have you been?” Dean demanded. Cas raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been calling for you for weeks, and you finally decide to show up now? What the hell man?”
“I was under the impression that I was no longer needed,” Castiel evenly replied. “You said so yourself that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and didn’t need me to ‘mojo you out of everything.’ I figured whatever problem you wanted to discuss, you could handle without any angelic interference.”
“Damnit Cas, I didn’t mean it like that...” Dean felt guilty again, his anger evaporating.
“Then what did you mean it as, Dean? Because to me, it seemed clear that I am no longer necessary for your endeavors and its success.” Castiel’s eyes were flashing with anger and hurt.
“That’s not true!” Dean called out, desperation tinging his voice.
“Then what is true, Dean?” Castiel asked, growing frustrated. “What did you mean when you said those things back then? I felt that you didn’t need me so I stayed away, and now you’re saying that’s not the case. Help me Dean, because clearly there is something I’m missing here.”
“Cas, that’s not how I feel, you know that,” Dean implored.
“Then how do you really feel?” the angel asked softly.
“I…” Dean faltered. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell Cas and risk him not feeling the same. He couldn’t handle being rejected. He couldn’t handle losing his best friend.
But as he saw Cas turn around and start walking away, he gathered his resolve and thought ‘ _fuck it_ ,’ calling out, “Cas, wait.”
But when Castiel kept walking, Dean strode after him, feeling a touch of anger creep in again along with the desperation. “Cas!” he called out. He caught up to Cas and reached out to grab his shoulder and spun him around to face him.
“Damnit Cas, don’t walk away from me,” Dean growled out. Suddenly, he felt himself being pushed back against the wall, pinned down by Castiel.
“What do you want from me, Dean?” Castiel growled back. “What more can I do that I’m not doing already? I try so hard to help you and protect you, and yet you never seem to appreciate it. So what more do you want from me? Give me one good reason why I should stick around,” Castiel challenged, staring right into Dean’s eyes. Dean was silent as Castiel held on a moment longer before releasing him and taking a step back, turning around to walk away again.
Castiel felt his arm being grabbed again and suddenly, he was the one pinned to the wall as Dean kept one hand on his arm and slammed the other right next to his head, trapping him below the hunter. Dean’s green eyes locked with Castiel’s blue ones as he held the angel against the wall and leaned over him.
“You want a reason?” Dean whispered, his breath ghosting across Castiel’s face. | 7e06a47d062e4829877f457c343061d1 | ['3db1de2ebbe94b759ba9ab102caa916b'] | He leaned down and captured Castiel’s lips with his own in a heated and passionate kiss. Castiel gasped in surprise and was still for a moment before he started kissing back with just as much fiery passion. Dean moaned in approval and stepped closer, pressing himself against Cas and moving his hand from Cas’ arm to the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss. He ran his tongue along Cas’ lips and didn’t hesitate when Cas opened his mouth in response. He tongue tangled with Cas’ as they battled for dominance, and when Cas let up, Dean slid it across the roof of his mouth, eliciting a deep moan from the angel. He grinned into the kiss and repeated the action, getting a louder moan in response as Castiel pressed himself closer and placed one hand on the back of Dean’s head, running his fingers through his short hair, as his other hand found Dean’s shoulder. They held onto each other tightly and continued to kiss fiercely, and after a few more moments, they pulled apart, faces flushed and gasping for air.
Dean leaned back down and rested his forehead against Cas’, closing his eyes and panting, trying to get his breath back. After a moment, he opened his eyes to see Castiel had his eyes closed and was breathing hard, his face still flushed. “That a good enough reason for you?” Dean asked huskily.
Cas opened his eyes, blue peering into green as he breathed, “Dean…”
Dean gently cupped the angel’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick, Cas. I never meant for you to think that you’re not needed, that you’re not appreciated. I never meant to push you away. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. I need you Cas, probably more than I’ve ever needed anyone before. I…I love you.” Dean peered intently into Castiel’s eyes, pleading with the angel to understand and accept his feelings and his apology.
Castiel looked searchingly into Dean’s eyes before he lowered his gaze and shook his head. Dean felt his heart drop before the angel looked up again with a wide smile on his face. He placed a hand on the side of Dean’s face and said, “Dean, I love you too.”
Dean could hardly believe it. He stared long and hard into the angel’s eyes, and when he only saw love and forgiveness shining back, his face broke out into a huge grin as he pulled the angel forward into a tight embrace. Cas hugged him back, grabbing onto the back of his shirt and holding on just as tight. Dean pulled back slightly and kissed the angel again, soft and slow. When they pulled apart again, he grinned and whispered, “I love you Cas.”
“I love you too Dean,” Castiel breathed. He rested his head against Dean’s shoulder and soaked in the warmth of his embrace. He then frowned as he remembered the reason for their dispute. He lifted his head up and fixed Dean with a stern gaze, the hunter peering back, confused. “Just promise me that you’ll be more careful in the future and that you’ll call me when you need help,” Castiel said.
Dean laughed and pressed his forehead against Cas’ again. “Don’t worry Cas, I promise,” he said.
“Good,” Castiel replied. “I don’t want to lose you right after I just got you.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” Dean smirked. Cas shot him a disapproving look.
Dean huffed a laugh and tightened his hold around Cas, pulling him closer, expression going solemn. “You’ll always have me Cas,” Dean said, voice full of sincerity as he looked down into the depths of the angel’s eyes.
That was all the reassurance Castiel needed as he leaned up and kissed the hunter again, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.
In that moment, Dean Winchester officially felt like the luckiest guy ever.
**Author's Note:**
> I got the idea for lycans vs. werewolves from MissAnnThropic’s fic “TSO II: The Unbroken Ones” and added my own little touch to it. |
9296668bdb094659b946073b7dddf4b1 | ['3db90bc03bf742a997daf4d2e72b1b9b'] | “Yes, last picture,” he says, interrupting all of them. “Tired of always make same movie, over and over and over again. Tired of always be asked about dating Jordan.” He makes a face and Taylor laughs at Jordan’s offended expression. “Script for _Dueling Cavalier_ awful. I think--I can write better. So I will.” He grins at them, pleased.
Jordan opens his mouth to protest, then clearly thinks the better of it. Personally, Taylor thinks that Nail will probably be an excellent script writer, and an excellent director if he ever decides he wants to do that as well. He’s always had great suggestions and ideas, and recently he’s seemed fed up with the movies he’s been making, which _have_ essentially been the same movie set in different historical periods.
“We’ll need a new name,” Sam says, tapping his fingers on Andrew’s desks. “If it’s going to be a musical, it should have a musical name.”
Taylor’s had the perfect name sitting on the tip of his tongue since breakfast this morning. He hasn’t even told Jordan yet, because he wanted to savor it.
“How about: _The Dancing Cavalier_.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, then Andrew nods. “I like it. We’ll need to fix it up a bit—Nail and Jordan have both made their opinions about the script known, and we’ll want an excuse to have modern musical numbers—”
“Let me,” Nail said quickly. “I have many ideas.”
Sam shrugs when Andrew glances over at him. “I don’t see a problem with it. You know I’m not a script writer.”
“I think he’d be good,” Jordan pipes up, and Andrew nods his permission.
“I’ll want to see a draft on my desk in three days,” he says, and Nail nods, beaming.
“You’ve got at least half of it written already, don’t you,” Taylor mutters to Nail as he, Taylor and Jordan walk out of Andrew’s office. Nail smirks, raising his eyebrow at where Jordan’s hand is resting on Taylor’s back, but doesn’t disagree. Taylor flushes but doesn’t move to dislodge Jordan, instead drifting so that their shoulders bump together as they walk down the hall.
0o0o0o0o0
Ryan’s humming the chorus to the sappy love song that he finished recording that morning and smiling to himself as he hurries through the offices at Monumental. He’s just gotten out of a meeting with Andrew and Sam and some of the other studio executives. They’re busily planning his debut as an actor after _The Dancing Cavalier_ comes out, so Ryan is excited and on his way to meet Taylor and Jordan for dinner when he turns a corner and almost knocks someone over.
“Oh! Sorry, Mr. Lowe, I didn’t see you there,” Ryan says apologetically to the man, one of the studio executives he’d been introduced to in the meeting earlier. “Here, let me get that—“ he reaches down and helps to gather up the papers that Mr. Lowe had been holding, settling them into a neat stack before holding them out. Mr. Lowe takes the papers with a smile.
“You’re in quite a hurry,” he says, and Ryan flushes a little. “Dinner date?”
Ryan shrugs, but he’s afraid that he’s grinning like an idiot. They haven’t had a lot of time to talk, recently, what with how busy all three of them have been trying to make _The Dancing Cavalier_ a reality, but he’s pretty sure that they’re heading that way. Ever since the night when they came up with the idea to turn the movie into a musical, he’s been spending all his free time with Taylor and Jordan, talking about everything and nothing. No one’s said anything yet, but both of them keep _looking_ at him, and they’re always finding excuses to touch him and each other. He finds himself making the same sort of excuses, so he’s planning on asking about it tonight, at dinner, and he’s running late. Mr. Lowe winks at him.
“Don’t let me keep you,” he says, and disappears into his office. Ryan blinks—he thought everyone had already left for the evening—before shaking his head and hurrying out to the parking lot, where Taylor has started pointedly honking his horn.
Dinner is delicious, but Ryan has a sudden attack of nerves halfway through and ends up mostly picking at his meal. Jordan and Taylor have been exchanging speaking looks all evening and no matter how _sure_ he is that their upcoming conversation will go the way he thinks (hopes) it’s going to go, he still can’t help but feel that it’s going to go wrong, somehow. Jordan will have decided that he can’t endanger his career by dating two people at once, perhaps, or Taylor will reveal that he doesn’t like Ryan _that way_ , or—he cuts his train of thought off firmly and stabs at his salmon.
Jordan gets the check, and all three of them pile into Taylor’s car. He drives them back to Jordan’s house without comment, and they wind up in Jordan’s kitchen, standing around the countertop and staring at each other. Jordan is the first to break the silence.
“So,” he says, and then stops. Ryan and Taylor both look at him expectantly, and Taylor turns to Ryan with a wry expression when it becomes apparent that there’s no more forthcoming.
“ _So,”_ he says in his best Jordan impersonation as Jordan himself turns red. “Oh, Jordan Eberle! So eloquent, so articulate! Ryan, hold me—I think I might faint,” he puts his hand to his forehead and fakes a swoon into Ryan’s arms. Ryan’s laughing hard enough that he almost doesn’t catch him, and Taylor grins and winks at him. Even Jordan is laughing as he comes up and punches Taylor in the arm.
“You dick,” he says, but the tension’s gone out of him now, which was clearly what Taylor had been aiming for. Ryan shoves Taylor away gently and Jordan steadies him, and the three of them smile at each other for a moment. | 5c7dcff8de0d4eba8799596a1720c1b0 | ['3db90bc03bf742a997daf4d2e72b1b9b'] | Macy didn’t have anything against Artem, really - he was perfectly nice, and certainly the politest of the three junior crew members. But she would definitely have felt more comfortable with Dubi as her immediate backup. They’d been through enough together that she always knew where he’d be in a firefight. She trusted him even when he started in on his improvisation routine, which he was actually pretty damn good at. Which was, of course, why he’d been assigned the role that he had this time. Artem was an imperfect fit for this role, but he would do a perfectly adequate job nonetheless. Jack wouldn’t have given him the task if he thought Artem was unfit. She just hadn’t worked with Artem as much as she had worked with Dubi. She would be fine with Artem as soon as they had enough time to build up trust.
0o0o0o0o0
“All right,” Cammie muttered, cracking her knuckles and leaning over Matt’s shoulder to get a better look at the computer screen. “Let’s do this thing.”
“You are a caricature of yourself,” Matt said, snorting. She smacked him over the head without taking her eyes from the screen.
“More finding of whiskey, less talking,” she said. She could feel Jack rolling his eyes from across the cabin.
“Okay, okay, yeesh,” Matt muttered. “So here are the cameras for the rooms Avery thought that the whiskey might be located,” he said, punching in a command and bringing up a list of options. “So we’re looking for-”
“Grey box, about 3 feet by 3 feet, serial number 42131155177217210.”
“That’s a really long serial number,” Matt muttered. “You memorized it?”
Cammie snorted. “Duh. I’m the one who has to go in and make sure it’s there, after all.”
“Huh. Still, that’s hard - I’ll see if I can pull up an inventory list, you look through the cameras. Does the case have any distinguishing marks?”
“Not that I know of,” she said, flicking through camera views as Matt opened up a second computer and logged onto the facility’s server. There was silence in the shuttle for a few minutes as both of them concentrated on their tasks before Matt let out an excited exclamation.
“According to the inventory, it should be in Holding Room 16.” Matt leaned across Cammie and jabbed at her screen. “Try that one.”
"No time for that," Jack interrupted. "Macy and Dubi are on their way in, you need to go now." Cammie looked over at him, questioning, but he met her gaze steadily and jerked his head at the door, so she shoved her chair back and stood up. “Got it!” She shrugged into the jacket that was the final piece of her facility worker disguise and adjusted her hat. “Wish me luck,” she said, hurrying off the shuttle.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be superstitious?” Jack said in her earpiece. She made a rude noise in response, and he laughed. “Good luck anyway, Cammie. Here’s hoping we won’t need it.”
0o0o0o0o0
The sound of a throat clearing brought Macy back to herself. “And we’re here. Matt’s placed the bug, he and Cammie are looking for the whiskey now. Good luck, you two,” Wiz said over the intercom. Artem pulled himself to attention - he was getting good at that, he must have practiced with Jack or Dubi on the trip - and led the way down the gangway. Macy followed at a sedate pace, smoothing her face into a haughty mask behind her veil.
Their progress wasn’t even halted at the gate - the guard there took one look at Artem’s stern expression and Macy’s outfit and waved them through. _What kind of shoddy security is this?_ Macy wondered as they entered the building. _Why did we go to all of this trouble if it’s going to be like - oh._
Apparently the terrible guards at the gate were merely a trap to lure potential thieves into a false sense of security, Macy thought to herself as she and Artem entered the lobby and were instantly the focus of at least four cameras and two pairs of armed guards. Macy ignored them all as best she could - worrying about her safety was her bodyguard’s job, not hers - and stepped forward to meet the uniformed man coming towards her imperiously.
“I believe that you have something of mine,” she said, tilting back her head slightly to look down her nose at him. “I should like to have it back.”
4. Chapter 4
“I’m in,” Cammie muttered, pushing the cart she’d snagged from the loading dock down the hallway toward her destination. “What’s it looking like?”
“Macy’s got their attention,” Jack said in her earpiece after a moment. “Matt says to turn left up ahead, there’s a pair of guards coming down your hallway on patrol.” Cammie rolled her eyes a little at that – she was in disguise – but turned left down the hallway anyway. It couldn’t hurt to be a little careful about being seen.
“Turn right at the end of the hallway, then take the second right,” Jack said, and Cammie fixed her scowl at the back of her cart.
“I _did_ memorize the map,” she muttered crossly. “I know where I’m going.”
Jack didn’t say anything, which could either be him ignoring her on purpose or someone else demanding his attention. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves – it didn’t really help, but nothing really did when they were in such high stakes situations – and continued pushing her cart, adopting a sullen, bored expression. |
cc92dca0045c4a29849877f7f6f331d1 | ['3dbf294433d848b19072dce8619e3d02'] | The steady pulse of footsteps taken in unison rumbled through the ground from the direction of Camelot’s wall, and they all looked up.
“Gwen is safe for now, and there’s nothing we can do about anyone else until we’ve made a plan,” Arthur said. He looked back in the direction of the castle. His face was set with tone of a warrior and a strategist. There was remorse there: he wanted to go back. But there was also the understanding that going back would be suicide without a plan, and perhaps even with one.
Elsa didn’t envy the decision he had to make. He was the automatic leader of the group. Elsa may have been rightful Queen of a territory, and Arthur only a prince, but no one doubted who gave the orders. Elsa was thankful it wasn’t her. She wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to abandon her sister of her own choice, even knowing that she was making the best decision in the long run.
Arthur continued walking through the forest. They avoided paths, but stayed close enough to them for Arthur to keep track of where they were. Their own footsteps were the only sounds of Human life they heard for hours.
“We can stop here for the night,” Arthur said at last. They had reached a small clearing nestled in between thick patches of trees. Not far away was a river, at which they had all taken eager gulps of the clear water that ran through. Only Leon had a water skin, and between the seven of them, it had run out quite quickly.
An hour into their rest, Merlin and Gwaine had gotten a small fire going, and Arthur brought in something that he caught in a snare trap. Elsa had time to give him the true story of how Elsa had lost control of her kingdom, and she the sight of pitty in his eyes instead of anger came as somewhat of a relief. Pitty wasn’t trust, but it was better than the fury he could have shown.
No one smiled when she was done. No one was relieved to be at the end of the day, because the following one held no promises that it would be better. They had no blankets, and everyone crept in as close to the fire as they could manage.
On either side of her lay Gwaine and Merlin, and Elsa suddenly longed for the presence of Kristoff. They hadn’t been together long, but amidst a group of men Elsa barely knew, she realized how much she had come to depend on Kristoff’s presence. She had feared for Anna’s safety so much of late that she had forgotten to consider what Kristoff would be put through for helping her.
Elsa snapped out of her terrified thoughts for her friend and her sister when next to her, Merlin and Arthur’s voices rose above their whisper.
“Merlin, for once, leave me in peace, please.”
“I understand. Your father lied to you about Morgana. I don't know why. I'm sure he had his reasons, but now is not the time for that. He's still your father. He needs you. Camelot needs you.”
“I've known her all my life. How could she do this to us?”
“I can't answer that, but you have a duty to your father, to your people. You can't give up on them now.”
“You cannot defeat an immortal army.”
“We don't know until we try. You’re not alone, Arthur. You’ve got everyone here on your side, and I’ve sent word to Lancelot -”
“When did you have time to get a message to Lancelot?”
“Nevermind that, the point is, you can’t lose hope yet.”
Hope, in Elsa’s opinion, had already faded away. As long as they weren’t doing anything productive, there was no hope. As long as there was no Emrys, there was no hope. But they still had Merlin, and Merlin knew where Emrys was.
_ Why hadn’t he called the powerful warlock for help yet? _
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> This was super short and not really anything happened, but it was in my outline, so I wrote it. The next chapter is actually finished because I don't always write my chapters in order. It's in Anna's POV and I'll probably post it in the next few days.
18. Ruthless || Anna
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Anna meets Gwen
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Wow this is even shorter, but it's only been a day, so maybe I'll just have short chapters and update faster. Also another chapter without much action, but the next one has the escape, and following ones have fighting and stuff.
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
― Maya Angelou
Anna blinked at the torch a few times before she realized what was different. For the first time in days, weeks, even, she could think for herself. She knew the thoughts she had were her own now. She remembered her sister and the events leading up to Anna’s own imprisonment.
Her memories after she had been enchanted though, those weren’t so clear. All the voices she had heard in her enchanted state blurred together into one tangled mess of mistrust. Looking around her, she knew she wasn’t in Arendelle. She could be in King Cenred’s castle, she supposed, but she remembered seeing Elsa somewhat recently. Morgause had mentioned Elsa was in Camelot.
So. Camelot was her new prison. She wasn’t in a cell though. For the first time, Anna wondered why she had been released from the magic that had held her captive.
“My Lady?” Anna flinched as the words were processed in her head, intense fear of being out of her own control taking over her actions for a moment before Anna realized it was only a servant. | efc598ff33bf47f3b0c82279c6b70483 | ['3dbf294433d848b19072dce8619e3d02'] | Elyan’s fight almost looked like one he might win. If it had been a soldier, he would have won in the first few seconds, but the sword would never fall.
Even when gravity should have pulled it to the ground when it sailed out the window.
The one spell Gwen had deliberately learned was one that shielded a person. She had cast it on her brother’s armour more than once, but the spell faded quickly, and it hadn’t been a strong one to begin with. It’s disappearing remnants wouldn’t do Elyan much good now.
Elyan collapsed, sword in his chest.
“I-I'm here.” Why was she sad? “I’m here.” He had tormented her. He was wrong. Morgana was right. Her tears were supposed to be faked, and yet they cloud her vision without any acting on her part.
“For a moment, I didn't think I was going to win.” Elyan grimaced.
“Father would be proud of you.” It wasn’t a lie.
“And of you. So proud.”
Gwen winced. Staring down at Elyan as he faded away, she thought she could hear screams and laughter echoing in the distance.
* * *
“How is he?” Morgana asked.
“Arthur thinks he has won. He has no idea.”
“Do you understand now who you can trust?”
“It's you, Morgana. It's only ever been you.”
“You are not one of them. And you never will be”
“You don't know how much I hate them. All of them.”
“You have done well to see past the lies to the real truth. You have an important part to play in the future. Together we will ensure the destruction of everything that Arthur holds dear.”
Arthur would never see past any of her act. He wouldn’t see the lie behind her smile. She knew he wouldn’t. She’d been doing it for years, after all. She was the perfect example of a friend, a wife, and an advisor.
Perfect people didn’t exist, but for once, Gwen would allow herself to pretend to be one.
**Author's Note:**
> Initially inspired by some lyrics in NF's song "remember this" although it kind of went way off track from where it was originally going.
>
> Comments appreciated :) |
23b10bcf18284da1a71ab10e8f6d6b5e | ['3dc1073a936f434e83b083a751525779'] |
today's the day
**Author's Note:**
> There was this idea I had in my head, but I couldn't draw it so I attempted to write it instead.
Four walls, all the same colours. Four walls, all keeping me in my place by him. Four fucking walls, all reminding me how trapped I am in this godforsaken place. But these four walls seem less like a life limiting sentence and more like a godsend when she visits. Her visits are always as the sun sets, colouring the walls with the shadows of the night and the promise of a visit from her.
Furiosa.
Every other night at sunset, she visits. I don't know how she gets in, but she's always there, waiting. Blending in with the dead darkness of the room as I arrive back from the evening meal with my sisters in suffering. Whilst we share a room, they don't immediately go to bed like I do, which was how it started. I came in one evening to find her stood there in the shadows, looking out of our window as though she wished she could switch places. She looked like one of those brooding models I sometimes see in books from the Old World.
It was weird, the way it all started. She'd originally been assigned to us to ensure our safety and protection from people who weren't allowed to touch us like Joe did. She has endured witnessing him do all sorts of unspeakable acts against us, all because he ordered it. At first, I don't think she wanted to think about us, let alone care about us. But there she was, months later, visiting me in my room.
"D'you want to get out of here Toast? You can bring the other wives" she had asked. My surprise had be evident on my face. Did I want to get out of here? Of course I fucking did.
"If you do, be ready to go at a moments notice. I can take us all to The Green Place."
From there, she'd visit only once a week, a different day each time. Those visits had consisted of idle chatting to discussions about what we'd do if we found The Green Place. Slowly, they'd turned into discussions about anything from the beauty of the stars (it was this night that I kissed her) to her showing me how to reload a gun and what ammunition belonged to what kind of gun (the night she decided that the risk was worth it, having set rules between us beforehand). Weeks turned into months, and her weekly visits slowly became more frequent to what they are now.
And here she was, against the walls that are coloured by the night. Waiting for me.
"I'm being promoted. I'll no longer be the protector of you and the others. His highness is giving me a war rig, with the duty of being the one to exchange produce and water for ammunition and guns out at Gas Town and Bullet Farm" she says quietly, staring out at the view.
"Why?" I ask, sitting down on my bed, bringing my knees to my chest. It wasn't rare for Joe to promote people who showed promise, but he'd seemed to enjoy having Furiosa protect us.
"I don't know, I didn't ask. But you now what this means, don't you?"
"We'll be leaving soon."
The statement hung in the air between us, as though there was an expected answer. Her silence confirmed it. To think, soon we'd be gone from this place. Gone from these four walls. Her eyes move from staring outside to my face, probably trying to figure my thoughts.
"How long?"
"A matter of days" Furiosa whispers into the space between us. She moves over to my bed, and I nod for her to sit down.
Within our living quarters, there was three separate bedrooms. Splendid had her own, and the four of us shared the other two. Being Joe's prized breeders meant we got the best of everything, but it came at a price. A price that we were all fucking sick of paying.
"I'll tell the others then, to be ready soon. The Green Place here we come."
"If it still exists, T."
Right, the possibility that The Green Place didn't exist. The possibility that all this planning, all this risk was for nothing. There was nothing more to say, nothing to try and get rid of the risk of that possibility.
"We're getting out. That's that. Now get over here."
Furiosa moved until she was sat against my knees. Her eyes flicked up to look at me, worry clouding them. It was rare for her to allow herself to appear weak.
I move my legs and wrap them around her, and scoot closer to her. My lips lightly graze over her shoulder, whilst she continues keeping her eyes on me.
"Toast, this is serious. We can't just.. We can't rule out that possibility."
"I know, but why focus on it? If it doesn't exist, it doesn't exist. We'll figure it out."
She starts to unstrap her arm, whilst I continue to graze her shoulder with my lips. Once it's off, I trace her back with my hand as the other takes her hand in mine. I lean my forehead on her shoulder, as she leans her head on mine. It's easy and comfortable, which is rare to find among this place.
"Are you staying?" I mumble into her shoulder.
"Yes." The answer is short, but not simple. She never chooses to stay, it's only because Joe has ordered her to protect us at a certain shift time or if he has things planned for us in the morning. It's rare that he'll come into anyone's room that isn't Splendid's, unless he is aiming to breed or something that Splendid won't give him. | 0a295d91bbc14c31bf5a567be88a9f44 | ['3dc1073a936f434e83b083a751525779'] | “Stop, I surrender! Is it possible to love you even less than before?” Clarke was laughing too hard to get any more words out, and felt Octavia ease up for a moment.
“Don’t even lie, you love me the most and you know it.” Octavia placed a final kiss on an area that hadn’t been attacked and got comfortable with Clarke again. “Let’s just focus on today, and we’ll sort out your apartment another day okay babe? Let’s just stay on this couch for now, and deal with this tomorrow. Or later, when Raven gets here.”
Clarke nodded, and passed O the remote to decide what they were going to watch until responsibility got in the way.
2 AND A HALF YEARS BEFORE
_Clarke could practically see the clogs in Lexa’s mind turning slowly, probably trying to figure out how to say the big three words back. It hadn’t bothered Clarke that she’d been the first to say them, but she could tell that Lexa had been trying to say it for the past hour of them hanging out together. Every time that Clarke would do something particularly cute, she could see Lexa’s cheeks redden and that her expression would become one of seriousness. She’d soon figured what could be so important to do this to Lexa, and she wasn’t usually wrong about this kind of thing._
_Lexa’s voice interrupted her train of thought, “Clarke, I’ve got something important to say to you.” Her voice was sharp and hard, and if Clarke wasn’t so sure that Lexa was about to say I love you back, she’d worry that Lexa was about to break up with her._
_“Yes babe?”_
_Lexa turned to look at the textbook laid out on her lap, and then looked at Clarke’s hand intertwined with hers. Why does this have to be so hard? Lexa thought. Clarke had already said the words to her, she could say them back. Clarke watched as Lexa’s face became one of peace all of a sudden._
_“I love you.”_
_Clarke’s face broke out into a smile. One that reached her eyes, “I know. I love you too. Though now you’ve made me lose 20 bucks babe, I bet Octavia that we’d be 60 years old when you said it.”_
_Lexa didn’t say anything but just stared at Clarke._
_“Babe, I’m joking. I knew you’d say it back when you were ready. These things come harder for you, I get that.”_
_“Hmph. Did you really make a bet with Octavia?”_
_“It depends. How annoyed would you be if I told you I’d made 50 bucks?”_
_Now it was Lexa’s turn to smile, “you bet O 50 bucks that I’d say it before you were 60?”_
_“No, I bet her 50 bucks you’d say it this weekend.” Clarke smiled smugly at her girlfriend, knowing that she was secretly impressed even if she wasn’t going to show it. Clarke leant in to press a light kiss to Lexa’s cheek. She heard Lexa let out a happy sigh and pressed another kiss to Lexa’s other cheek._
_“Clarke, am I ever going to get a kiss on the lips?”_
_“Only if you tell me again.”_
_“I love you.” Before Lexa had fully said the last word, Clarke lips had found their way to Lexa’s._
PRESENT
Clarke had been sat on the floor of her apartment for an hour now, trying to decide what to label the boxes as. Octavia had dropped her off at her apartment and had been reassured by Clarke that she’d been fine to do this on her own. She needed to be alone to sift through all their possessions and decide what to with them. What possessions were more Lexa’s than hers, what ones she could part with despite having made up this apartment together.
It had been eerie coming back to what used to be their apartment on her own, now single. After a quick look around, Clarke had discovered that none of Lexa’s things had gone, not even any clothes had been taken. _I wonder if she’s avoided this place as much as I have?_ Clarke had thought. When she had gone into the bedroom, she had found her bed as she’d left it; with Lexa’s t-shirt on the pillow. Clarke had used it to help her get to sleep the night before her wedding.
But now, she was sat on the floor surrounded by stuff that was mainly Lexa’s and trying to figure out what she could put into a box and give to Indra or Gustus to pass onto Lexa.
It had now been a month since the failed wedding, and this was the first time Clarke had been able to stay in the apartment without wanting to throw things at the walls. As she continued to look hopelessly as the things surrounding her, Clarke felt her phone buzz in her pocket.
Octavia (2.30pm): How’s the sorting going?
Clarke (2.31pm): Like utter shit, I don’t know what to do with all of this stuff!
Clarke (2.31pm): Also I might have found Lexa’s t-shirt I used on the night before the wedding. Is it meant to be this hard to sort through it all?
Octavia: (2.32pm): You knew it was going to be hard babe. If it’s too much, then just leave it for now, you don’t have to do this princess. You’re staying with me anyway, just leave it at that for now and then do this when you’re ready.
Clarke (2.33pm): O, I am ready. I want to live back in my apartment with my dog and do my work and continue like I was, just without the fiance that apparently didn’t love me enough to go through with her word. |
59401f45c47a4e03972ca6a42d398def | ['3dc58cda6681452bbddad0c2885d17cb'] | “Oh, very. Until now, you’ve awoken him after a thousand years… As for Clairius, no one knows what happened to her, or if she’s still existing to this day.” Lou was thankfully able to think straight enough to make this information out. The maiden—who he still didn’t know—created Idyll, so as the reverend—nor did he know—created Inferno. He guesses that Mephitus was supposedly innocent at first until he was manipulated. And Clairius, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Mephitus was all that was on his mind right now.
Lou sighed and stood up. “Well, what does that mean for me?”
“You must help us, fated one. Without a mortal soul to aid us, all will be doomed…” Hertia plea was urgent and life-threatening. She weakly stood up with her supporting staff. “Do you accept this burden, destined youth?”
The boy glared at the sable dagger, which was now protected by a dark, shiny sheath. Lou then met his marigold irises to Hertia’s hidden ones. He was hesitant at first, what was he supposed to do, fight, or save? With the assistance of someone wise, maybe he could make it out in one piece. But what if he doesn’t?
Oh, to hell with it.
“I’ll do it.” Lou agreed confidently.
“Bless you, young one,” Relieved by his acceptance, Hertia grabbed another thing from her large quilt. It appeared to be a plain, white cloak. “Put this on, not only will it make you appear like an Angel, it will keep your nice and warm.” The old woman spoke motherly as she handed the clothing to him. When he put it on, it stopped to his knees and had a hood for helpful anonymity.
“...What about Mephitus?” Lou asked, adjusting the cloak. “Since he’s connected with the blade, he must be here, right?”
Hertia hummed and brought the dark knife to his heart as he grabbed its grip. “Her Mercy have blessed you now, if you wish to summon Mephitus, shine the dark blade against the light.” She anciently stated and the boy nodded. From the sunlight gleaming in from the vibrant Tiffany glass, he raised the dagger’s grey edge to the rays of light. Immediately, the black roses illuminated with white, signifying the successful arrival.
“I-It’s you,” the shaken one said as he stared in awe. “I thought you weren’t real.” Lou studied his every twitch of movement, which was slow and unresponsive.
Mephitus seemed to ignore him as his gaze took its time staring at the dropped knife. His eyes seemed to twinkle in satisfaction. Sauntering over to the shiny thing, he picked it up and glided his fingertips down the inky roses and tendril vines. The demon’s piercing eyes carefully met the boy’s pale and trembling eyes. Threatening or admirable? He didn’t know.
“...I see you’ve awakened, Master.” The silky voice gave Lou an odd feeling. Although his behaviour from before was presentable and sophisticated, it appeared that being trapped in the blade changed him. Lou now refused to isolate him, if he had to. “I… Do imagine that you are dearly upset by my actions before. My sincere apologies… But it had to be done.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head in a respectable manner, hoping to gain Lou’s acceptance.
“I’m actually grateful,” Mephitus grew weary from this response, but at least he wasn’t upset. “Thank you.”
“Mephitus… I’ve longed to see you awake again. Welcome back.” Hertia mused, trying to remember the last time she saw him. She earned a nod in response. “I imagine you’re not up to date on current events?”
“I’ve heard about the catastrophe.”
“Ah, good, good.” Hertia exchanged glances with the porcelain one. “Now that forgiveness has been made, it’s time to commence the adventure. Come, follow me.” The ancient beckoned as she stepped down the moss-covered stone. The demon followed her command as the other hurried to catch their pace.
—————
Lou’s eyes sparkled with amazement at the object he was seeing. A large, round entryway with hanging vines, enclosed by a stable astrological clock. The detail was captivating, golden and blue hues with stars. The golden hands were wave-like, frozen in time from the last use—if it ever was used. Roman numerals looped around the stone, going up to the digit twenty-four. Yet, the clock was still in inactivity for what seemed like centuries.
“Oh, the hand is still at one. Yes, that is very good,” the old one nodded her head towards the astronomical details. “This will give you time to help your journey… Twenty-four days until succession.”
“T-Twenty-four?!” Lou exclaimed. “That won’t be enough time, Miss Hertia!” He gazed at her then to Mephitus, who was quietly observing their conversation.
“Soften your tone, boy,” Hertia wagged her ringed finger. “Now, dear fate, that is quite enough time. With the guidance of Mephitus, everything will go by in a blink of an eye. I assure you.”
“But… What if we don’t meet the due?” The anxious one whispered, afraid of the answer. Surely this was going to be a difficult task for him to do.
“...Well, that would you’ve failed your mission. We will all be doomed,” Hertia had a hint of worry in her tone. “But, don’t you fret, young one. You can both succeed and defeat Inferno, oh, I just know it.”
Mephitus snapped his head toward her comment about that familiar place, but dismissed his upcoming disagreement. He knew that arguments could lead to accusations, he didn’t want to risk it. | a3c09be30d5c485f91f036432546b4fc | ['3dc58cda6681452bbddad0c2885d17cb'] | “Master, I can free you from this hurtful life. Do you really yearn for that wish?” Lou slowly nodded, not caring anymore.
Did he know him? No. Could he trust him? Maybe, maybe not. Did he care? Not a single bit. He was not hesitating anymore. He loved the planet, yes, but certainly not the people. Mephitus said that there was happiness to whatever world that they were traveling to, he believes him. Maybe he is just too naïve.
Mephitus then did something that Lou did not expect, something that caught him off guard. Everything he does is a surprise, maybe he should just expect the expected. He had wrapped him in a relaxing slow dance. Lou only thought that this could cheer him up and distract him, but it was only more stressful because he never danced before. Especially with another.
Lou was so overwhelmed with grief that he did not even try to dance along with him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, not moving as much as he slumped over Mephitus as he leads on. Mephitus wanted to make his last moments of life somewhat peaceful and blissful, succeeding as he saw a tender smile form on his lips.
The ebony creature began to hum a soft, euphonious tune to add to the calmness. It relaxed him and treated to his weeping. They both lazily twirled around in the cold, ignoring the increasing snowfall.
Today was such an abnormal day for the boy. First, he finds a blade. Second, the blade caused a summoning of a demon. Third, the demon announced him as his Master. Not to mention, the crows.
Something about the crows bothered him. He didn’t like them. He knew that they had some sort of connection with Mephitus. And with Mephitus now following him around, the crows will too.
Lou shut his eyelids and listened to the harmonious melody Mephitus produced. It really did help him. Though, something about the lullaby caused him to get a brief feeling of déjà vu. Lou dismissed his suspicions and continued to sway tiredly; a smile still present.
This man made him feel an emotion he longed to feel: pure joy and delight. It was so weird that a stranger, of all beings, made him feel this way. Maybe it was some silly destiny?
Mephitus’ song softly faded away. He gave Lou one last enjoyable twirl before committing something he would regret dearly. But, he had to do it.
He just had to.
Before Lou could say about how joyful he was, he felt a sensation so horribly painful. He had trouble breathing, he had trouble speaking a word, he had trouble trying to protect his gory wound.
Lou’s neck was mercilessly sliced open.
How could this be?
Why?
Fresh blood poured from his vulnerable neck like a crimson waterfall. A waterfall he was drowning in. He tried desperately to stop the bleeding, but it just kept on spewing out. It spilled to the snow, turning the bright hue a dark red. Lou frantically looked back at his murderer, who which, was calmly looking back. He saw his clasped hands trembling.
His vision slowly faded out, taking one last glance at Mephitus. Betrayal and despair—the only emotions that could describe his peril. Glee and joyfulness was something he finally experienced, but now, that was a thing of the past.
Lou’s once bright, sunny eyes formed into empty, deathly ones. His clothes were drenched in dark blood, some even got on Mephitus’ own clothes. Mephitus was not worried about that now. He was worried that this ritual would fail and his first Master could be officially dead. But he was more worried that Lou would hate him when he supposedly awakes. Oh, he would. After all, anyone would have a hard time forgiving you if you were to viciously slash away at their neck.
Lou’s body fell onto his chest lifelessly, his eyes staring into nothingness. Mephitus only embraced him and closed his eyelids as he wiped some blood from his mouth.
Purity and innocence. Lost in a heartbeat.
His manipulative claws stroked his white fur with a slow, fragile pace. He collapsed with him to the cold earth and only rested his chin on the crown of his head, staring off into the blizzard in the distance. The demon cradled the boy in his arms as heavy snow covered them both.
The crows watch closely.
End Chapter One
2. Ageless Fields
The angelic dove was cooing and fluttering continuously above the unconscious boy’s head. They were one of the patient, opposing to the crows. Soon enough, the boy awoke with a startle. Lou had to regain his senses before facing reality. But he was only met with a peaceful dove that cooed once more, its harmless claws situating softly onto the boy’s head. A lovely welcoming.
He allowed the bird to rest on his head as pale eyes examined the surrounding area. It certainly was not the winter forest he was familiar with, it was much more green. Confused, he leaned up from the rainbow flower bed he was laying on. Lou was crowded by different variations of flora, some of which he has never seen before. There were towering trees, bushes with all kinds of healthy berries, and what seemed like millions upon millions of flowers. A delightful aroma was given off from the plants, like lavender mixed with vanilla.
Lou could not decipher where exactly he was. Logically, he thought about what happened beforehand. The only thing he remembers was the mysterious blade, the crows, and his throat being mercilessly being cut open.
Was he dead?
His hand moved to his neck, it was clean and untainted as if never sliced open. |
f673d75384e64adca095844d63d4c3f2 | ['3dd17089d94144eb93e11496d8d6e47e'] | . . . It hurts me to have to say it because I know that it will hurt him. But it needs to be said. Perhaps some day these words will be a comfort to him. That I may help him in death as he helped me in life seems . . . right. Not symbolic or anything as plebeian as all that. Just _right_ , in the same way that it’s right when a hard rain falls after a long hot summer day.
More likely, I’ll only hurt him further. It’s not what I want, but it’s what we’ve always been and I guess that’s what we’ll be until the end. So I say the words my mind provides one last time, in hope that I may bring some comfort . . . closure . . . to the only person I ever truly considered my friend. “As always, my dear friend, you see but you do not observe”.
And then, though I didn’t mean to add anything else, just meant to slip quietly away “It’s okay John. It will all be alright.”
And suddenly, there’s nothing.
_________________________________________________________________
I walk into the Baker Street apartment. My home. It was, anyway.
I’m numb from days of questions, days of words, days of the dead. I thought I’d be emotionless by now. I’m not.
I make myself tea and make my way over to my chair, settling down just like a thousand times before. I stare and stare out the window, not thinking.
It might be minutes, hours, days later (my head won’t keep count anymore) when I decide to go through Sherlock’s things. There’s no one else to do it. Mycroft . . . if it were up to him Baker Street wouldn’t be touched. He’d continue to pay Sherlocks’s rent to Mrs. Hudson and have no one ever step foot in the apartment again. Just to have a little piece of his brother still living in the world, still the same.
I’m different. I know Sherlock is dead. I want to know what he left behind, discover things about him I never knew. I want to feel close to my friend, one last time.
I start with his bedside drawer. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t going to find anything _embarrassing_ somewhere as obvious as that. I’m not quite ready for that yet.
It turns out that I’m not ready for what I _do_ find, either.
At the very bottom of the drawer, beneath tiny books and maps (used for our most recent . . . last . . . case) and beneath needles ( _Jesus, Sherlock_ ), I see it. A little scrap of paper that makes my heart stop. I recognize the bent, torn page, if not the tiny scorch marks. _How the hell had he gotten it, mostly intact, out of the fire?_
It makes me remember my service weapon, sitting on the kitchen table. Makes me remember the way the cold metal felt against my temple.
I know what it is, suspect what it will do to me. It’s from a time in my life I’d rather forget, but one which I’m starting to understand I’m in again. Six years later and I’m back where I started. Probably worse off, to be honest. I don’t want to read it, don’t want to remember, not yet.
I pick up the page.
_It's because I want someone to care for and notice me as much as I care for and notice them._
_I blow things out of proportion so I don't seem so much like myself. So that I might attract the interest of another human being._
_I'm actually the one that needs the comforting. I am always so strong, am always on guard . . .all the time . . . I need someone to allow me to slump, to be my support when my leg trembles._
_"The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care...right? Yeah."_
_But it's just me being selfish._
_I have monsters too, you know._
_So all of this is just for me? But people like it when you care for others . . . for them . . ._
_I hope nobody sees this._
_What am I saying, yes I do. You think I wrote this for me? No. I already know. Someone else has to find it and tell me it's all okay._
_J. H. Watson_
Scrawled on the bottom of the note, in a hurry, like the person writing had somewhere more important to be, there are words written in another hand. The note is dated three days ago, just before . . .
_It was the husband. Killed wife with staple gun. Review office supplies as possible future weapons._
_Get biscuits and milk while out._
_Have long discussion with John about his lack of observation skills. Cannot be allowed to believe he is uncared for. Ridiculous._
_S.H._
**Author's Note:**
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :) | 7ed5682530ed4ff18933e79bcdca15fa | ['3dd17089d94144eb93e11496d8d6e47e'] | “Tony was . . .” Steve stops and clears his throat. Words won’t come, just as they hadn’t come each time he’d tried to write the damn speech over the last three days. Now, just like every time before, Steve sees flashes of memories behind his eyes. Memories of himself and Tony fighting in earnest the first time they’d met; _“Big man in a suit of armor, take that away, what are you?” “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”_. Eventual apologies for things said in anger; _“Tony, what you did – at the battle of New York? You are a hero. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.”_ Late night confessions; “ _I know that dad was one of your best friends. He never shut up about it. And I know you think he was a great guy. Maybe he was. But he was a shit father. Half the scars I’ve got aren’t from my time as Iron Man”_. Even later night revelations; “ _I think I’d like to see what your lips taste like.” “Probably not a good idea, Steve. Relationships aren’t really my thing and I’m pretty sure flings aren’t yours.”_
So many days of being together, just the two of them or surrounded by friends; _“You made me a motorcycle?” “Well, I saw that you weren’t wearing your helmet and, seriously?! Captain America should be setting better examples for our children! Anyway, couldn’t let your brain get bashed in. Super serum’s great, but I’d like to be sure. I’ve added more safety features than you’d ever be able to find.”_ Tony getting on Steve’s nerves, but taking his breath away; _“You know, the Superman comic was based on you, right? After World War 2, kids were all about superheroes, but Superman was first and the most obviously based on you. They pretty much just added flying and an alien background Steve. And, well, to be fair, the general public probably didn’t know about your powers so maybe some of them really **thought** you were an alien” Tony laughed hysterically. Tony was beautiful. _ Hundreds of instances of Tony using the old comic to give Steve a nickname; “ _Hey, Superman, a little help?”, “Jeez, be a little more careful Superman”, “Superman sure is bossy today”, “Kiss me, Superman”, “Let’s fly Superman!” and, “Good night Superman”_
And finally those last moments; _“Steve. I’m not making it out of this one.” The Iron Man mask sits deserted on the broken ground between them. “Tony, shut the **fuck** up, Jesus Christ, of course you’re going to make it.” _
_“Steve . . . my vision’s cutting in and out, I can’t feel below my neck, my heart keeps skipping beats - and not in the good way - and . . . J.A.R.V.I.S. called it about 2 minutes ago. There’s nothing to be done” Steve can’t breath. J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn’t lie to Tony, but . . . Tony starts back up again “There are protocols in place. The team’ll be fine **. You’ll** be fine. Peter . . .” _
_Steve hisses in pain “What am I supposed to say to him Tony? Tell him his daddy’s not . . . . **shit** ” Steve’s voice breaks and Tony smiles grimly. “I know I adopted him. I know you’re not his father. But he’s yours, if you want him. I had Pep make out all the paperwork. Talked to him about it. He knows you. He likes you. He knows this was always a possibility . . .” “Tony he’s **five**. He doesn’t know what death is. Not really. He doesn’t even remember his parents. How could he possibly know what death is?”_
_Silence falls for several seconds while both try to find words. Steve finds them first. “What if he doesn’t remember you?”_
_Tony smiles sadly. “That’s the way of it. Kids forget their parents. It’s the way it should be if it’ll cause him less pain.” “But . . .” Steve starts, but Tony interrupts “Steve. I love my son but I want to spend my last minutes with you. Talking to you. Telling you how much I love you. Telling you that I’d give you the sky if you wanted it and I’d take you back the 1940’s and let you leave me if you wanted to or I’d go with you, even, if you’d let me and I could bring Peter . . . even if they didn’t have **internet** back then. Jesus, Steve, would you really make me give up the internet?!”_
_Steve cuts in, but his voice breaks “Tony . . .”. Tony’s breath hitches and interrupts whatever Steve was about to say. They sit quietly for a full minute at least, until Tony’s breaths are so shallow it’s painful for Steve to hear them. Tony opens and closes his mouth several times before he gets out his final words. “This is goodbye Superman”_
Steve shudders and looks up. Quiet reigns and everyone’s looking at me expectantly and with pity. How can he put all those feelings into words and express his loss? The team’s loss? Hell, the world’s loss?
Steve begins his speech again. “I’ve thought many times over these past few days that maybe it would have been better if I had never met Tony. If we hadn’t even been strangers passing on the street, let alone . . . Because then it wouldn’t be so hard. All I’d have to do is watch it on TV: ‘Iron’ Man’s been killed’ and, yeah, I’d be sad and I’d be angry. But it wouldn’t be happening to _me_. I’d go home and think about how it could have been me but how it wasn’t. Maybe I’d be a little more careful when I’m on the streets fighting evil. |
0cbf48829d6b4313911f794425de625e | ['3de0c78c1b8c417db27d5e0a1ba042d2'] | My my, where dost thy eyes lead thou?
_Obsession is a dangerous drug. Such a cloying sweetness wafts inside me and devours me whole until only one burning thought remains._
_“Make it mine.”_
_A decision so final, forcing me to weave closer, to form the most intricate plan in the hopes of quenching my thirsty desire._
_Do not fear me my sweet balm, you will soon enough dance on beautifully crafted strings, your love for me will blossom like an intoxicating flower and you will not have to hide your true feelings towards me anymore after I awaken them gently._
His moves, fluent like the Silvertongue’s words they wind themselves around his captives with a glamorous grace. One would believe he was planning all along to enchant his admirers. Was he himself already one of those countless victims, swooned merely upon a shared glance? One glance, just one he tells himself, only one to reach conviction. His intense gaze seemingly starts to burn suspiciously at the back of the retreating man. The other turns, his confused and searching eyes slowly wander to his own with a hesitant uncertainty. The seemingly sturdy conviction remains atop the surface as he slowly drowns in those bottomless eyes, shining in the hazy light unlike any amber he has seen before. Deep as the void, leeching off one’s sanity with their presence alone, yet more comforting and soothing than the merciless void could ever be.
Suddenly cutting the connection with a toxic grin he masks the rising tide of inner panic. Raising one of his delicate eyebrows he dares the other man to find flaw in his lies. Wisely the confronted man only presents him with another mischievous grin of his own and resumes his swift walk, never looking back. A brute like him fighting head on should never have such swaying beauty and cunning intelligence, Asgard always proved him right until he came along. Watch him long enough and you will be pulled under by this symphony of a man. A brute and yet a delicate mage tinkering with his magic and the offspring it created, caring for it like his own children. Always adamant to call it “science” instead of the correct term. This already intelligent man just ought to see that it is, was and always will be the same.
But the most fascinating sight to watch is when the residing billionaire forgets or mentally pushes aside another occupant of his workshop when working. All his flourish and serious dedication starts seeping into his movements as the man dances across the large and spacious room with an elegant determination, amusement and enjoyment tingling in the air. And yes, inviting oneself counts as long as you remain undetected. Not even an omniscient machine like Stark’s greatest invention can stand a chance against over one thousand years of experience.
In hindsight he should have stopped those observations of his the moment his motives started to morph into an excuse. There is a saying that states that what you once see you cannot simply unsee. And he did see, only from a changed man’s eyes. It is amusing how much your intentions can muddle your sight and assessment of what is before you. The raven haired man can still clearly remember when his view on the family he once had, begun to change into something cold and terrifying.
But as many assumed, it was not revenge, it never was. His reoccurring visits to Midgard were merely an insurance and maybe some mischief took place but never more. After he was forced to concoct this plan during the nightmarish time under Him every one of them played right into it. But as usual one single individual could always spoil his well crafted plans, just like Thor apparently enjoys doing repeatedly. Luckily in this case his actions were as clear as the still surface of a lake and as easily predictable. Only one man seemed to be unaffected by the sceptre’s magic. It infuriated him, yet as time passed and he observed the mechanic he slowly started to appreciate the failed attempt. This loud enigma of a man is even more capable than he assumed, wielding more power than he first thought. Possibly an equal to him on Midgard,a successful attempt at temporarily making him an accomplice may have even derailed his plan.
_~o~o~o~o~_
The pull of the mechanics existence flickers in the back of his mind, beckoning him closer like a moth to the destructively burning light. His silent feet carry him over the messy clutter obscuring the floor from sight, both men isolated from the outside world. The proximity is now short enough for his long fingers to gently trace the warmed metal framing the mesmerising blue light, its light like a mix of the deepest ocean and the casket of winters. Mysterious and always belonging to an enemy, yet there will always be the pull of curiosity making him unable to resist.
Intoxicating, this lovely sharp smell wafting wildly around them, chocking the green eyed hunter. ‘I need him.’ The sleeping man shifting slightly beneath his outstretched hand, a vulnerable sight, his prey yet unaware of his stoic presence. It feeds him with an overwhelming sense of control, making him lightheaded. ‘MINE.’ The shifting rapidly increasing in ferocity momentarily snaps him out of his reverie and he starts melting into the surrounding shadows, as much to his dismay as it may be, but not before inconspicuously sending one of the workshop’s helpers over to the restless figure.
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you enjoyed this short story with Loki and his musings concerning Tony. | 07da26ddc562431fb76cb9820d612013 | ['3de0c78c1b8c417db27d5e0a1ba042d2'] | “Of course not honey, we always make sure to keep the shield up. As for my goggles, I’m testing them. There seems to be some sort of malfunction.” Thin eyebrows knit in apparent frustration, hoping to conceal the fear beyond.
‘I shouldn’t worry her, I’ll take care of it quickly.’
“What kind of malfunction?” asks a curious voice, attention suddenly shifting to the mother currently cooking breakfast.
The suited figure pauses.
‘I completely forgot that Jazz is way more curious about these things than Danny is, he would just have accepted it but Jazz…’
She opts to go with another version of the truth.
“You know, sometimes they will pick up faint traces of ectoplasm around the house.”
The paling features of her daughter alarm her, making the young woman look scared, close to terrified.
‘I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known this would unsettle her. Of course Jazz would put one and one together and conclude that despite the shield ghosts can somehow enter. We might have seen these traces but any of us could have left them there.’
“Don’t worry, ghosts can’t get through our shield, they never could nor will they ever be able to. As I said, it must be a malfunction.”
The reassuring words seem to calm the unsettled psychology student, tense shoulders relaxing. Satisfied with the defused situation the ruthless hunter returns to the breakfast preparations.
Yet at the back of her head, in the deepest recesses of the hunter’s mind a voice whispers ‘Can’t they?’, coated in panic and cynicism.
‘Can’t they get through the shield?’
**_C.o.P. Jazz_**
With a scattered mind the student turns back to her book, traces of panic and adrenaline still itching underneath tight skin. Eyes slit over sentences without reading a word, desperately trying to seem distracted and calm. Normal. As if nothing significant happen. As if their parents didn’t just find another clue. How many clues until they find out? Three? One?
‘I should have paid closer attention to their inventions. I should have been here. My education isn’t more important than my brother’s life, no matter what he says.’
Uneasy mind still churning and spinning she forces herself to at least pretend to read, draw some seemingly important diagram.
Ballpoint pen hovering over an empty sheet chaotic thoughts have trouble aligning themselves into categories, creating disaster and pushing anything she learned so far away, into dark corners, hiding them underneath the floorboards.
Frustration and panic begin clawing at her chest. Recalling the calming technique the teen sometimes uses troubled thoughts are strictly directed to pragmatism.
‘Alright, she doesn’t know, she thinks it’s a malfunction. But did she say that to calm me? No, she said it before I even reacted, she initially suspected it to be a malfunction.’
Once again unbidden thoughts slither into the forefront of her mind like a sinister snake, spreading venom, poisoning already frantic thoughts.
‘She seemed nervous after I asked her about the shield and the goggles though. Okay this is getting me nowhere, I should just distract the both of us.’
“Hey Mom?”
“Yes sweetie?”
Facing the occupied mother by the stove she tries not to fidget.
‘There is no turning back now.’
“You know that Danny’s trying his best right?”
Fluid movements still momentarily, sizzling bacon slowly removed from the heated stove. A concerned glance inlaid with worry and sadness becomes visible as the mother turns to her child.
“Of course I know that.”
A gentle hand softly touches her shoulder, the still gloved hand affectionately rubbing tense muscles in a soothing motion.
“Danny is a sweet child, he’s just a bit troubled. But I guess you already know that.”
There is care in the woman’s eyes, assurance in her voice and pride in the words that are uttered with strong but soft confidence. Massaging fingers wander from the relaxing shoulders to Jazz’s head and with a few last calming strokes she announces “I’ll finish our breakfast now. Jack should be charging down the stairs any minute now, I’m sure the smell of bacon must have already reached him.”.
The younger woman silently returns to her abandoned research, smiling fondly at her father’s usual shenanigans.
‘How he smells the bacon all the way to his room I still don’t know.’
An alluring smell of bacon slowly begins to fill the kitchen anew and moments later loud footsteps can be heard from the stairs, followed by the exclamation of “I smell bacon!”.
‘If Danny doesn’t wake up from this racket I’ll have to step by his room, usually even just a light knock to his door can wake him.’
Despite trying to concentrate on the book before her the usual banter still registers in her mind, tempting the college student to either give up or move into another room. In the end she stays, the promise of a new invention coming up during the usual banter keeping her rooted in the kitchen.
“I made you your favorite, eggs on bacon.” A playful voice sing-songs in a proud tone.
“That’s why I love you honey.” A quick peck on the lips can be heard.
“Oh?” the indignant tone is like the promise of the storm, yet amusement still colors it in nuances “And here I thought I was worth more than just my cooking skills.”
Out of the corner of her eye the elder daughter can just make out her mother, who is waving around her spatula with a smirk on her lips, eventually holding the offending object between the larger man’s eyes very closely. The man goes cross-eyed, his expression almost making Jazz laugh loudly, who is now snickering at the table.
“I am insulted that you would even suggest that!” A boisterous deep voice exclaims in a theatrically indignant tone, a large hand splayed out against a broad chest like an oath.
His wife tries to uphold the serious expression, but with each snicker from the nearby table it is increasingly getting more difficult. |
4ce2630a7f6846b6ad47c42bc85b2a5e | ['3dfc1124baf34f958001e342dfe1c84d'] | “Jean David,” Paul whispered, and John’s head snapped towards him. Paul was staring at the text that was next to the boy’s face, two red spots colouring his cheeks. There was a look in Paul’s eyes, akin to having seen something so beautiful he could never quite recover from it, his expression bordering to adoration. He was breathing much easier now, but John could still feel his hand shaking slightly where their fingers were still entwined.
John let his gaze trail into the text, and his heart gave another strong jump at seeing the boy’s name with his own eyes.
_Jean David._
“Three years old, a bit shy,” Paul read aloud from the description, and there was fondness in his voice already, fondness and _longing,_ and John knew that he’d do anything to get this kid if it made Paul sound like that. And he’d do anything to get this kid, because he made John _feel_ like _this._
“He likes building Legos.”
“Loves to look at picture books and watch children’s programmes,” John murmured as he read the next paragraph, his shoulder pressing against Paul’s as they hunched together over the text. John quickly pushed his glasses higher on his nose, only then realising that his skin was damp with sweat, having causing for the glasses to have slid down in the first place. “Likes Teletubbies the most.”
“He really likes animals,” Paul said, and his voice sounded choked now. John squeezed at his hand tighter before Paul pulled it away from his grasp to wrap his shaking arm around John’s shoulders, clutching at him against his side like he was never going to let go.
“Looks— looks like a decent chap. An’ comes with the guarantee of pissin’ off France, which I’m always in for,” John said, and Paul let out a chuckle that was cut off abruptly with a sound that resembled a sob when John leaned as close to the man as he could.
_Jean David, 3 years old._
“Yeah?” he asked, voice barely audible.
“Yeah,” Paul said, and John was forced to bring a hand up to wipe at his eyes.
Twenty minutes later Karen came back, and they gave her two beaming smiles.
_***~**~*** _
_ June, 2005 _
“We need to go to France to meet him first,” John said, pouring tea into eight mugs that were resting on a tray, back turned to the others in the room as he faced the kitchen counters. Pyramus jumped up on the counter next to him, trying to come closer and stick his head into John’s tea mug (he tended to do that), but John was faster and managed to throw the cat away.
“Pyramus— ‘ey, Pyramus!” George called in an attempt to distract the cat, and Pyramus let out a meow. There were shouts of protest as the cat apparently bounced on the table, and John managed to turn around with the tea tray in his hands just in time to see Paul getting up and hauling the cat to the ground.
“France, eh?” Ringo raised his eyebrows at them from where he was sitting between George and John’s mother Julia, who was currently reading through the file, a small smile on her face. Next to her at the head of the table Todd, her husband and John’s step-father was peering at the papers as well, looking somewhat conflicted; he hadn’t been very happy about the fact that John and Paul might adopt a French boy, but couldn’t resist the thought of getting a grandchild either.
“Yeah,” Paul said and returned to his seat in one corner of the table, his mother smiling up at him from where she was sitting in next to him. “We’re lucky it’s the summer holidays — so John’s takin’ time off work, we’re gonna stay there for a month, see David as much as possible… learn about ‘is culture as well, ‘cos that’s important. We gotta know where ‘e comes from.”
“David? But didn’t the file say ‘is name is Jean,” Paul’s father Jim frowned, squinting at Paul over his wife’s head. Todd was nodding along, arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s mentioned in the extra details that we got that his current foster family calls ‘im David, due to there bein’ another Jean in the family,” John said and started sharing the mugs around before toppling down at the head of the table, George to his left and Paul to his right. He’d usually sit opposite to Paul, but George had managed to sit his thin arse into that seat before John had a chance to call ownership. It wasn’t too bad sitting at the head though, since now he could see Todd frowning right on the opposite side of the long wooden table, the frown on his face approximately three inches deep now that the family was about to become _multicultural._ The _terror._
(Todd was a decent guy and a good husband, and John knew he’d make a swell grandfather as well, probably, but he was a bit of a conservative every now and then. Everyone who wasn’t a Scouser earned a certain look of distrust at first. _Especially_ if you were a farmer boy from Wales, John loved to remind Ringo, who sadly didn’t buy any of that bullshit.)
(The actual fact that saved Ringo from that suspicious eye was that he came from the Northern Wales; had he come from the South, the Distrustful Eye would have been much, much worse. And at least he spoke _English.)_
“Besides,” Paul shared a glance with John, and there was an undertone of happiness there that had been present ever since they’d come to the decision that this boy was the one; it had been a week since then, and John still woke up with the need to just euphorically shout out of the window. “Jean is a bit too close to John, an’ we don’t wanna confuse ‘im more than we do by default.” | 4e423d955b7a4b9dbd016b1438333667 | ['3dfc1124baf34f958001e342dfe1c84d'] | ”If Paul’s reactions are anythin’ to go by...”
”Aah,” Ringo nodded several times, laughing to himself. ”Yeah, I guess that’s quite a good way to measure it.”
The porn caught George’s attention again, but something nagged the back of his mind. Something that seemed amiss, even though he was aware of most of the things that went through... Paul’s... head-
”There’s somethin’,” he said and snapped his fingers several times, trying to wrap his mind around the small thing that bothered him. Ringo took more crisps and took his phone out, starting to go through different notifications. ”Has- Hasn’t Paul spent an awful amount of time on ’is phone ever since last weekend?”
Ringo munched the crisps, a wondering expression on his face.
”He did seem a bit baffled that three hours had passed, last Sunday I guess.” He pushed even more of the salty potato slices in his mouth and looked like an adorable hamster. George leant closer and pressed a quick kiss on the man’s lips before pulling back and quickly navigating into the spy camera files.
He loved being this wicked.
He checked the live camera from Paul and John’s room, seeing Paul sitting on the edge of the bed, just looking at John. The camera was unfortunately situated so that he couldn’t see Paul’s face, but his hand was entwined in John’s hair, stroking it softly.
”Ugh, they’re so cute,” he let out a stiff noise and Ringo almost choked on the crisps.
”Show me.”
They cooed after their OTP for a moment before George went to see the saved files from last weekend.
_Sunday 14.12.2014 – Kitchen_
He opened the file and fast-forwarded to the moment where Paul got into the kitchen. They followed him with sharp eyes, and then Ringo frowned.
”Is he _reading_?” he leant his head on George’s shoulder. George wished that the video wouldn’t be so grainy.
”Why is he doin’ all these weird motions?” he asked and just as he said that, Paul pulled his face away from the phone and seemed to be grimacing, his whole posture tense. He shook himself from head to toe and then his thumb started moving.
”Scrollin’?” George squinted at the screen. Ringo looked as confused as he felt.
Paul sure seemed to be conflicted with what he was doing.
George then checked the videos from the week, from Paul and John’s room. Paul really did seem to spend a lot of time reading, sometimes making frustrated faces and muttering something to the phone.
”I’d say it’s a story,” Ringo mumbled, ”but most of the time he looks like he doesn’t even wanna read it.”
Paul’s reaction to when John caught him from reading was what baffled George the most. Why would Paul be embarrassed about reading?
Unless…
Unless it was-
”What if,” he whispered, excitement rising in his stomach, ”it’s _fanfiction_.”
Ringo jerked his head up and looked at George with wide eyes.
”Why’d he read fics?” he asked, totally bewildered now. ”He’s read 'em before, I think. Told me that he doesn’t understand what’s so interesting in the whole thing.”
”...Maybe ’e just ’adn’t found the right pairin’ yet,” George’s voice was something between dark and cheerful, and Ringo’s eyes eyebrows started raising.
”The right _pairing_ ,” he hissed and they looked at each other, understanding passing between them at the same time.
”No _WAY_!!!!” George yelled and Ringo let out a wordless shout, his hands coming on both sides of his face. They jumped up and clutched at each other’s elbows, shouting at the same time.
”IF IT’S-”
”IT MUST BE-”
”IT FITS PERFECTLY-”
” _Okay, you two. I don’t care what it is, but bloody keep it down??”_
Ringo and George paused and turned to look at the door, a devilish smile spreading on George’s lips instantly.
”Oh, _Paul,_ ” he called in a sing-a-song voice, jumping down from the bed and went to open the door. Paul stood there in his pyjamas, looking irritated and tired. He was holding a glass of water in his hand, but it seemed untouched. It was probably for John, then.
”George,” Paul raised an eyebrow, not amused at all. George bounced on his feet, unable to stop the dark chuckle that escaped from his mouth. Paul leant back and looked instantly terrified.
”Wasn’t there,” George started, leaning towards Paul, who kept leaning backwards. He would probably fall pretty soon on his arse if he continued. ”Wasn’t there a certain _wish_ in yer mind ’about _somethin’_ that had to do with _John_?” George's grin kept on widening and his eyes glinted rather madly. Oh, Paul had made his whole _year_ with this!
”Er,” Paul started, starting to look around himself as if searching for a place to run to. It would be no use though. George would catch him. He was an expert at catching people who didn’t want to be caught. ”No?”
”I’m pretty sure there _was_ ,” George breathed and got closer, and now he had Paul pressed against the wall. Ringo was following from the doorway with an amused smile on his face, his cheeks glowing with a cheerful tint.
”I-I,” Paul’s breath hitched and George leant forward, let his lips ghost over Paul’s ear.
”Wasn’t it ’bout _anal_?” he hissed and Paul let out a noise that could only be described as _panicked_.
”Haha,” the man exhaled, sounding breathy but like he was out of all emotions. ”I fear I don’t follow-”
”I’m gonna help ye,” George pulled back and Paul’s face was the picture of ”that is exactly what I am fearing for”.
” _Help_ ,” Paul swallowed, still only inches away from George.
” _Yeah,”_ George grinned. ”And if ye’ve got brain, ye don’ come between me’n John.”
” _Between_?” Paul repeated, looking like a goldfish, and then George patted him on the shoulder with a wolfish smile.
”Or, well,” he chuckled and heard Ringo do the same, ”ye can. It’s all ’bout the _context_.” |
db79fa8195d64abe9190ad6e6e2d8a96 | ['3dfc768c755147ac9582b971660e8850'] | “It'd be a little much to hope for anywhere. While I'm not entirely privy to the nature of what your government does, I am given to understand that you are to command the ship in our fight against the Borg.”
Donatra laughed. “I get to die here after all. Well, at least I get to die with my people this way.”
Donatra stood up as Picard took down the forcefield to her cell. To his surprise, she reached out and shook his hand.
“I've underestimated you, Captain. You and your Federation. The Romulan veil of secrecy has protected us for a long time, but... I look at you people, and I realize we were fearing things we need not fear. We saw plots where there were none. I believe you said it was always a game of chess, with us? I'm only now realizing it isn't that way with you.”
“Make sure that message gets to your people.”
“If I live, I will. Maybe one day we can share a bottle of Romulan Ale on my homeworld, and we can find out if we'd truly get along.”
“I think I'd like that.”
Donatra stared at Picard in utter bafflement. “I invite you to my world, and offer you a drink... and you say you'd like that? You don't worry I'll poison you, or replace you with a clone, or hold you ransom?”
“I can't say I did at the time...”
Donatra leaned in close and whispered in Picard's ear. “Perhaps... you should be a touch more paranoid with regards to the clone part. Let whatever source is leaking you information know about that.”
Picard just gave a small nod to signal his understanding. The room was not bugged for sound, but Donatra didn't know that, and probably wouldn't have believed him if he'd said it. Best to just play along, and very definitely ask Liara to look into a Romulan clone of himself.
Shortly after he'd seen Donatra off onto her new Valdore-Class Warbird, the call came through from Janeway.
“Long range sensors have picked up one Borg cube, and one thing that I'm assuming is a Reaper, because it's big, with the cube, and scares the shit out of me. This is it, Jean-Luc.”
“Acknowledged, Picard out.”
Soon enough, Picard was on the bridge again, along with the rest of his crew as the fleet moved out to intercept the Borg. Even the historical significance of the moment, the first time a Federation and Romulan Fleet had ever mobilized as one, did little to ease the dread of the situation.
“Are you sure you wouldn't rather transfer to the Defiant, Mr. Worf? Our tactical officer is new, but will do a fine job. She's your ship, after all.”
“I had... considered it. But it would be an honor to die alongside you, Captain.”
“Your loyalty is appreciated, Mr. Worf, even if I don't share your sense of fatalism.”
He shared it a lot more than he wanted to admit.
“Counselor Troi--”
He didn't even have to finish the question.
“The crew, for the most part, shares Worf's sentiment.”
Picard took a deep breath, pushed a button on the armrest of his seat, and stood up.
“All hands, this is your captain speaking. A great many of you have been my crew for over a decade. Some of you, only a few years. In either case, you have all proven yourself, time and time again, to be the finest crew in Starfleet. I would trust each and every one of you with my life. Today, I'm trusting you with more than that. Whatever your race, whatever world you are from, I am trusting you today, with that fate of my people and yours. In the past, I have lectured on the virtues of humanity. I stand by those statements. I fear, however, I have been leaving out a good deal of my crew, by speaking only of the race I know best. When this day is done, I will personally ensure that the virtues of each and every race to serve on my ship will be recorded, if you will only grant me a little time to know you all better. Today, we are not human. We are not Klingon. We are not Caitian, Vulcan, or Betazoid. Today, we are the crew of the Enterprise. Today, we make all our races proud. Let's make sure history never forgets us. Let's make sure history never forgets the name Enterprise. And once more into the breach, dear friends, once more. In peace nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility. But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the actions of the tiger.”
With that, Picard closed the com channel.
“I noticed you left out the bit about closing the wall with our English dead, captain,” said Riker.
“Let's hope the rest of the crew doesn't know their Shakespeare as well,” said Picard.
“Captain,” said Worf. “I'm getting a message from the Klingon high council. The fleet is on course to flank the Borg forces. They say that they would be honored to fight alongside you.”
“And that today is a good day to die, no doubt,” Picard said, somewhat shocked. The Klingons would be fighting alongside the Romulans. Just Worf fighting alongside the Romulans was shock enough. High Command had reached out, but Picard had assumed they wouldn't be coming. Last he'd heard, that's how it was shaping up. “Well someone had better alert the crew. I'm going to sound rather silly if I say 'Also the Klingons are coming, so we may not be as doomed as we think.' after all that.” | ebbfc0ac81144385b043022bd192a142 | ['3dfc768c755147ac9582b971660e8850'] | It looked like the boarding party had been huge initially. As they neared the engineering deck, most of the Borg were either dead, or catatonic, but the initial boarding party had been large enough that several still remained. Zaeed sighted down on the closest one and let out five rounds rapid through his Mattock rifle to no effect. The Borg had the same sort of shielding he was using. Not impossible to deal with, but who had the time for that?
The squad with him also opened fire. It looked as if the Borg had developed phaser resistant shielding. Not phaser proof. One of the better security officers brought one down with some particularly good grouping.
“Lemme show you how it's done, boys,” Zaeed said, pulling another weapon off his back.
As Zaeed thought, the Borg had no adaptation against the Firestorm. He'd have rather used that Collector Particle thing Shepard picked up, but she had pointed out that, being Collector tech, the Borg would already have a counter for it. There was something more visceral about fire anyway. The smell was horrific, but it was still oddly satisfying, even if the security forces seemed unsettled by it.
“That was too easy,” Zaeed said, once the smoke had cleared and the last of the Borg had been destroyed. “Computer, is that all of them?”
“Three intruders still present, now entering Engineering.”
“This lot were just a distraction people! Double time!”
By the time they got to engineering the place was a mess. One of a coolant tanks had been ruptured, though, Zaeed noted, it was not the crap that liquified organic material on contact, as his organic material remained unmelted. Nor did it seem to be attached to anything important, so he figured it was likely a backup or something. It was mostly just making it hard to see. Which was probably why most of the engineers seemed to be unaware of the Borg. Or, at least, unaware they weren't all dead. While there was a pile of borg bodies, no doubt more that didn't survive disconnection from the collective, three of them appeared to still be alive, and now up and moving again. Even Legion was so absorbed in his work that he had yet to notice that some of the Borg had picked themselves up.
In fact, he didn't notice until one of them pierced his casing with a set of wrist tubes.
16. Chapter 16
Legion
As the implants being built across his network started trying to connect to the collective, Legion understood why these three Borg had survived, while the others had not. He could see into their minds, hear their thoughts... and they were empty.
These Borg had no desire to self determinate. They had no qualms about being in a collective. They didn't even seem fully aware they were in a collective. Constant exposure to the relentless noise of the collective had slowly emptied their minds of any thoughts they might have, any trace of the people they had once been.
Even now they were just trying to carry out their latest orders. There was no mind behind it. The only thing close to thoughts they had was vague confusion, fear, and emptiness, now the voices were gone. Like victims of indoctrination who were total puppets of the reapers, there was simply not enough of them left to survive without control of some sort.
“You will join us,” the three minds thought at him, trying to push their collective will against his.
1,183 programs pushed right back. “You will assist us in making repairs.”
“We will assist you in making repairs,” the Borg said, aloud and in unison. If anything, they seemed to relax. Voices were back. They knew what to do. They didn't have to feel empty anymore.
Miranda
“Status of the fleet?”
“Shinzhou is destroyed. Lexington is destroyed. Saratoga is destroyed. Excelsior is running on emergency power only. Exeter destroyed. Ghandi destroyed. Andromeda has vanished from sensors. Reliant has been evacuated. Borg seem to be ignoring the escape pods for now. Five Romulan Warbirds destroyed. Fourteen Klingon Birds of Prey destroyed.”
Of course the Klingons were getting their asses handed to them. The idiots had decided there was more glory in attacking the reaper. Helpful as the distraction had been for a few moments, now they were dead, not helping anyone, and everyone else had to dodge what was left of their mangled ships.
She also couldn't help but note the irony of sending a ship called the Ghandi into a war, though its destruction was oddly appropriate. She almost wanted to laugh, in fact. It wasn't funny. People, good people, were dead. Miranda wasn't sure if there was something wrong with her that she wanted to laugh, or if wanting to laugh was the only way there was to stop herself getting a post traumatic stress disorder later.
“Felidae is without shields--”
“Captain, the Felidae is firing on us,” Samara interrupted.
“You're sure it's not just friendly fire?”
“It is very deliberate.”
“I would hypothesize their suppression field is down,” said Seven. “The bridge crew is likely assimilated.”
“Lock torpedoes on the Felidae and fire. Warn the fleet to keep clear of the explosion.”
“We don't know that anyone besides the bridge crew is assimilated,” said Seven. “The majority of the ship may have no idea.”
“Acknoledged, Seven. Fire.” said Miranda. She really didn't need that idea haunting her nightmares, but Seven was doing her job. She was supposed to bring matters to the captain's attention, even if the captain would rather not hear it. |
496df33057af4049801c3bc6ea1ee0fb | ['3e000a0209b74937a8c21660b138d5f3'] | Nick glanced at Olivia. He shouldn’t be here, he knew it. But she sleepily nodded her approval and he followed the nurse’s instructions. Then they placed the little bundle in Liv’s arms. “Congratulations,” the doctor said. “You have a beautiful baby girl.”
He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Not that he knew what that felt like. He could only assume that it felt similar to this though. Every muscle seemed to have its own ache. Now, if only his eyes would work.
The room was too white and too bright. And he wasn’t alone. “Liv?”
Her hand was on his immediately and her face was above his. “Rafael.”
“Did we get hit by a bus?”
“Close. An SUV.”
At that, he sat straight up. “Are you alright? The baby?” he had to cradle his head in his hands to stead the spinning.
She kissed him gently. “We’re both fine. Would you like to meet your daughter?”
He opened his eyes and looked at the little bundle he just noticed was in Liv’s arms. “Mi hija?” She nodded, smiling, and slid the baby into his good arm. His face lit up as he held her close to his chest, rocking her. Liv couldn’t help but chuckle. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
He looked over at her. His eyes swept over the laceration over her eyebrow, and the bruise on her neck. “You’re okay?”
“Yes,” she kissed his head again. “You have a concussion and had to have surgery on some bleeding.”
“Were you alone?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Nick was one of the first responders. He stayed with me the whole time.”
He felt a huge surge of relief wash over him and then anger and then guilt. “I’m sorry I wasn’t-“ She shushed him with a look before he could finish the sentence and they both turned to look at the little girl in his arm. “Where’s Noah?”
“Nick and Amanda have him. They’re bringing him to visit.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. “What’s her name?”
“It’s not official,” Liv started. “But I was thinking Nicole.”
Rafael raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Olivia nodded and Rafael kissed her cheek. “Alright, then. Nicole,” he smiled and kissed his daughter’s forehead.
El Fin | 50f8a1ec17564d1fbb4f5ad7c41ea029 | ['3e000a0209b74937a8c21660b138d5f3'] | “Dios mio,” he breathed out. His chest felt lighter than it had in days. She turned towards him, she’d heard his whisper.
He moved the couch closer to the bed and his hand touched her arm and squeezed it when she leaned into him. “Shh, Liv. Don’t try to speak or fight the respirator. The doctors say it will make it worse. We’ve got pen and paper right here. Noah is with Nick and his sister. The shooter is in custody, and no one else was hurt.”
Her hand formed a fist and she looked like she was trying to keep calm, but the monitor betrayed her. “Do you need more morphine? Does it hurt?” Worry creased every line in his face. He looked as tired as she felt. He handed her the pen and pad.
“You look like hell,” she wrote.
He snorted. “You’re not exactly looking your best either, Sergeant. But the doctors are convinced you’re gonna pull through.”
She couldn’t chuckle, but she wrote, “Ha.”
“Tell me if it hurts. The doctors lowered the dosage to help you wake up. They can up it again.”
She shook her head. “Liv, this is no time to be tough. The bullet ripped through your lung and ricocheted off a rib out your back. There’s nothing to gain to by playing the tough guy..or girl.”
He slipped the morphine button into her hand and she grabbed his hand. “Liv?”
She picked up the pen and wrote one word. “Stay?”
“Of course,” he breathed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes met his and he nodded his reassurance. She clicked the morphine button. Almost immediately, she felt the weight of her eye lids increase. Her hand searched for his and squeezed with whatever energy she had left. Rafael stood up and pressed his lips against her for head. “I’ll be here when you wake,” he whispered. |
79749ad36dca47bf9ab831def4a2f555 | ['3e1e9211b244476787d6a1ab7b6b1551'] | Quickly wading through the water back to the closet with the red briefcase, Naruko used the key to and the combination deemed through the cracking of the codes to unlock it for another set of key cards, only these were red and numbered one, two, and three. From what she could gather, the only thing left to do now was swipe the six key cards through the card reader by the door, but to her confusion, after swiping the three red cards, the asterisks on the card reader disappeared from the display after a loud buzzer sound, and the door remained locked. She tried again with the three blue cards, but ended up with the exact same results.
“Why isn’t this working?” Naruko growled, the water just beginning to touch her shorts. After glaring at the painted nine on the door, a light bulb went off in her head. “Of course! Why else would they bother telling me about digital roots?” After a moment of thought, Naruko came to a decision and swiped the cards numbered one, eight, and nine through the card reader.
1 + 8 + 9 =18
1 + 8 = 9
This time, there was a small beep and the light on the card reader changed from red to green.
“Yahoo! I unlocked the door! Believe it!” Naruko cheered. Without further delay, she turned the door handle, and with a great heave, shoved the door open. Her joy was quickly cut short however, as a wall of angry water now shoved her through the door way and face-first into a nearby wall. Pushing away from the wall, Naruko began patting her injured face and then the top of her head as she looked around. The water that had followed her out of the room was now pouring into the hallway, splashing against a nearby set of steps. And at the top of the stairs was…
“Another door?” Naruko questioned as she made her up down the hall and up the steps. “Please please PLEASE be the exit! I want to get out of this crazy place!” Reaching the second door, she pushed it open, only to be greeted by quite an unexpected sight.
Before Naruko lay an ornate staircase, a polished floor, and beautifully decorated pillars. It was as though she had walked right into the entrance hall of a European mansion from the early twentieth century. For a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was truly onboard a ship.
“Am I really on a boat?” Naruko pondered. She turned around and stared down the hall she had come from. “Yeah, looks like I really am on a WHAT THE HELL?!?” she finished with a roar as a wave began to form at the end of the hall, fast approaching her. Freaking out even more than before, Naruko slammed the door shut before bolting up the stairs. Closing the door had bought her some time, for as soon as she reached landing, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she had an opportunity to catch her breath. Turning her heard, she saw a plate mounted on the wall next to the landing, labeled [D Deck].
“What the…What is going on here? Where am I” she managed to choke out. Sadly, her moment of reprieve did not last. Before long, the door was forced open and the water came rushing towards Naruko in full force. Without further motivation, she sprinted up the staircase, taking two steps at a time. Before she knew it, Naruko had reached the top of the staircase, passing by landings with plates labeled [C Deck], [B Deck], and finally [A Deck]. She had barely begun to walk down the hallway to the left when she saw the silhouettes of four people making their way toward her at a fast clip. Before long, she began to make out more details of the four new presences.
The one closest to her was a man in his forties with thick red hair worn in a short ponytail, as well as a beard and mustache of the same color. He wore calf-length black boots, and a long-sleeved shirt and pants a shade of red so light it was almost blinding. Consequently, Naruko mentally dubbed him [Pink].
He was followed by what looked like two teenagers, one boy and one girl. The boy had messy grey hair with pink eyes and a scar running down the left side of his face. He was dressed in brown boots, a grey shirt, and grey pants covered in a bright green poncho. The girl was petite, with a deep tan that reminded Naruko of a surfer, orange eyes, and an orange hairclip in her spiky, short mint green hair. She was dressed in a short sleeveless white midriff shirt, long white armlets, and a short white skirt over it. Naruko mentally labeled them as [Poncho] and [Surfer].
Behind the pair of teenagers stood a reserved man in his mid-twenties, with pale golden eyes, stark-white skin, and brown hair that reached down to his shoulders and parted in a manner that covered his left eye. He was pretty thin, and dressed in a bright blue kimono with an orange sash so long that Naruko couldn’t see his feet. Impressed by the fact that he was able to navigate so well without tripping on his clothing, Naruko gave him the name [Kimono].
Pink ran up to Naruko, took a brief look at her and sighed sadly. “I guess there’s yet another victim,” he muttered.
Poncho was the next to come up to Naruko, muttering as well. “One of us, I take it?” he grumbled. Something about the way he spoke and carried himself indicated experience that contrasted greatly with his youthful appearance, making Naruko question whether or not he really a teenage boy or a (rather short) young man. | 3e7b15fa3bd54e1e92ba762cc624eb25 | ['3e1e9211b244476787d6a1ab7b6b1551'] | "Bart, it's alright! Calm down!" Millie interrupted. After letting out a soft giggle, she continued to speak. "I'd love to go with you. How about we meet by the front entrance of the Institute at around 6:15? That should give us both plenty of time to get ready, as well as make sure we're not in a rush on our way out." No longer trusting his voice, Bart nodded his head up and down very quickly.
"Great! It's a date, then!" At this point, Bart's face was as red as a Charmeleon. "But even so, you should probably have at least something light to eat before you get back to work." Millie pointed down at her own plate, which had a fair amount of rice on it. "If you like, I can give you some of mine. Consider it my way of saying thank you." After nodding once again, only not as quickly this time, Millie nudged her tray in Bart's direction, and for the remainder of their lunch break, all that could be heard from the cafeteria were the sounds of nervous eating and the occasional feminine laugh.
It was at this point that Castform and the researchers who had forced Bart to ask Millie out finally backed away from the cafeteria entrance, satisfied that the first phase of their plan was a success. Now it was time for the next phase, and if the way their boss was acting was any indication, even if they took their time, Bart wouldn't notice anything until they were finished.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Bart was in a haze, barely able to focus on his work. At around 4, after accomplishing next to nothing over the course of the last few hours, the green-haired manager finally decided to just give up and return to his quarters. Once inside, his partner Castform welcomed him cheerfully.
"Hi, Castform!" Bart greeted the Weather Pokemon. "You know, I just realized that I haven't seen you since lunchtime today. What have you been up to?" Suddenly, Castform floated behind Bart and started nudging him in the back. "Huh? Is something wrong?"
It was then that Bart finally noticed that there was something lying on his bed. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a small pile consisting of a package with a small piece of paper taped to it and a set of keys sitting on top. With Castform still nudging him forward, Bart made his way towards the package, which he found to be surprisingly light after picking it up. But what truly shocked was what he found on written on the piece of paper.
' _Dear Bart,_
_It was a unanimous decision that everyone chip in and help buy you a new set of threads for tonight. We also decided to let you borrow one of our cars for the night, seeing as how the two of you might not want to walk all the way to Fortree City. Have a great evening, Bart, and good luck. You deserve it.'_
The letter had been signed by every single employee at the Weather Institute, with the exception of Millie and himself, naturally. Admittedly, that amounted to just four signatures (the Weather Institute was very short-staffed these days), but even so, this made Bart feel both immensely grateful and slightly embarrassed. "When they said that my feelings for her were blatantly obvious to everyone, I guess they really meant everyone," he sighed aloud. But more than anything, he truly appreciated all of the support that his fellow researchers were giving him, for he had never imagined that they respected him so much that they would all be willing to go this far for him just so that he could be happy.
Feeling something rub against the side of his head, Bart turned to see Castform staring at him, a knowing grin upon its face.
"You knew about this, too, didn't you, Castform?" The Pokemon cried out happily in response, which brought forth from Bart a smile of his own. "Thanks buddy." Walking over to his desk, the manager of the Weather Institute prepared to open the package. "Alright, let's see what kind of clothes they got me."
* * *
Two hours later, a freshly shaven and showered Bart stood just inside the main entrance, with a convertible waiting on the other side. Bart himself looked like a new man in his new attire, which consisted of a white dress shirt, long black dress pants, a tie of the same color, and matching dress shoes. Until he had opened the package that contained the outfit he was now wearing, Bart had completely forgotten to look into just what type of restaurant he was planning on taking Millie to. Realizing that those who forced him to ask Millie out in the first place must have overheard their conversation, it didn't take him long to figure out that they must have gone and purchased these fancy clothes for him sometime over the last few hours. The fact that he hadn't noticed that anyone had gone out between lunch and now reminded him of just how nervous he'd been all afternoon and how he was anxious even now.
"If they hadn't done all of this for me, I would have looked like a fool in front of Millie," Bart acknowledged to himself out loud, taking comfort in the notion that there wasn't anyone or anything around to hear him. It appeared that the other researchers at the Weather Institute had already retired to their rooms for the evening, and even Castform had been napping on its owner's bed when Bart had last seen it. |
46bcd1aba2c646eca8f33e9122d166ec | ['3e1f93042aeb401c9194841bb5dba23b'] | The smile Jelena gave him was not a friendly one, it was the smile she gave when she was about to lay a world of hurt down on someone.
“I’m here to help you take down Oscar.”
Unlike Zero and Lionel, Jude did not really have a problem with Jelena. Sure, she was a grade-A bitch, but he’d worked with her when she owned the team, and she’d been the one to sell him the Devils. But they’d never been friends, and everyone knew that Jelena Howard did not do anything out of the goodness of her ice-cold heart.
“Why? What’s in this for you?” he asked.
“Miguel.” Jelena answered quickly. “I get to keep Miguel, and I want to come home, Jude”.
The last part of the sentence was said in the same tone as the rest, but it made Jude stop and take a minute to look at Jelena’s face. Looking closer, he could see that she looked tired, lines of tension visible where she clenched her jaw.
“Plus, I’m the one who destroyed Terrence and caused him to hook up with Oscar in the first place. That’s my mess to clean up.”
Jude contemplated Jelena for a minute, his strategic mind weighing the pros and cons of working with someone that he would never fully trust.”
“Okay”
“What?” This came from Lionel, who’d once again jumped up from the couch.
“We need her, Lionel, and you know it.” Lionel just huffed a breath and sat back down.
“She’s still a bitch.”
Jude laughed at his best friend’s pout. He wondered how many people had seen Lionel Davenport Kinkade pout like a child. They were all probably in this room.
He heard Zero release a breath that he’d apparently been holding. Looking over at him, Jude could see some of the tension leave his body at Jude’s acceptance of Jelena’s help. He still looked mad as hell and Jude wasn’t delusional enough to think that they wouldn’t continue their interrupted conversation. Good, Zero needed to get a few things straight.
He looked around the room, from Jelena, to Lionel and finally to Zero. Shaking his head, he smiled ruefully. Who would have thought that the four of them would be working together. War did indeed make for strange bedfellows.
“Okay, we need a plan.”
33. Episode 33: Not a hero
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Zero and Jude finish their "conversation". Some harsh truths are spoken.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Gah! I know that I said that this part would be coming quickly. Real life got in the way. My dad arrived to visit and immediately ended up in the hospital. He's still there; we'll know more on Monday.
>
> The boys are pretty angry with each other in this chapter. It's not pretty but I think it would be unrealistic for them to not be really angry after all that has happened. And considering the passion that exists between the two of them, it's not that surprising that they can spark each other's tempers.
>
> Don't hate me. (Leave comments instead :) )
**Episode 33: Not a hero**
“Okay, we need a plan.” Jude looked around the room. Jelena’s face was as haughty as ever but tempered by a steely determination. Lionel looked worried at the idea of facing off against Oscar again. Zero, his anger obvious in the way he’d crossed his arms and fisted his hands against his (still impressive) biceps.
He looked at Jessie. “Before we start, Jessie, you need to know, this is going to be dangerous, things are going to get ugly quickly. This isn’t your fight. Oscar doesn’t know who you are yet. You can leave before he ever finds out.”
Jessie tightened the arm he had around Lionel and met Jude’s eyes; his gaze more mature than what Jude would have expected.
“I’m good where I am.”
Lionel turned to him, laying a hand on his cheek. “I appreciate you wanting to help, Jessie, more than you know, but you don’t want this kind of trouble, Jessie. Oscar is ruthless and he’s not going to stop at anything to get what he wants.”
Jessie gave Lionel a small smile and brought his hands up to frame her face. Jude felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment as Jessie leaned in a placed a soft kiss on Lionel’s lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m good.” He repeated and turned back to the group.
“Alright then, we need to see what information we have.” When no one said anything, Jude rolled his eyes. “I know we’ve all been collecting information on Oscar over the years; we need to pool what we’ve got.” Still none of the group would meet his eyes.
“Look, we are going to have to trust each other and work together or Oscar is going to eat us alive.”
Tense silence filled the room until finally Jelena stepped forward and began to speak.
The group talked for a few hours before deciding to call it a night and regroup the next day. Lionel and Jessie were the first to leave, with Jelena slithering back to wherever her evil lair was these days shortly afterwards.
Jude stood facing the closed door, taking a deep breath before turning to face the conversation he knew was coming. He was tired and in pain but knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d said what he needed to say, what he needed Zero to hear.
Zero was still standing against the wall facing the couch. He’d stayed there the whole time that they’d each laid out the information that they’d collected against Oscar. He hadn’t said much but Jude had felt his eyes on him the whole time.
“You need to leave town, Jude.” | 06f4b4d7c17e48ab9b1f2a4492508bc7 | ['3e1f93042aeb401c9194841bb5dba23b'] | “I know. I’m so sorry, Gideon.”
Zero raised his head from Jude’s shoulder “What? Why would you be sorry, Jude?”
Jude stood up, pacing. “This is my fault. Oscar would never have come after you, never have looked for Laura, if I hadn’t pushed you for a commitment. None of this would have happened if I’d just been happy with what we had and kept my big mouth shut. I wish I could go back and do it all over, then you would be safe.” Jude’s voice cracked and he turned away from Zero.
Zero covered the distance between them in two quick steps, gently turning Jude to face him. Jude closed his eyes to avoid seeing the accusation he knew he would see on Zero’s face.
“Jude, look at me.” Jude shook and lowered his head, refusing to open his eyes. Zero pressed his fingers under Jude’s chin, gently lifting his face up. “Jude, babe, look at me.”
Jude couldn’t ignore the plea in Zero’s voice, he’d never been able to ignore Zero. He opened his eyes surprised by the pain he saw on Zero’s face.
“Never say that, Jude, please.” The blond man pleaded “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, the best person I’ve ever met. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but telling the world about us, getting to be with you, was never one of them.”
“But Oscar would never have come after you if you hadn’t come back for me.”
“Do you think I ever would have let you face Oscar alone? Even if you hadn’t taken me back, I would still be here, with you, helping you take down Oscar. I’ve always been Team Jude, and I always will be.”
Jude’s resolve crumbled at Zero’s declaration and he pulled the other man in, placing his hands on both sides of Zero’s beautiful face.
“God, I love you, Gideon.” He declared pulling Zero into a gentle kiss, one that conveyed all the emotion he was feeling, all the love that he had for this beautiful, complicated man.
Zero made a quiet noise as he returned Jude’s kiss, “I love you too, Jude, so much.”
The two stood there, each trying to draw the other one closer, so that no space remained between them. Jude trying to show Zero just how much he appreciated him and Zero wanting to reassure Jude that there was no room for doubts between them.
They held each other for a moment, then both seemed to notice the way they were pressed together. Jude could feel the hard lines of Zero’s chest and legs against his. He could feel his blood heating as it always did, as it always had whenever Zero’s was nearby. He ran his hand up Zero’s back, cupping his head and angling him in for a kiss. This kiss was different than their earlier one. Jude pressed into Zero’s lips, forcing his mouth open, chasing the other man’s taste with his tongue. Never one to shy away, Zero kissed him back just as hungrily.
They tore at each other’s clothes, desperate to put their hands on every inch of uncovered skin. Even though they had made love countless times before, it still felt new. Both had thought they would never have this again. The joy of being able to touch each other again, made them frantic in their actions. Soon they were both naked, their clothing in piles at their feet.
Jude’s breath was ragged as his hand stilled on his lover’s muscled hip. “Did you mean it?”
It took a moment for Zero to realize that Jude had stopped, his mind a haze of wanting. “Did I mean what?”
“What you said to Oscar?”
“That I would kill him?” Zero asked nuzzling into Jude’s neck. He so didn’t want to talk about Oscar when he could feel Jude’s hard cock pressing into his.
“No, that you would never leave me again.”
At the vulnerability in Jude’s voice, Zero pulled back from sucking a mark on the taller man’s neck. The same vulnerability shone in Jude’s eyes. Shaking his head, Zero couldn’t help the cocky smirk that crossed his face.
“You are never getting rid of me, Kinkade.” Zero sealed his declaration with a scorching kiss and went back to working his teeth into the already reddened spot on Jude’s collarbone.
“I meant the other thing too” Zero mumbled into Jude’s hot skin.
“What other thing?” Jude asked, thoroughly distracted by the feel of Zero’s mouth.
“That I’d kill him if he ever hurt you.”
Jude couldn’t help how turned on he was at the promise he heard in Zero’s voice. Despite everything they were facing, Jude felt safe in Zero’s arms, but he definitely did not want Zero to commit murder on his behalf.
“Zero, you can’t say things like that.”
The blond man didn’t bother answering, choosing instead to make Jude gasp as he bit his nipple, swirling his tongue around the tight bud.
Jude felt himself losing his resolve but was determined to try to make the other man see reason.
“Gideon, you can’t threaten to murder someone, even if it is Oscar. I don’t want –”
Exasperated Zero looked up from where he’d been working his way down Jude’s body. “Jude?”
“Yes?” Jude’s voice broke on a gasp as Zero swirled his tongue into Jude’s navel.
“I don’t want to talk about your dirtbag father when I’m fucking you.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
“Okay”
“Good” Satisfied, Zero went back to nibbling on Jude’s hip, the slight burn from his stubble making Jude tremble.
“But we are talking about this later.”
Jude yelped a Zero bit into his inner thigh. “Okay, I get it. No Oscar when naked. But I think --” |
2f10977b0814456e96876baf61c729c9 | ['3e294ef24e30495b93c9d1b2ab486db7'] | Gracelessly, Rey slips before she can lunge, body jerking towards the rusted ground. She cracks the back of her head on the floor and for a moment she is stunned, staring up into the tumult of the roiling clouds, lightsaber skidding through an inch of water to rest some few feet away, too far to reach. As she struggles up, the guards reach them, and the force-pike of the nearest one is thrust forward. Time slows, she reels, fingers scrambling for purchase in the wet, bracing herself for agony of a vibro edged blow.
The air tints red, she can feel the sonic vibrations of the pike as it descends towards her face, _her eyes_. She winces, red behind the lids, face suddenly warm.
“Rey!” Kylo roars, animal, and his desperation fuels her urgency. Her eyes open and she finds a red saber spitting just inches above her face, hissing with rain and the pressure of the force-pike bearing down on it.
She rolls to the side, finding her saber where it hisses and steams in a puddle. Then, with a shout Rey launches herself back into the frey, slipping easily into step beside Kylo, dividing the guards in half. They move with the grace of the water that drenches them, ducking and feinging and weaving between foes and each other. Rey knows where he will be before he is there, and for a brief moment it would seem they have the upper hand, sabers reflecting brightly off the standing water that drenches their boots; light violet on the raindrops.
Then Kylo loses his footing and Rey loses the rhythm of the battle. Separated, Rey is herded towards the edge of the platform, hundreds of feet of open air between herself and the crashing waves below. Above them, beyond them, lightning lances through the sky flashing wild in her eyes. Over their shoulders, between the sleek mould of their helmets, she can see that the other four have fallen on Kylo, pikes sparking and sizzling as they sear through his cape and tunic.
With a mighty clap of resounding thunder she lunges, soaked to the bone, desperate to take on some of his burden as he swings his saber wildly and without form, overwhelmed. But her attempt is repelled, her own assailants crossing their pikes, and when she slams into them her body is shot full of spark and sonic waves. Yelping, Rey reels backwards, body singing with pain, her heels tipping just past the jagged edge of what had once been the throne room floor. Behind her she can hear the ocean, tumultuous, endless and savage. And in that moment, as the pikes, humming with electricity, edge ever nearer; she remembers Ahch-To, and Luke’s first lesson, the ocean far below them, the rhythm of it.
Closing her eyes, wet with tears, she reaches out… _and finds nothing_. There are only two presences alive on the platform, light and dark and everything in between, but only two. _No_. She sucks in a sharp breath, honey eyes fluttering open, panicked. There is another, the darkness she had felt, still feels weighing heavy on her shoulders.
She looks to the guards and suddenly it is so incredibly obvious that she could scoff, but she doesn’t. Behind those phantom masks free of droplets, and those dry robes that sway opposite the wind, Kylo still thinks they’re real. And these mind tricks leave wounds. The flesh of her forearms is tender; wrappings burned away despite their saturation, revealing blistering pink wounds.
“Kylo!” She shouts, stepping away from the edge, saber at her side, no longer afraid. Her two illusions tighten their stance, then spring, force-pikes swinging. They pass through her like nothing, wisps of smoke, dissipating on contact with her skin. Because an illusion is only effective so long as the victim is kept in the dark.
Rey knows he heard her by the way he angles his neck, still he fights them. Four wraiths, untouched by rain, ghosts from a time past. Yet with each sparking strike of a pike he cries, and Rey’s heart aches with the evidence of his pain. She covers the distance between them easily, and with a sweep of her burned arm she cuts away a guard into dust.
“They aren’t real!” She half sobs through the rain, “It’s a trick!” A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, rain so heavy she thinks she has never known dry. Kylo rises, slowly, body aching from when the weapons had been real. The pikes pass through him, useless as he knows their truth. Rey thinks she sees the beam of his saber _swell_ with his rage, the unstable spit of it wild as the lightning above.
His anger echoes in the force around them, then he leaps into the air and spins. There is no grace to the movement, only force and power and deadly strength. Saber outstretched,he carves a neat circle through the remaining three guards. Upon landing with a heavy _thunk_ she can feel through the metal floor, both his rage and the phantoms disintegrate into nothing. Leaving only Kylo and Rey in the cacophony of the rain. _And the darkness_.
The darkness laughs, loud and wicked.
They have only the briefest of moments, not even enough time to close the distance for a final embrace before it emerges from the rainfall in a wall of water. Great, dark and terrible it appears with such force that Rey is sent reeling, only having caught a glimpse of its citrine yellow eyes.
_Palpatine_ , or whatever monstrosity he has become. The rain makes everything less clear, but his shape is unnatural, inhuman. Rey shivers with cold and unease as she regains her balance and drops into a defensive stance. Kylo, a wet blur on the other side of the emperor’s gesticulating figure, is doing the same. Rey can see how he is favoring one leg, wounded by the guard. | 187ca17f5d2b42038cc5ab5ee1848838 | ['3e294ef24e30495b93c9d1b2ab486db7'] | “I love you.” She gasps, trying to make him look into her eyes. But he doesn’t hear her, he only stares, blinks slowly, and then he dies.
Kylo Ren dies in her arms.
_Ben Solo_ dies in her arms.
The darkness that had plagued them is lifted, but Ben Solo is _dead_.
Her wail is a silent one, aimed at the heavens where fighters still clash and thunder still rolls. Rey clutches his raven head to her breast and lets the whole world know her pain, the agony she feels as the bond breaks. Fire in her veins, searing pain behind her eyes.
_It’s unfair_. Why? Why did it happen like this? He was free, he would have come home with her, loved her, they would have been a family, _galaxy be fucking damned_.
Whimpering, she falls over him, fingers finding the mortal wound. Palpatine created the Skywalker’s, and so he ended them, too. It is sickeningly poetic.
It isn’t fair.
How long she remains there cradling a body in her arms, she isn’t sure. But the rain never stops. It soothes the burns and washes the blood away and leaves them only Ben and Rey.
The battle above has quieted, and the sky beyond the weeping clouds has grown dark. Rey remembers when she had first touched the darkness. She remembers life and death. Her eyes widen a fraction as she swallows back bitter hope.
She read about the living force in the Jedi Texts, she knows what it is, how it inhabits all things and gives them life. Choking on a sob Rey shuts her eyes and reaches within herself to find it. He can have some of hers. She will live her life as half a person so long as she does it beside this man. Rey won’t leave this cursed place without him by her side, breathing, speaking, _Ben_.
Reaching inward, she finds it, at her core, inhabiting her whole body, the energy that gives her life and consciousness. And suddenly, she feels it all, the network of living beings existing in tandem; Poe in the skies above, Finn and Jannah and Rose battling on the ground, Leia, weak but alive aboard her transport. All of them and everything in between. Grass, and porgs and rats and fish in the sea far below. The force is alive and it feels her feeling.
Rey could beg. But she doesn’t. Instead she simply directs it, she feels his wound, all blood and viscera. Then she feels the force within her, humming in the air around her, and she _directs_ it.
“Go here,” She mouths. Eyes still shut tight, brow furrowed in concentration as she wrestles to control something not meant to be controlled.
Feeling warmth in her chest, on her skin despite the rain ever falling, she opens her eyes. The light emanating from under her hands is near blinding. She can feel his flesh mending beneath her fingertips and hope swells unbidden in her gut.
When it ends and the force recedes from her the rain washes the last of the blood away from his pale skin. There is a scar, puckered and pink, but his wound is healed. As she glances over him she finds that all of his wounds are healed.
Then she sees his eyes flicker behind sallow lids. They open, revealing dark eyes, tired and confused.
“Rey?” Ben rasps, and she kisses him. It tastes of blood and tears and new beginnings.
**Author's Note:**
> Please tell me what you think, I poured a little bit of myself into this one.
>
> Second chapter (the one with the smut) incoming shortly. **EDIT: There will be no second chapter.**
>
> My Twitter: LINK
> My Tumblr: LINK
>
> I'm going to begin filling prompts in both of those^ places again soon <3 |
df449b21312f496ba36c10be64812f8e | ['3e2c9daccb33478a9e7a9e69ce9ba12f'] | Stiles upends his bag over the next machine and Derek catches glimpses of white socks among jeans and plaid shirts. Derek watches him dump in what must be half a cup of detergent. He reaches for his pocket, yanks a little too hard, and sends quarters spinning across the linoleum. Derek reaches down for the one right beneath his chair, only Stiles does too and Derek watches as Stiles' thumb swipes across the soft place at his wrist and he can't help, can't help but shudder, quick and fragile.
Stiles straightens up with the quarter. "You okay, dude?"
Derek turns in his chair, stares resolutely at his sheets. "I'm fine." It comes out harsh, a little jagged around the edges.
"Huh." The weight of Stiles' gaze burns on the side of his face, before traveling down. It lingers on his foot, which he realizes is jigging up and down. He stops it, and clenches his fingers in the faded cotton of his jeans. Waits.
Stiles doesn't say another word, just scrabbles around for the rest of the quarters.
He sits back down next to Derek and they watch Derek's sheets together. When they're done, Stiles helps him pull the tangled mass out and heave it into a dryer. When Stiles leaves, Derek sits hyper-aware and perfectly still, listening to the pulse of his blood.
***
"Where are you going? Derek! _Derek!_ "
Scott spins him around roughly, panting and flushed and dripping blood and righteousness. "We need your car, man – someone's gotta take Erica to Deaton's."
There's a hole clean through her arm. Derek knows; he got an up close look at Kali putting it there. Stiles is patting at it ineffectually now, while Erica watches in horrified fascination. Derek can feel the leftover adrenalin screaming through his system, veins now too large, now too small.
"I can't."
"What do you mean you _can't_?! God, Derek, this is the least you could do. What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"
Derek tries not to look Scott in his bright, certain eyes. "I mean I can't, Scott."
Stiles and Erica are standing now, watching them, but Scott's eyes are the heaviest. "Do you not even care? You _turned_ her, Derek, you don't get to turn back on that. You’re her _alpha_ – isn't that supposed to mean something? Isn't that something _important_ to wolves? Pack before anything else?" Scott's eyes are wounded, now, and so righteous – so right – that Derek feels bile rise in his throat. "You know what, I don't know anything about wolves. I wasn't born one, I still don't have full control of the shift, but even I can tell that you should _never_ have been an alpha."
Derek can feel that deep itch blooming, pouring out beneath his skin. He digs the tips of his nails into his palms, glares at the forest floor, and, "I know, _fuck_ , don't you think I know that?"
"Well then _act_ like it, Derek! Be better! Convince me that you're actually trying!" Earnest. Scott is earnest. His eyes are wide and his jaw is set and Derek – Derek can't. He needs out. To go. Now.
Erica is shifting uncomfortably as the hole in her arm starts to close, but Stiles is staring at him, gone perfectly still. Scott is still panting and Derek is … tired. So tired, and _still_ about to burst. And Scott is staring at him, looking for something more.
"I didn't take my car."
"What?"
"That's why I can't. I didn't drive here. But I can – I can carry her."
Derek can see Scott deflate. He opens his mouth – an apology, an expression of awkward guilt that Derek does not want – but Stiles claps him on the shoulder. "Nah man, we got this," he says, staring at Derek. "You coming, Catwoman?" Between the two of them, Stiles and Erica nudge Scott into the Jeep. Derek watches until the engine revs, and then he drops to all fours and turns to the forest.
***
The bathroom tiles in the loft are cold under Derek, piercing up through the tears in his jeans. There's warmth at his back, though, and words that, if not soft in delivery, hover around him like a muffling curtain.
"Jesus Christ, we could probably use you as live target practice, for _Allison_ , and do less damage. Lift your shoulder, will you? There we go. Human Pincushion, that's what we could call you – or Wolf Pincushion, I guess. Whipping Boy? Noble Martyr with the Self-Preservation Instincts of a Lemming?"
There are arms wrapped around his shoulders now, agile hands prying free the last shards of metal from his stomach. "Absolute Epitome of Idiocy?"
There's a clang as the shards hit the bottom of the trash bin, and then the hands are back, prodding at the ragged skin, still bleeding sluggishly. They still when they find nothing else, and then Stiles huffs out a laugh against Derek's neck. "God, you are just, like, physically incapable of giving up, aren't you?"
The hands return with a washcloth, also cold, and then Derek's fluffy blue towel, and then they help him to his feet. The hardwood in the main room isn't any warmer than the tiles under his bare feet, but Stiles folds himself down on the couch and tugs Derek down with him.
Stiles settles Derek between his legs, back-chest and thigh-to-thigh. The buzz under Derek's skin is rising through the silence, setting everything on edge, but of course Stiles doesn't notice.
"You weren't supposed to be an alpha, were you?" Stiles isn't touching him, not with his hands, but the warmth of his body is seeping into Derek's bones and his body feels slow.
"No, you weren't," Stiles says consideringly. "Were you the baby? The perfect little boy?" | 08b5177079f846e1bab9fbbd4774d5f1 | ['3e2c9daccb33478a9e7a9e69ce9ba12f'] | Then, then his hands find Derek's wrists. He wraps long fingers around them, rotating them slightly, and settles his thumbs at the pulse points and presses _in_.
Derek goes slow and molten and he sinks, deeply.
When he opens his eyes, Stiles' bright ones are only a few inches away. They pin him, body and core, and Derek knows that he is is locked and shackled, bought and sold. Then Stiles smiles, a slow, spreading thing. "Hi," he says.
He closes his teeth first over the lobe of Derek's ear, and then the tender skin of his throat. He licks across his collar bones and bites, gentle and firm, into the meat of Derek's shoulder. All the while he keeps his hands at Derek's wrists, his thighs across Derek's, his smaller frame pinning Derek's larger one.
He nuzzles at a nipple and breathes across the planes of Derek's chest, and then he raises himself back up. "There. You'll be good for me now, won't you?"
He must see an answer in Derek's face, because he releases one wrist, which remains pinned to the bed, heavy as lead, and brings the other to his face. His kisses the palm softly and strokes each finger from base to tip before circling round the thumb. Then, eyes mischievous, he lays a sucking kiss across the veins. Derek's stomach melts and spreads throughout his body, molten and gold.
Stiles pets at him as he would a dog: behind the ears, under his chin, across the twitching muscles of his stomach. Every touch is … sure. Affectionate. Patronizing and shameful. And damning in the way Derek reaches for every stroke, every press.
Stiles coaxes his legs apart and raises them up, props him wide open to the room and Stiles' own relentless, hungry gaze. He runs his fingers up the backs of his calves, pauses to idly brush at the soft fold at the back of his knees, and strokes up and down the crease of his thigh. Derek has gone loose and heavy and electric for every touch. Stiles smiles up from between his knees, and leans forward to suckle gently on the head of his cock.
Derek wishes for nothing more to reach for him when he pulls away, but his arms are once again golden treacle. Stiles pats his dick approvingly and presses a fleeting kiss to the base when he does not move. "Good boy," he murmurs, indistinct and half-aware.
Stiles' eyes are a brand, unrelenting and hot on Derek's cock, his balls, and then, as Stiles shifts him with confident hands, the softest place of all. Stiles sits back on his heels and _watches_ for long minutes and it strokes something deep within Derek, warm and wrong as a hand on his belly or teeth at his neck.
Stiles meets his eyes again. "No, you weren't the baby, but you were meant for comfort, weren't you, Derek? For compliments and assurances. For pleasure. For _this_." And Stiles lays a filthy wet kiss on his hole – kisses it as though it were his mouth, as though it were the answer to all his dreams, drawing the flesh inside and laving it with his tongue and suckling, deep and hungry.
Stiles pulls back to stare, to watch as Derek goes pliant and open. The cool air on the wet flesh is electric and awful and Derek can feel a tremor – there, deep, _within_.
"But you need to be anchored, don't you?" Stiles asks, and with no preamble sinks a thumb into this softest of spots, and he watches, drinking in every detail, as Derek jolts and shivers and comes, splashing his own chin with the force of it.
When the shockwaves have subsided and the after-tremors are fading, Stiles leans over him. He catches his eyes, and he deliberately places one hand across Derek's shivering belly and curls the other around the back of Derek's neck and he says, clear and slow, " _Good_ boy." And the little gnarled hurt under Derek's skin thaws and runs.
Stiles holds him there, breathes with him, their eyes locked and Derek is _bare_. Bare and naked and soft before him, opened and known.
Finally Stiles smiles at him softly and says, "Do you want more?"
Derek can't move, not even to answer that, but he has been opened now and Stiles can read the answer in his skin and his sweat and the twitching of his fat cock.
Stiles squeezes his neck before pulling back. He rolls Derek over with kind hands – pulls him up onto his knees, and settles his neck so there's no strain. He brushes a hand down Derek's back, bites tenderly at the prominent vertebra in his neck, and then he pets proprietarily over his hole. Derek realizes, as he lays there – open and wanton and _wanted_ – that Stiles is still fully clothed and he goes even softer inside.
Stiles works the lube charitably between his hands before sinking in, so his fingers are just one long, warm continuation of the golden glow. And then – Derek was wrong, his hole is not his core, it is this place, this –. Stiles works him with restless fingers, petting over and over this swollen place. "Yes, here," he says. "So plump. So _needy_ , Derek." Stiles pets it and gentles it along, not enough and yet far too much, digs a fingertip in now and then.
Derek knows he is watching his own fingers, watching where they pierce him where he is soft, watching as Derek shivers beneath him. "Yes," and "there," and "that's it," he croons. And he cups the back of Derek's neck and murmurs "What a good boy," and finally, reverently, as he strokes a fingernail across Derek's plump, swollen prostate, " _Beautiful_." |
466f970bdcc4457194431d88ce0088a1 | ['3e2ea69896214f4fa8fe4dd7ffcbc96e'] |
Reveille of the Golden Knight
**Author's Note:**
> If your favorite parts of Umineko were the fantasy battles, this is the fic for you.
It was the afternoon of October 4th and, as usual, the Ushiromiya siblings were arguing about money. The cousins, meanwhile, were in the guesthouse taking shelter from the storm, both literal and metaphorical. Jessica was pacing angrily around the room. “Money, money, money,” she shouted. “The only thing they care about is money!”
“Now now,” George interjected, “as adults responsible for managing their own business, I’m sure they have lots of things to worry about that we don’t-”
“To hell with that! Battler is here for the first time in six years, and they can’t even get through one meal without tearing into each other?”
“Well I wouldn’t want anyone going out of their way on my account,” Battler said with a rueful smile. “If the old bastard suddenly stopped acting like a bastard just ‘cause I was around, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
Jessica’s next complaint was cut short by a single loud knock at the door. When she opened the door, the hallway was empty save for a sealed letter emblazoned with the crest of the one-winged eagle.
_If you truly wish to save your family,_ _meet me in the rose garden_ _when the clock strikes five._
By five o’clock the storm was in full swing. Dark clouds blocked out the sun, forcing Jessica to shelter under gazebo to stay dry. Just as the cold was starting to cause her to question why she was out here, and to suspect she had fallen for some kind of prank again, a figure emerged from the shadows. He stood some distance away, apparently unbothered by the rain. He stood taller than Jessica, but not by much. He wore a dark suit, with a half cape over his left shoulder bearing the crest of the one-winged eagle, and a large white feather protruding from his beret. Between the darkness, the distance, and the domino mask he wore Jessica could not recognize him, even though there couldn’t possibly be anyone on the island she didn’t know about. Could there?
“Good, you’ve come,” the man began, not giving Jessica any time to contemplate this mystery. “Does this mean you are prepared?”
“Prepared for what? What did you mean by ‘save my family’ anyway?”
The man smirked. “Surely even you can see that the Ushiromiya family hangs on the very precipice of destruction, poised to tear itself apart at the slightest provocation. So I ask again, are you prepared to do what must be done? To hold fast to your convictions no matter what it takes, and no matter what horrible truths you may learn?”
“I,” Jessica hesitated for a moment, and then clenched her fist. “I am. Whatever it takes.”
“Then take this,” he tossed a manila envelope at her feet, “and share it with your cousins. You’ll know the signal to begin when you see it.”
“Wait!” Jessica called out as the man turned to leave. “If we’re working together, at least tell me who you are.”
The man did not turn back. “If I must have a name… Call me Zero.”
* * *
The awkward silence after diner was interrupted by loud banging on the door. The adults rushed to investigate while the cousins shared a knowing look. A small table had been placed in the center of the hall, ornately decorated with candelabras, and a single gold bar stamped with the Ushiromiya family crest placed in the middle. And an equally ornate letter was placed atop it, likewise bearing the seal of the one-winged eagle.
_I’ve grown tired of your petty squabbling over how to divide something that does not belong to you. As such, I have provided here proof that the 20 tons of gold not only exists, but that it all already belongs to me. But as I am feeling generous, I shall give you all one final chance, and I hope you don’t waste it._
_I have hidden the gold somewhere on this island. Each family has already been provided one piece of the puzzle. Whoever figures out the location and reaches the gold first shall be given the full sum. If any of you decide to work together and share your information, then the gold shall be split evenly with each family receiving an equal share. No exceptions._
_However, If all of you fail to find the gold before the clock strikes midnight, then it will be considered my victory. At that time, not just the gold, but everything on the island shall be mine to dispose of as I see fit._
– _The Ushiromiya Family Head_
“The hell is this? Another one of the old man’s pranks?” grumbled Rudolf.
“But why would he give us a second riddle, in same room as the old one at that?” Krauss wondered.
“Maybe it’s his way of saying ‘You were all too stupid to solve the last one, so I made it easier,’” said Eva.
“The idea that we work together doesn’t really sound like dad, though,”said Rudolf.
“Are you suggesting someone would dare usurp Father’s title like this?” Natsuhi huffed.
“More importantly, what do you think they mean by ‘dispose of’?” Rosa asked.
“Hmm, the veiled threat seems pretty clear to me,” Kyrie shrugged. “I’m much more interested in this part, where ‘each family has already been given’ a clue.”
“Oy, brat, what’s with that look?” Rudolf turned on his son. “You know something, don’t you? Spit it out.”
“You really want me to say it, old bastard? Right here?”
“Tch, right. Let’s go.”
“Where do you think you’re going!?”
“The hell do you think? To find the gold.”
As the mysterious Zero watched the chaos unfold from above, a single golden butterfly whispered in his ear. “Are you really okay with this? After everything they’ve done, you’re going to let them off that easy?”
“Quite, witch. I won’t let you interfere.”
“Is that soooo?” The witch crowed. “You wouldn’t have gotten even this far without me. You’ll be begging for my help before long. And besides, what can a pathetic piece of furniture like you do to stop me, anyway?” The man simply ignored her provocations, so the witch instead turned her attention on the maid quietly resting her eyes behind them. “And what about you, hmmm? You’re really going to just let this happen? You know what will happen. When his moronic plan fails, you’re the one who will suffer the most.”
“Well, that may be true,” said the maid, “but I at least owe him the chance to try. And if it does come to that, I’ll be sure to put a stop to it before it’s too late.” | 5c71199b16614adeab6071a0fc4ae5e6 | ['3e2ea69896214f4fa8fe4dd7ffcbc96e'] |
Wheel Clocking
**Author's Note:**
> It wasn't a joke, Kinu.
>
> This first chapter took far longer to write than I'd care to admit. There's a couple more chapters to go, but when they actually get written is entirely up to the whims of my little grey cells. Please look forward to it.
>
> Incidentally, the title came about when I was googling ways to cheat at roulette, and when I saw this term the pun was too perfect to pass up.
** A-Side Part One **
I had this all planned out. I’m seeing my whole family for the first time in six years. The first time as the real me. My hair is perfect, I’m wearing my favorite skirt, and I look cute as hell. I had a plan. I was going to be cool and confident and dare anyone to give me shit. It was all planned out.
SO WHY DOES THIS BOAT HAVE TO GO SO FUCKING FAAASST FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
“Uuu! Battler onee-chan! Fall, Fall!”
DAMN YOU, MARIA, YOU TRAITORRRRrrrrrrrrr
**October 4th, 1986, 10:** **15** **AM**
Oh thank god, dry land, finally. And I even manged to keep my screaming mostly internally. My hands pretty sore from how hard I was gripping the railing though. Oh hey, new guy, Gohda. Christ he’s tall. Seems nice enough. Oh hey, the rose garden looks even better than I remember. And now uncle Hideyoshi is yelling to someone.
“Heeey! If it ain’t Kanon-kun! It’d been so long, how ya doin’?!”
In the direction of the shouting is a slender boy pushing a wheelbarrow full of gardening supplies. There is something familiar about him but I can’t put my finger on it. He seems to have noticed me staring at him.
“...Good afternoon.”
Short, smooth face, he definitely reminds me of some of the guys from that bar in Tokyo. Wait. Fuuuuck. Gohda is saying something now, but my mind is a little too busy being blown to take it all in.
“...I’m pleased to… meet you. I am the servant… Kanon...”
I’m not just making this up, right? Like, projecting or whatever. I mean, judging by the look on his face he’s thinking the same thing I am. How did nobody tell me they had a trans guy on staff. No, of course they wouldn’t. Hell, do they not even know? They probably don’t. Shit.
The rest of the conversation kinda passes on auto-pilot, but as he picks up the wheelbarrow again I notice a stray rock in the middle of the path, which I casually kick into the bushes. Don’t worry buddy, big sis has your back.
**October 4th, 1986,** **12:00 P** **M**
“Pardon me. Your meal is prepared,” comes a timid voice from behind the door.
“Shannon, come in,” Jessica answers brightly. “You remember Battler, don’tcha?”
When she opens the door it finally hits me where I recognized Kanon from.
“I-it’s been quite some time since we last met, Battler-sama. It’s nice to see you after six years. I’m Shannon.” We just saw each other like an hour ago, but I get it. Little weird that nobody else seems to have noticed, but cis people are good at only seeing what they wanna see.
But there are more important matters at hand, like flirting with cute girls. “Ah Shannon, you look beautiful as always.” I smile and lean in. “How about we ditch the audience and go make up for lost time?”
A long pause, and then, “Okay.”
Wait, really? A quick glance around the room confirms that I’m not the only one surprised that line actually worked. Well, no take backs. I grab Shannon by the hand and hurry into the hallway. As I turn to close the door behind us, I see that George’s glasses have gone completely opaque.
Once I’m sure we’re out of earshot of the others, I turn my attention to the most pressing question. “So, do you prefer to go by Kanon now, or…?”
“Eh?” A look of surprise crosses their face. “Shannon is fine, right now.” It doesn’t sound like a very confident answer.
“Right, sure, I get it. Your secret’s safe with me. But damn, there are some guys back in Tokyo who would be very upset with me if I didn’t ask you where you get your binders.”
“That’s, er… not...”
“Sorry, no, that’s fine. You don’t have to answer that. Just couldn’t let it be said that I didn’t ask. But seriously, I wish I’d known, you know? The past six years have been pretty rough, and the last time we spoke I was way overcompensating, and well, I figured, who would want to hear about how the guy they liked was,” I throw my arms wide and gesture at my very much not-a-guy self. “But if I’d known you were going through the same thing, I’d have written you, like, every goddamn day. Er, you… you still with me?”
“Shannon dear, you said the meal was ready, right?” I somehow manage not to scream when George suddenly appears behind me. Whatever just happened, his words seem snap Shannon back into ‘duty mode’.
"Ah, Yes! I'm sorry! ...The preparations for your meal have been carried out, so I shall be accompanying everyone to the mansion."
As Shannon begins to lead the four of us back to the mansion, I decide it’s fine if everyone hears this last bit. “For real though, I’m seriously glad I got to meet you again. I mean it.” Whatever effect my heartfelt words have does not show through the servant’s mask, but they do provoke a lurid glare from Jessica.
**October 5 th, 1986, 1:00 AM**
And here I was starting to hope I could make it through the whole weekend without having to see the old geezer, and now I need go out in the middle of the night in the pouring rain to take some stupid test? Doesn’t the old bastard know a girl needs her beauty sleep? Maybe I should just fail whatever test this is just to spite him. Nah, would probably piss him off more if I aced it.
I’m not even halfway to the chapel when someone burst out of the bushes. “Ka- Sha- Er, what’s with the dress?”
“No time you explain. You need hide, fast.”
“What? What’s going on. Is this part of the test?”
“Seriously, your mom is terrifying. We gotta go. Now.”
“My mom? You mean Kyrie? What does she- Wha- Hey!” But they’ve already grabbed my arm and started dragging me down… a hidden staircase… in the middle of the woods… What?
“This is all wrong. God, Battler, why couldn’t you just be better at solving riddles?”
“What!?” |
7addbffda8a94531a7fc202bee9ba506 | ['3e49a0701dcd4611b4d21d0e8ec7157a'] | hoseok turned the corner to a hallway lined with three recording studios. he passed his own hope world, then yoongi’s genius lab, then sighed as he reached mon studio. he fought back the tears stinging his eyes as he fumbled for the spare key namjoon had given him when they first started dating. back then, hoseok would pop in every night to help joon work, deliver food, or demand kisses.
he unlocked the door and wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. as he opened the door, his nose was filled with the familiar scent of namjoon. a scent that hoseok took for granted. he flipped on the lights and let the door close behind him.
he strolled around the studio, looking at all of namjoon’s figurines and equipment. he paused at a shelf that held about a dozen frames with pictures of the two of them together. some hoseok recognized from dates, others were random selfies. one of them was of them asleep on the couch, limbs tangled. a small smile spread across hoseok’s face as he remembered waking up a few seconds after the picture was taken and hitting a giggling taehyung for being nosy.
hoseok made a mental note to take the pictures back home, then sat on the large swivel chair in front of the computer. hoseok powered the computer on, and as he waited for the monitor to start up, he checked his phone.
_17 missed calls from jin._
_4 missed calls from taehyung._
_6 voicemails from jeongguk._
hoseok ignored the notifications and stared at his lockscreen. it was hoseok’s favorite picture of namjoon and would forever be one of his fondest memories with him.
…
_a stir beside him woke hoseok up from an otherwise peaceful sleep. his eyes fluttered open and he squinted, trying to subdue the blinding effects of the morning sun. once his eyes focused, he saw a smiling namjoon carefully caressing his cheek. “_
_you woke me up, dork.” hoseok whined, his voice hoarse from hours without use. he lightly shoved namjoon’s shoulder and the younger’s grin only widened._
_hoseok couldn’t help but stare as he took in the pure beauty of his boyfriend in the morning light. his bare face was so smooth and tan, and those dimples. god, those dimples would be the death of him. the mop of purple hair atop his head was in a tangled mess, but a cute mess nonetheless._
_“don’t move,” hoseok commanded, then twisted out of namjoon’s grasp in order to grab his phone off of the nightstand. he found the desired object, then quickly snapped a picture. “_
_lemme see.” namjoon whined after almost a minute passed and hoseok hadn’t shown him the picture. “_
_just a sec.” hoseok responded, biting his bottom lip in concentration. “there!” he announced a few seconds later, turning his phone to namjoon. “_
_aww, seokie! you made me your lock screen how cute!” namjoon cooed, booping hoseok’s nose. in return, hoseok leaned down and planted a kiss on namjoon’s nose. “_
_i love you hobi.” namjoon mumbled, closing his eyes as he tugged hoseok back into his embrace. “_
_i love you too, joonie.”_
…
hoseok would give anything to have just one more morning with namjoon. he would give anything just to see his face again. he would give anything to say goodbye.
the beep of the computer turning on pulled hoseok out of his thoughts. the monitor screen turned on, immediately loading the last track namjoon had been working on.
hosek gasped as he read the title. _for my sunshine, hobi._ a song about him? hoseok’s mind and heart raced as he scrambled to find the play button.
the sound that filled his ears was so very different than he was expecting. hoseok was expecting a smooth beat accompanied by namjoon’s hard rapping. instead the intro was a beautiful guitar strum and a piano melody.
about thirty seconds into the song, hoseok heard namjoon’s voice and his eyes immediately filled with tears. he was singing. not rapping. singing. and it was beautiful. the song was in english, so hoseok didn’t understand much, but he could pick out words like “love” and “forever”. hoseok sat in shock, tears streaming down his cheeks. as the song ended, he noticed there were still twenty seconds left of the track.
“you are the light of my life. i don’t know where i would be without you, hobi. you bring a smile to my face and have been there for me during my darkest times. i hope we can make many more good memories in the future.” hoseok let out a sob. poor namjoon he had no idea. life is so unfair.
“all of that is to say, i love you so very much. so, jung hoseok...will you marry me?”
something inside hoseok broke. he slumped down, burying his head in his arms. he let the tears flow out like a waterfall. he cried until he physically couldn’t, eyes drained completely.
“yes namjoon.” he whispered, as that was the loudest his voice could go, “i will marry you.” | 5b5319ee4d9b4b32a3c5b529f29ac898 | ['3e49a0701dcd4611b4d21d0e8ec7157a'] | "aww phil, cheer up," dodie says, putting her arm around phil's shoulders. "he's been looking over at you every thirty seconds." she whispers in his ear before walking into the kitchen, leaving phil with a deep blush spreading across his cheeks.
eventually it gets late, dodie and pj clock out for the night and wink at phil, but he can't seem figure out why.
phil hums to himself as he cleans up the café and goes through his nightly routine. he flips the door sign to 'closed' and takes off his apron. he turns to grab his jacket and keys off of the counter, then out of the corner of his eye, he notices a figure shaped like a human.
he lets out a surprised yell, and so does the figure. phil turns to see the shy customer. he seems to be flustered, quickly shoving his belongings into a backpack.
"i'm sorry to startle you, i didn't notice you were still here." phil apologizes. the man gets up out of his chair, careful to push it back underneath the table.
"i'm so sorry, sir. i didn't realize you were trying to close." he mumbles, his chocolate eyes looking directly into phil's, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks.
"i'm just glad i saw you before i locked up." phil responds with an awkward laugh and the man smiles, the dimples returning.
"my, uh, name is dan by the w-way." he says, holding out his hand.
phil shakes it and feels himself blush from the contact. phil notices his hands are very soft. "hi dan, i'm phil."
"you already told me that." dan responds with a soft laugh.
"you got me there." phil admits as they both walk towards the door. phil grabs his keys and jacket from the counter and flips off the lights.
they both exit the café and dan waits for phil to lock the door behind him, before turning to the left and walking down the sdewalk.
"goodnight dan!" phil calls after him with an awkward wave.
dan doesn't respond, but turns and gives phil a two fingered salute.
that was all phil needed for his heart to burst into tiny pieces.
2. don't you just love the rain?
phil waited for him.
even after four days passed with no sign of dan, phil found himself constantly watching the door. every time the bells above the front door would jingle, phil would immediately begin scanning the cafe for the curly haired boy. phil would linger around the cafe after closing time, just in case dan came in late.
after five days of waiting, phil gave up hope. dan must have been too embarrassed to return. phil went through his day as normal and promptly closed the café that night.
the next morning, phil was not himself. he woke up at seven and barely had time to stop at starbucks for coffee. phil loved getting his coffee early in the morning before the lines got long. unfortunately, he had hit the morning rush hour and the lines were crazy.
phil shoved his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and continued his walk to work. phil finally reached the café where dodie, pj, and even chris were waiting outside for him. it was already 8:15 which meant he only had fifteen minutes to set up and open.
"phil! we were getting worried that you weren't coming." dodie exclaimed as he fumbled with his keys before finding the right one to unlock the café.
"sorry, i overslept." phil explained, his cheeks pink from embarrassment.
"i figured as much, you look horrible." pj commented and chris chimed in, "yeah i've never seen you sport a quiff in public before."
phil's embarrassed blush spread as he ran his fingers through his hair, exposing his forehead even more. he unlocked the door and began walking to the kitchen.
“so, were you up too late doing that shy boy?” chris inquired suggestively and phil nearly tripped over his own feet in surprise. phil opened his mouth to respond, but dodie beat him to it.
"ugh do you two have filters?" she asked from behind, glaring pj and chris before turning to phil, "also don't worry about your quiff, it looks cute and i'm sure that dan would agree."
"thanks, dodie." phil mumbled in response, before grabbing his apron and opening the café.
as the café sprang to life, so did phil. he loved seeing the smile on his customers’ face as he handed them a bag of pasties or a latte.
he had almost forgotten about dan. that is until about noon, when the shy curly haired boy appeared at the door. he was wearing an oversized black and white striped jumper and black skinny jeans with way too many pockets. phil watched dan out of the corner of his eye as he inched toward the counter.
phil nervously gulped. “how may i help you?”
“can i, um, get an iced coffee and some of those macaron thingys you gave me last time?” dan responded, his left hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“of course. that will be €7. for here or to-go?” phil asked as dan held out his card.
“to-go, please.” dan responded and phil’s heart sank. he handed dan the receipt and a pen.
“you lost your stutter.” phil observed aloud and dan momentarily looked up at phil before returning his gaze to the receipt he was signing.
“oh, i guess i, uh, did.” dan replied, handing phil the receipt. phil walked to the display and picked out three of the best looking cappuccino macarons, placing them in a paper bag. as he handed dan the bag, their fingertips swiftly met, causing dan to mumble a “sorry” before grabbing his coffee and rushing out of the café. |
ce41467c4b3b4d65ba4adc85546af59f | ['3e58f8b2ed144d958167ce185a2a7f62'] | Peeta presses his lips to her forehead, dropping a gentle kiss on her skin, and Katniss accepts it for what it is; a gesture of affection, comfort, and love. Something that he gives her unconditionally, no matter how badly she’s hurt him. _That’s_ when she understands what he meant earlier, when he said he didn’t want them to take that from him. His love for her is _his_ ; he doesn’t want to display it in front of the cameras any more than she wants to pretend to be the enamored, ecstatic girl when he finally proposes – but they have to do it, for the sake of their loved ones. Katniss thought that it was harder for her – pretending to be in love when she can’t even figure out how she feels about him – but now she finally sees that it’s just as hard for Peeta; to love her and know that she doesn’t, that she _never_ will, not now that they’re being forced onto each other for as long as they may live.
She doesn’t know how to tell him, that she cares about him, that she’s scared of losing him just like she couldn’t bear losing Gale or Prim. She’s no good with words; Peeta’s always been the one pouring his heart out. Neither of them wants him to do so now, though; it’s her turn to say something, to take the first step towards him. “I wish they’d let us have a toasting first,” she murmurs. “I don’t want a big, fancy Capitol wedding. If we have to get married, I want it to be small and feel like home.”
He freezes, the fingers that had been sifting through her dark waves coming to a halt. Katniss hears the tremor in his breathing, and she regrets saying anything. But Peeta recovers quickly, and draws her even closer, bending his head until his mouth is right by her ear. “We could do it,” he whispers. “If that’s really what you want.”
Is it what she wants? She thinks of Gale and searches her heart, and sure enough there is guilt and ache, but this is _not_ about Gale; it’s about her and Peeta, and their life together. And maybe she doesn’t love him like he does her, but deep down, there’s no denying the growing affection and care and love she has for him – no matter if the ceremony is all for the Capitol, Katniss wants their marriage to be _theirs_. “That’s what I want,” she assures him, her tone firm but gentle.
She entangles one hand from his shirt and reaches for the one resting on her hip, large and strong and warm, and she laces their fingers together. They can go through this, she muses.
* * *
They’re not even married yet and she’s _already_ the worst wife ever.
She wants to tell him that she’s sorry, that she doesn’t know what’s going on with her, why she always seems to screw it up when things finally seem like they’ve fallen into place – but he doesn’t let her say anything. Peeta just hushes her to bed, taking her place at Gale’s side.
Katniss doesn’t even know why she kissed him. It seemed like the only thing she could do to redeem herself; for not telling him she loved him, for not knowing herself if she did, for not protecting him. Never did she intend for Peeta to get hurt, too, even if the damage is hidden inside, unlike Gale’s torn flesh at his back.
She goes to bed and nightmares plague her for hours. She doesn’t even really try to fight them; she deserves them.
* * *
He takes her hand as they walk to the Hob, and though it comforts her, Katniss can’t help but feel guilty all over again. She sees the sadness on his features when he found her asleep by Gale’s side in her head all the time, and she wants to apologize, but what for? Breaking his heart? Not knowing what to do with these two boys who mean the world to her? Sorry seems to be the poorest word for all the hurt she’s causing him.
They stop by the bakery before going back to the Victors’ Village. Peeta and his father exchange small talk, and she realizes that she hasn’t let go of his hand.
She doesn’t want to.
* * *
Prim asks if she’ll try on the wedding dresses, and Katniss can’t help but look over to Peeta. She’s certain that he knows why she took off today, what made her lose it, and for the first time since the night of the proposal, Katniss thinks of that conversation they had in his bedroom. She’s had no time to think about it, with the uprising in District Eight and Gale’s whipping, and all of a sudden she wonders if Peeta’s been waiting for her to bring it.
How is she supposed to do that? Simply walk over to him, wrap her arms around his neck and say, _what about this toasting_? She’s no good at this. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut instead of suggesting it, because surely Peeta’s been thinking that it was all just words and that she didn’t mean any of it, now. Just like she didn’t mean any of the things she said in the Games.
No matter what she does, she just keeps hurting him. She’s so, _so_ tired of that.
He scoops her up to carry her upstairs, and she’s almost on the verge of tears when she has to let go. He tucks her in bed and says goodnight and she _can’t_ , won’t let him go – she’s scared and she’s confused but right now, she’s sure of one thing: she doesn’t want him to ever go. It’s selfish, but she’s so exhausted and in pain that she just wants him to stay with her.
So she asks him. | bc8ec4397cc84f28836eea7cc1876e5e | ['3e58f8b2ed144d958167ce185a2a7f62'] | He doesn’t tell her to go back to her tent and get some rest like her mother would, or that everything is going to be okay because this is _Bellamy_ and Bellamy is a _fighter_ – Jasper and Miller are so adamant about it, their faith in the boy turned into man and soldier they look up to _unwavering_ , Clarke had held tears back until she was alone and then let them all out because she just couldn’t bring herself to hold on hope the way they did.
Bellamy _is_ a fighter; she’s not sure how long _she_ can keep fighting.
She murmurs quiet words of gratitude to Jackson as he exits the med bay, and then Clarke focuses her attention on Bellamy again – if she only has one hour left with him, she will make it count. She memorizes every freckle on his face; thanks deities she’s not sure she believes or _should_ even believe in between his every slow exhale, prays that the song of his heart never ends between each strong beat. Her hour is almost up when she can’t resist it anymore and gets up to sit on the edge of his bed; she delicately rests her hand on top of his, just the softest, barely there touch as her thumb rubs gently against his pulse. “This is _not_ how the story ends,” she says, her voice nothing but a low whisper, afraid that she’ll wake him up. “I let you go – I _sent_ you away – and in turn you were supposed to save our friends and come back to me. _This_? This is not…”
Clarke pauses, swallowing hard as the words get stuck in her throat and she chokes on them, sobs trying to escape her mouth, but she firmly presses her lips together to hold them back. This is not the way she’d imagined this conversation going. She’d let herself fantasize about their reunion once in a brief moment of weakness, longing for the feel of his arms around her and clinging to him like the last breath she would breathe, and she’d let herself believe that if they both held up their end of the deal – Bellamy saving their people, and Clarke making sure the alliance would not break – then maybe all of this would be okay in the end, all the pain and sacrifices they’ve had to make. But looking at Bellamy now, _at them_ , Clarke can’t help thinking that being the noble, brave leaders, _wasn’t_ worth it.
_How could anything be worth losing Bellamy?_
“I shouldn’t have let you go,” she finally confesses, voicing out the one thing she will _never_ forgive herself for. She may not have _forced_ Bellamy to go – he _wanted_ to go, was always willing to risk it _all_ for their friends because that’s who he _is_ – but she also knew he would do anything she asked, even if it meant going off on a suicide mission. She should’ve thought of a better plan, should’ve known that Lincoln was still too weak, that the risks were too high…
It’s her job to _think_ , and she _failed_ him.
She lets out a low, breathy sigh, feeling tears prick at her eyes that Clarke doesn’t feel strong enough to fight at the moment. She feels ridiculous all of a sudden, on the verge of crying as she pours her heart out to an unconscious Bellamy, but it’s the only way she can see or talk to him – even just be in the same room as him – these days.
“I’m sorry, okay?” she goes on when she finds her voice again, but it’s small and rough and broken, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as the apology leaves her mouth. “I know you don’t remember us, I know you think I’m a monster, but I truly _am_ sorry. _”_
There are a dozen other things she wishes she could tell him – that she’ll never take him for granted again, that he means a lot to her and not just because they make a great team, that if she could she would take it all back just to keep him safe – but Bellamy starts stirring, his fingers instinctively closing around hers, and _God_ , how Clarke wants to let herself enjoy it for just a second.
But she can’t.
Slowly, Clarke pulls her hand away and stands, forcing herself to walk away.
(She never sees the lone tear on Octavia’s cheek.)
* * *
**Day 1**
“I found him!” Octavia screams as she rushes to her brother’s limp form, frantic hands pulling him up and searching his body for injuries before they settle at his cheeks, cradling his face. “Bell, come on, open your eyes!” she yells at him, hot tears burning at her own as Bellamy remains unconscious. “Don’t you dare do this to me!” Bellamy doesn’t stir in spite of her shrieks, and Octavia’s fingers are shaking as she drags them to his neck, feeling for a pulse she _doesn’t_ find. “No, no, no,” she murmurs as she presses her ear to his chest instead, hearing nothing over the fast, impossibly loud beat of her own heart.
“Octavia!” she hears someone call out to her, and seconds later Kane is rushing in the small room, his eyes darting around to the monitors and screens and metal shackles tied to the elder Blake’s wrists. “What is – wait, is he –“
She shakes her head, her voice catching in her throat as she croaks her answer. “I – I don’t know.” |
9e0369798a014f75abce732c77aec31b | ['3e80b55855864068a4306b52fbbd39b3'] | Jake could tell this was hard for Rich to say. His boyfriend had gotten better after the SQUIP incident, sure, but not before a severe depression caused by the awful things he’d done while he’d been SQUIPped and the lack of something telling him who to be. And he’d relapsed.
And Jake didn’t even notice.
He bent down instantly, hugging his boyfriend tightly. “I’m so sorry, RIch,” he spouted. “I should have seen this, I should have helped--”
Rich hesitantly reciprocated the hug. “I didn’t want you to notice.”
Jake showered Rich’s hair with short kisses. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said. “I’m so sorry I just assumed--God, I’m sorry.”
Rich laughed nervously. “I would have thought the same, Dill Pickle,” he reassured.
Jake smiled down at him. “I’m gonna help you through this. Don’t think about me being worried. I’m already proud. You contacted help yourself. I probably wouldn’t have done that.”
“Really?” Rich questioned, looking up at Jake and blinking a straggling tear out of his left eye.
“Totally, babe. I love you. Do you need anything right now?”
“J-just you,” Rich answered softly, relief visible on his face.
Jake leaned further down and kissed him for a long while, pouring all of his apology into it.
Pulling away finally, he spoke again. “Color?” he asked, smiling faintly.
“Green,” said Rich, his real smile returning for the first time in weeks. | 59c040f7d5c440e0971dd9af8511b61e | ['3e80b55855864068a4306b52fbbd39b3'] | 1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> HELLO it's me elliot back again w another random idea
> this is short because it is just the intro to the idea! make your choice at the end! choice 2 is coming soon.......sorry about that. i got excited to post!
Attitude: Paranoid
Doubt: 0
Relationships
Michael Mell: 100/100 (Best Friend)
Phil Heere: 76/100 (Father, Deadbeat)
You sit at your desk on a Thursday morning. Your eyes glance at the homework you didn’t do—math, with only your name, Jeremy Heere, scrawled on the top of the page. You sigh. You’re already so behind in that class that you probably won’t pass this semester anyway. Math has never been something you excelled at. Then again, did you ever excel at anything?
Your eyes wander to the rest of your bedroom. Your bed is unmade, because when has it ever been tidy? Your walls are decorated with so many posters that it’s a wonder they’re still standing, what with all the pinholes stuck in them throughout the years you’ve lived in this house.
Your headboard has built-in shelves, which you take advantage of. Your shelves include a Pac-Man arcade sign, some old video game consoles that don’t connect to any TV made since 2005 without a million other cables, empty soda cans, a shadow box full of movie tickets, a lamp, and many, _many_ action figures. Not a single book, though, but you don’t consider yourself a reader.
On the floor is a pile of clothes, which in the dark could resemble a third bean bag in addition to the pair you have seated in front of your television. One for you, one for Michael, your best friend since preschool. You two were practically inseparable ever since meeting on the playground for the first time. It only made sense your room was made for two. Michael has the same seating arrangement in his own room, though it’s larger, since it’s his house’s basement. You’ve always been a little jealous of Michael’s room. His two mothers spoiled him rotten with things like arcade cabinets and mood lighting. You spend so much time there, though, that it’s basically your room, too.
You blink out of your thoughts of Michael and examine the rest of your living area. Yeesh. You really need to clean. At least vacuum. And you should probably stop eating Pop-Tarts on your bed. The crumbs are less than desirable. But you’re a teenage boy, so will you stop? Probably not.
You look back at your computer, which is still loading—only 35%—and sigh again. It’s been like this for what’s felt like forever. You’ve already jumped the gun, thinking your internet connection would be faster than this. You’ve got lotion in your hand, and a rag on your desk, and your feet are kicking in the air in impatience. 36%, 37%, 38%. How long does a boy have to wait for his porn to load?
You check the time to see how long you’ve been waiting, and you make an audible gasp. 6:14 AM. If you don’t get ready now, you won’t be at school in time.
You have a choice to make, Jeremy.
Do you…
**[Keep waiting for your porn. If you don’t whack it, you’ll be uncomfortable all day. _Go to chapter 2._ ]**
or
**[Wipe the lotion off your hands and put your pants on. You’re used to feeling strange anyway. _Choice coming soon._ ] ******
2. Chapter 2
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> heh
Attitude: Relaxed
Doubt: 0
Relationships
Michael Mell: 100/100 (Best Friend)
Phil Heere: 76/100 (Father, Deadbeat)
You close your MacBook Pro as you focus on getting your breathing back to normal. You haven’t gone that hard since...oh, yesterday. You sure go at it a lot, don’t you? You need some time to yourself. That was intense.
You walk to school, arrive sweaty and smelly and bunched up, and check in late at the front desk. You don’t think you had been...busy...for so long, but you’ve already missed half of lunch. You meet up with Michael anyway, and he doesn’t ask where you had been. He probably knows. You horndog.
The good thing is that you don’t miss your history test. You still fail it, but a 60 is better than a 0 or one of Mr. Howard’s grueling make-up exams.
Nothing of any merit happens the rest of the day, or the rest of the week, or even month. You hear about a Halloween Party that got pretty lit, but you’re busy watching Christine Canigula in the school play, from the back row. She doesn’t know you exist, but the letter you wrote for her, and flushed, is still progress. Maybe you’ll sign up for the next school play. This one seems too good to be a high school production. It makes you wonder if magic is involved, but of course you know your peers are just talented. Nothing could make bad actors flip so suddenly into Oscar-worthy performances. You give Christine a standing ovation.
**This concludes your story.**
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> So this is just here to give yall some humor and see how things can change with a small choice! it's short but don't worry, yall know me. they'll get longer!
> STAY TUNED FOR ACTUAL CHAPTERS LMAO |
fea24f4059ed43d192d29e56263fc155 | ['3e84e4d706a34edfb4005eeecf392d45'] | Bucky gives him one more wild look, turns around, and hurries over to the dirt track as fast as he can with a slight limp.
“Wait…” Steve starts, watching him go. He’s tingling all over, a confused mess of emotions.
He wants so desperately to give chase but he can’t leave Toussaint alone any longer, and he senses Bucky needs the space to process their bizarre reunion; honestly, so does Steve. Bucky must be staying somewhere nearby, which means Steve can find him again tomorrow. Just knowing he’s near fills Steve with equal measures of joy and anxiety.
He trudges back into the Shield container with his brain buzzing. BUCKY. After years of imagining how they might meet again, he’d never come up with anything as bleak as this. Bucky’s style had always been easy-going confidence and good-natured smiles, but now he looks cowed, jittery and unhappy.
It all seems so surreal. At this point nothing would surprise him about the depths to which WorldNews would stoop to cause a sensation, but the fact that Bucky had mentioned Pierce himself… that makes things infuriatingly personal.
And what was Bucky doing working for WorldNews? He’d seemed so miserable about it, and Steve could see why. Bucky was talented. Pap jobs really weren’t his style. If Alexander Pierce had anything to do with Bucky’s sorry state, well... Steve would give him no quarter.
When he opens the door to his office he can see Toussaint is heavy-lidded, almost asleep. He grabs a Shield blanket, lies down on the cushion, tucks the blanket around them both, and watches the sky slowly change colour until morning.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Kreyòl glossary (the bits that aren’t obvious / translated in the text):
>
> _Kòmandan Amerik_ – Captain America (obvs)
> _PITA! Eskiz mwen, zanmi_ – LATER! Excuse me, friends
> _Pa gen okenn! Koulye a, mwen pral gen fè yon gade nan mari lèd mwen!_ – No! Now I will have to look at my ugly husband!
> _Alo. Non mwen se Steve, Non… non ou?_ – Hello. My name is Steve. Your name?
> _Siklòn pran yo, yo_ – The hurricane took them
>
>
>
> Love to chat on tumblr
7. The Wall
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Steve reaches crisis point.
**Haiti, 2016**
Steve doesn’t feel as though he has slept at all, but when he slides into consciousness at dawn, he feels a creeping sense of dread and foreboding. His thoughts are running up and down endless staircases, and his lungs just won’t fill. Little Toussaint is still sleeping, wrapped in a blanket, and Bucky is out there. Bucky is trying to set him up, and Bucky is unhappy. Maybe even _unsafe._
Steve is way out of his depth. The excitement of seeing his best friend again has crashed, and his carefully-constructed barriers, erected to stop him feeling too much, are teetering dangerously. He looks again at the child.
“Pull yourself together. People need you,” he murmurs, out loud.
He fixes his gaze at a poster about hygiene on the opposite wall and forces himself to breathe in through his nose, hold it for a beat, and exhale through his mouth. Gradually the pins and needles in his hands subside.
Toussaint stirs, and Steve carries him straight to the children’s base, handing him off to the team there who welcome the boy with hugs and soft words. He almost wants to vomit as he waves goodbye and it takes all his mental strength to bring those shutters back down. _Don’t form personal attachments,_ he recites, as he heads back to the office. He means to head straight to the onsite shower block but instead he sinks down into his chair and buries his face in his hands.
There is a lot of work he needs to get through today to ensure the right supplies reach the right people, but he can’t begin to think about that while Bucky is somewhere nearby. Bucky. Bucky in distress, possibly needing help. Bucky with a camera full of photos which could be twisted by the wrong hands into a troubling reputational risk for Shield International.
His phone beeps on the desk in front of him. He looks up and there, right in his sightline, so obvious he can’t believe he overlooked it before, is a black, long-lens camera.
He gazes stupidly at it for a while, trying to wrap his mind around it. Bucky had taken his camera with him last night, hadn’t he? The answer comes to him eventually, and makes his breath turn shallow again; _Bucky came back. Steve must have been dozing, and he must have snuck in and left the camera._ His skin throbs as he tries to understand what Bucky was thinking.
He picks the camera up and hesitantly drapes the strap around his neck, shuddering at the way it rests against the skin of his neck. Blurrily familiar, like a thought that could be a faint memory or a picture he once saw. He turns it on, and works out how to bring up the images on the screen.
Sure enough, there’s a string of shots taken through his window the night before. Steve sees himself cuddling a frightened Haitian boy in his lap and seethes with anger at the idea of these pictures being used to frame him as a possible abuser. _But they won’t,_ he realises. _I’ve got them now. Bucky left them for me._
A strange feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. He’s relieved that one potential crisis has been averted, but also elated that Bucky, having presumably cleared his head, must have left the camera so that Steve would know he wasn’t going to be mauled on a WorldNews scandal site. | a714b0add7924c2fa17e7bc7803190d5 | ['3e84e4d706a34edfb4005eeecf392d45'] | Bucky’s hands are stroking at the bottom of his back, back and forth, back and forth, and they’re swaying, a little bit, rocking from foot to foot. Bucky releases a loud sigh.
“Are you… are you gonna take your hands off me so I can go to bed?” he asks over Steve’s shoulder, in a wobbly voice that belies his attempted joke. And Steve tries. God bless him, he actually tries to let go.
The road is spinning and Steve is fuzzy with booze, full of longing, body and mind.
“I… can’t.”
Bucky laughs. “What?”
“I can’t take my hands off you.”
Bucky laughs again, awkwardly, and keeps holding on. Steve feels as though the two of them are in slow motion. Their pressed cheeks start to drift, slowly slipping until the very corners of their mouths brush, shocking and thrilling and portentous, like the first raindrop to fall from a black sky. Steve gasps, sucks in a shaky breath. An old song is making its way around his brain. Bucky arm has travelled right up his back, his hand has a solid grip on Steve’s neck.
_If I just hold on to him forever_ , Steve thinks, _I can keep him safe_.
His eyes are closed but his mouth falls slightly open, his face nuzzling searchingly against Bucky’s. Lips brush again, and a desperate excitement flashes through Steve, reflected in Bucky’s shudder.
Noses bump. Foreheads find each other. Steve keeps breathing, licks his lower lip. He opens his eyes briefly and sees that Bucky’s are closed, right in front of him. Somehow the fingers of one hand have found their way to Bucky’s skin, just above his waistband; the fingertips of the other seem to be resting lightly under his jaw, feeling his pulse.
Then someone tips their chin slightly, and at long last their lips meet fully, with neither man pretending it was an accident. The lightning that strikes Steve’s chest leaves him reeling, makes his heart and stomach switch places.
The drink and the Haitian night lend everything a surreal, dreamlike quality, but the feel of Bucky’s tongue sliding softly against his own is vivid and clear. They bleed at the edges, merge at the mouth, mould to each other again. It feels like Steve has NEVER felt: terrifyingly intimate and overwhelmingly _right_. Beautiful and perfect and right.
Haiti and the camp are miles away, and Alexander Pierce is nothing at all; Steve is soaring high above them. The only thing here and now is the rumbling under their skin, the rolling of their tongues, like thunder. A groundswell of elation surges up into Steve’s chest and keeps swelling and swelling, but it never bursts; it just spreads happiness through his body. And then…
Bucky whispers a moan like soft rain.
That gentle sound is enough to break Steve’s feeble control. He has drunk far too much to maintain any decency or inhibition about the blatant hardness of his cock, but maybe he _wants_ Bucky to know, and anyway his hips are moving by themselves, and yeah, it certainly feels like Bucky knows and strongly agrees. Bucky’s tongue turns rough as his hands travel downwards to grab Steve’s ass, and Steve’s blood races, making him dizzy with excitement and desire.
Then abruptly, Bucky pulls away, leaving Steve panting and bereft. He opens his eyes and even dilated against the dark, they’re startlingly blue and pleading. He takes a breath before leaning in again to press his closed lips to Steve’s in a single kiss, confirming. But Steve chases back for another, and then another, and soon they’re _really_ kissing again, trying desperately to imprint each other before the chance is lost for good.
Steve’s heart is still leaping about in his ribcage. He is seriously considering pulling Bucky to the dusty grass at the roadside when the kiss slows.
They get gentler, as if silently agreeing to make a memory that includes tenderness as well as almighty lust. Even while their mouths are still joined, though, Steve can feel the panic of impending heartbreak coming over him. When Bucky breaks the kiss again, Steve presses their foreheads hard together, desperately clinging to the moment.
“Keep in touch,” he implores. “ _Please_.”
“I can’t,” Bucky answers.
The silence is paralysing. Steve feels like he’s freezing in place from the feet up.
“I’m glad I saw you,” Bucky whispers.
“Yeah,” Steve whispers back, tears needling his eyes.
Bucky touches his face with his fingertips. “Let me go,” he says, firmly.
Steve drops his arms and Bucky gives him a small, tight smile. As he turns away Steve grabs him by the hand and brings it up to his lips, and Bucky turns back and gasps, his eyes swimming. “Bucky…” he whispers, knowing he can’t force him to stay.
Bucky gives him a final look, that could be either sadness or apology, before ducking his head and slowly walking away.
“You’ve got my number…” Steve calls, but Bucky doesn’t look back.
“Send me the… picture?” He mumbles to himself as he stands there, helplessly, and watches, as Bucky follows the line of streetlights up the hill to the Hotel, and Pierce, and WorldNews, and Brooklyn, without him.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> 1\. I wish I’d had the time to find out more about Haitian voudou. The two figures on the flag in the bar are voudou spirits called _loas_. Sobo, the thunder and lightning spirit apparently looks like a ‘handsome soldier’, while Bade is his inseparable friend and wind spirit. Together they can invoke thunderstorms.
>
> 2\. I was never quite convinced about how the Evil Organisation HYDRA got so many people to secretly join them in CA:TWS, to the extent that they would be willing to kill Captain America etc.
> |
9c2c3cea0bab4828a65931f02a22f10e | ['3ec598bafbe441b0be75a255401f35f2'] |
1. Question 1
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> If you’re going to be stuck in an island, who would you rather be with? Gouenji-kun or Fubuki-kun?
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Do tell if I forgot someone. Welp, enjoy :)
**Host** **: If you’re going to be stuck in an island, who would you rather be with? Gouenji-kun or Fubuki-kun?**
Endou: That’s a hard question... *thinks really hard about it then looks at Fubuki apologetically* Sorry, Fubuki. I knew him longer...
Fubuki: *smiles in understanding* It’s alright, captain.
Endou: Also, he makes a lot of delicious foods.
Fubuki: *sweatdrops*
Kidou: Me too. I have to say Gouenji. We have a lot more things to talk about.
Sakuma (in the inside): Like their sisters.
Fubuki: I understand. *smiles*
Hijikata: *looks at Fubuki* Sorry, man. *then points at Gouenji* He once lived in our house and I’ve tested him already. His survival skills are way over the top.
Gouenji (whispers mostly to himself): Tested?
Host: Your turn, Fudou-kun.
Fudou: Neither. I can survive by myself.
Sakuma: Fudou! This is an interview. You have to pick!
Fudou: *ignores him then sits boredly*
Kidou: Could it be that you’re actually shy about your answer?
Fudou: Like hell I am!! *frustratedly stands up* If you want an answer then it’s Gouenji! *finally calms down and sits again with a dismissive expression* He’s quieter. There’s no need for much interaction.
Host: How about Kazemaru-kun, then?
Kazemaru: Well, it has to be Fubuki.
*everyone except for Gouenji is shocked*
Kabeyama: Why-su?! We know Gouenji-san the longest-su!
Kazemaru: *suddenly with an uncomfortable expression, remembering those times practicing Honoo no Kazamidori*
Kazemaru: *looks at Gouenji who looks amused* It’s because he’s good at reading people. He can see through me. *kinda depressed*
**[silence]**
Host: W—Well next is... Toramaru-kun.
Toramaru: I—It has to be… Gouenji-san! B—Because I—I—I…
Hiroto: Don’t worry. You don’t need to answer. We already know.
Toramaru: *confused* Know what?
Hiroto: *smiles warmly* That you’re Gouenji-kun’s fan.
Toramaru: *blushes* W—W—W—What?! Tha—That’s not true!! *looks at everyone who was either nodding or smiling* Why are you all thinking that?!!
Kurimatsu: *deadpans* It’s kinda obvious-deyansu. Even Gouenji-san knows about it-deyansu.
Toramaru: *whirls his head to Gouenji who wasn’t looking at him*
Gouenji: *finally looks at him* I can pretend like I don’t know if you want me to though. *smiles warmly*
Toramaru: *covers his face in embarrassment* Kill me now please.
***everyone laughs***
Kidou, to Gouenji: You’re too much, you know that?
Gouenji: I do.
Host: Next...
Kabeyama: Sorry, Fubuki-san. But I pick Gouenji-san.
Kurimatsu: Me too-deyansu.
Fubuki: That’s alright. I was expecting most of Raimon to choose him.
Gouenji: I would have chosen Fubuki though. He can kill the bears and wild animals for you. You’d never be in danger and never out of food.
Fubuki: But Gouenji-kun, your shoots are strong enough to kill too. I doubt that would be a problem for you.
Gouenji: Probably. But that’s not my concern.
Kidou: Then what is?
Gouenji: I’m a supporter of animal rights.
**[silence]**
Fubuki: Gouenji-kun, you’re making me sound like a violent person.
***everyone laughs***
Host: How about you, Tsunami-kun?
Tsunami: Well, it’s hard to choose. *thinks about it for a while* but I choose Fubuki! He can surf!
***everyone sweatdrops***
Host: Umm... Tachimukai-kun?
Tachimukai: I—I choose Gouenji-san!
Host: Why is that?
Tachimukai: W—Well, I watched all his matches and most of my teammates know a lot about him. That’s why… I know a lot about him too before we actually met.
Tsunami: Don’t you just mean you like him because you think he’s cool?
Tachimukai: Tsunami-san! Fubuki-san’s cool too!
Fubuki: Don’t worry about it, I understand. I would’ve picked him too over anyone. Well, maybe unless I had to choose between him and Someoka-kun.
Someoka: *suddenly embarrassed at the mention*
Fubuki: I would choose Someoka-kun.
Someoka: *blushes a bit* You didn’t need to say all tha—
Fubuki: Oh. No. Actually. On second thought, I pick Gouenji-kun. I trust his survival skills more.
Someoka: Hey! You can’t just change your mind like that! What makes you even think I don’t know anything about survival?!
Kidou: Someoka, we’ve travelled together in the Inazuma Caravan. We know you can’t make fire nor cook a proper meal.
Someoka: Oi! You don’t just say informations like that! That’s classified!
***everyone laughs***
Host: How about you, Sakuma-kun?
Sakuma: I have to say Gouenji too. He’s really reliable in the kitchen. Sorry, Fubuki.
Fubuki: That’s fine. I like Gouenji-kun’s cooking more too.
Host: Next is Tobitaka-san.
Tobitaka: Gouenji. His element is fire.
**[silence]**
Tobitaka: *combs his hair*
Host: W—Well, how about Midorikawa-kun?
Midorikawa: Definitely Gouenji! We’ve researched a lot about him back at— *Hiroto covers his mouth*
Hiroto: HAHAHAHAHA… that’s hilarious Midorikawa-kun. *smiles at everyone*
***everyone sweatdrops***
Hiroto (whispers): I told you we’re not going to talk about our Aliea phase here…
Kazemaru: You do realize you have a mic on you, right?
Hiroto: …
Hiroto: Well, I choose Fubuki-kun.
Kogure: He ignored it.
Hiroto: That’s because, like what Gouenji-kun said, he can kill bears.
Kogure: He ignored me, too.
Host: Well, Someoka-kun?
Someoka: *looks like he’s been thinking the whole time* Well, I don’t know.
Kogure (in a mocking tone): Can’t pick? I bet that’s because you want to be with them both. Ushishishi~
Someoka: Darn you, you little sh—
Gouenji: Language.
**[silence]
*everyone stares at Gouenji***
Gouenji: My sister’s watching this show.
Hijikata: Yeah, my siblings too!
Someoka: Tch. Well, I choose him *points at Fubuki* He’s less irritating.
Gouenji: Well, you two do need to be the wind together, don’t you?
Someoka: *blushes* Just what the hell are you implying?!
Fubuki: Don’t worry, Someoka-kun. I’ll take care of you.
Someoka: Graaahhh! *sits down angrily*
Host: How about Kogure-kun?
Kogure: *suddenly stops laughing* Well *looks at both*... I would pick Gouenji-san. *then stares at Fubuki* He’s less... creepy.
Host: Wow, Gouenji-kun had most of the votes! What can you say about it? | 0a2b20fb5bcc4081850b55ca3a3367bc | ['3ec598bafbe441b0be75a255401f35f2'] | "Eeeeeehhhhhh?! Gouenji-san lives there?!" Exclaim almost everyone, excluding Shindou, Tsurugi, and Kurama who are just wide-mouthed at the spectacle before them. They are staring at a giant three-storey mansion with a giant steel gate right in front of them. Inside the gate, they can clearly see the huge front yard with his red sports car and two more cars, a grey family van and a four-seater ferrari that's more of a bloody red than his other one, all lined up at the right side. There's a white table surrounded by comfortably looking chairs in front of the mansion. The left side made the place more pleasant because of the plants and trees that also gives off an irresistible aroma. They're all wearing their casual clothes since their careless coach told them this is just actually more like a friendly get-together than a party. They never would have guessed that they're having this happening on a rather castle-like place. Even if it's just really a small get-together they should have dressed more appropriately to match the place.
"Kakkoii!" Shout Tenma and Shinsuke who are even more excited than ever. Tsurugi, however, is smiling a bit like an idiot. Luckily, no one can see him right now since everyone else is admiring the view. Then there's the wondering Shindou telling himself, 'His mansion's even bigger than mine?!' making Kirino nervous with his facial expression for some reason. The rest has a "Wooow" and "Whoaaa" kind of reaction.
"As expected of Inazuma Japan's ace striker." comments Endou as if it's his first time seeing his bestfriend's house making everyone nod in agreement.
The gates are finally opened by some maids who lead them inside. The members and managers are looking everywhere similar to three-year-olds who went to an amusement park for the first time, or in this case with the pictures, like to a museum. Tsurugi has started secretly taking pictures with his collar of which for some reason has a camera in it while Tenma and Shinsuke are already on with the clicking, openly showing everyone their fanboy side. In fact, they have been using their cameras nonstop, hitting 15 clicks per second beating Akane Yamana's record of 10 clicks per second whenever her beloved Shin-sama is doing something cool like drinking a glass of water or something.
Kariya doesn't want to miss this opportunity and put out his camera, too. Not to take some pictures of Gouenji's stuff but to seize the opportunity of capturing Tenma and Shinsuke's not-so-secret fanboy side for, you know, blackmails.
"Konnichiwa Endou-niisan, Otonashi-san, Raimon Eleven." Greets the pink-haired high schooler with a gentle smile before bowing her head. She's wearing what it seems to be a uniform.
"Yuuka-chan! It's been so long!" greets back Endou who gave her a friendly hug.
"You've grown up like a lady, Yuuka-chan." Otonashi adds making her giggle. Then, they gave each other such sisterly hugs.
"I hope Onii-chan thought the same." She says with a wary smile after getting freed from the hug. "Even now, he's still scaring all the boys he'll see associating with me." she adds in a somewhat lower voice than before.
"I feel your pain, Yuuka-chan." Haruna sympathizes smiling with a similar tone of voice that causes the teenager to smile back. Endou nervously laugh upon hearing this with the thought 'Those two haven't really changed, huh' in his head while the rest of the group sweatdrop.
"Mattaku, Endou. You're always late!" someone suddenly says getting the attention of the visitors. The voice is rather familiar to all of them especially to Endou. He couldn't have forgotten the signature greeting of his best friend.
"Heh! Sorry I kept you waiting!" He answers to the flame striker who has his right hand on his waist. He's only wearing his red shirt that always has been hidden underneath his light sky blue blazer, grey waistcoat, and plain white t-shirt. Tsurugi, however, is already pressing his collar much faster than Shinsuke and Tenma can ever try.
"Apologize to everyone not to me. They're all already here waiting for you and your team." He says smiling leading the way to their backyard along with his sister. ~~~~
* * *
As they arrive, the Raimon Eleven is more amaze than ever. A backyard that's wider than two joined soccer fields where the farther side of it is _literally_ a soccer field and the other half being presentably looking chairs and tables with a mouthwatering buffet surrounded by the same florals at the front of the mansion along with the large soccerball-styled swimming pool. Anyone looking will conclude that the owner has some sort of obsession here but of course, for the other soccer frea- err soccer loving people such as the Raimon Eleven, this is definitely heaven! Their eyes are twinkling brighter than the stars you see at the sky, except for Shindou whose teeth are grinding with each other. Endou, Otonashi, Yuuka, and Gouenji leave them like that and go to the other adults to talk.
"Yo! Captain!" The team gets distracted with another familiar voice.
"Matatagi! Minna!" Tenma greets as energetic as ever to the Earth Eleven team who comes near them with Matatagi Hayato at front.
Just when they're enjoying the chat, a soccerball comes flying to Tsurugi. He catches the ball firmly, showing his amazing reflex and unintentionally reminding everyone why he's the ace striker of both teams.
"Took you long enough." Says the platinum blond standing at the direction where the ball comes from.
"Hakuryuu?!" He says surprised.
"What?! Did ya' think Raimon and Earth Eleven are the only ones who helped?!" Says the ever-so-sarcastic Fudou Akio. Students suddenly show themselves from his back, one by one. There hasn't been a better dramatic entrance that afternoon than what they've shown.
"Resistance Japan!" Says the Raimon trio with Sorano Aoi.
"Yup! These guys are invited too. They did made us realize a lot with that lost." says Tetsukado Shin particularly to Tsurugi. |
6570d3beb0cb4969bd33cbb6e6c27b42 | ['3ec8eb59be224e5292a4aaf7a46a9172'] |
The Colour of Love
Thor and Heimdall walked briskly, side by side, from the palace to Heimdall's station with the observatory. You no sooner had left Asgard than Heimdall sought out the source of your inner turmoil.
"Where did she ask to be sent?" Thor asked as they started out across the rainbow bridge. His tone supported the concern that showed on his face.
"She asked for a peaceful place, but somewhere completely unlike Asgard. She said she wanted to be distracted by her surroundings long enough to get her thoughts together."
"So where is she?"
"I sent her to the edge of a small town in the country called 'Austria', on Midgard. It is cold in that part of the realm now and much different than any clime she will have experienced here."
"Is she warm enough?"
"I gave her one of my heavier cloaks. She was wearing boots; looks more like a young male. Must be wearing a brother's clothes?"
Thor smiled briefly. "Yes; ___ would definitely do that." Regret for not having shared his feelings with you before now was growing. The two of you had become very close as friends over the past few years, but lately, Thor realized he wanted to have a deeper relationship with you. The only thing holding him back was the fear that if you did not feel the same towards him, the existing friendship would be compromised, and that would crush him. You had always been there for each other during both joyous and trying times. Not having you in his daily life, for the rest of his life, was simply unthinkable.
"Would you, too, like a cloak?" Heimdall asked, the slightest hint of humour in his inflection. He managed to make Thor laugh.
"I think I'll be alright." Thor took his place and prepared for the journey. "Whenever you are ready, Heimdall," he said. Moments later, Thor stood, knee deep, in snow. "Damn," he said to himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The air did not seem as chilly as it first did, now that you had found a particularly dense growth of trees that blocked the breeze coming down from the mountains. The sun was shining on the spot you were now curled into; it felt like the mountain knew you were coming and wanted to make you as comfortable as possible despite the snow. The cloudless blue sky provided a beautiful backdrop to the numerous mountains in your view. As you surveyed the awe-inspiring sight before you, your thoughts drew within seeking answers to unspoken questions.
Until a few months ago, you felt blessed and woke each day with a favourable temperament. You welcomed whatever each and every day brought, taking on whatever tasks that lie in wait, as dictated by your parents and the family business. Not a day went by that you did not see one of your closest companions, Thor. Your friendship had developed as a result of your father and his, the King, conducting transactions. He was like cousin, and sometimes you felt closer to him that you did your own brother.
"Peace," you thought you heard someone whisper, and you looked around to see only trees. "Peace," it called again; the tops of the tall pines swayed in a gust.
Thor. You naturally shared your deepest secrets with him after time had brought you close in companionship. You were present at all of the royal sparring matches, which was simply a practice before a fancy-dressed audience. You cheered him on and if he won, he sought out your smiling face in the crowd. If he lost, you sought him out afterwards, to support his tender ego.
Thor always began a query with "May I ask you a question," and you usually responded with a "Yes, of course," or "Certainly", and then he would proceed to ask advice or learn how your day was going. But lately, you found yourself wishing his questions had a more...seriousness in them. You were dreaming at night that his questions were, "May I kiss you?' or "Do you want children?". Your sleep was definitely not as restful as it once was.
For that moment in time when you realized you wanted more in your relationship with Thor. Just when it's finally beginning to make sense, it also seems there is no point in even dreaming the future King of Asgard. He regards you like a sister. Rumours of girls clinging to Thor in the drinking halls had always bothered you, but you did your best to consider the rumours unworthy of further energies.
Oh, but if he asked to kiss you....
Tears began to form in your eyes. 'That will never happen,' you chided yourself. 'There has not been any talk of your getting married at all, and certainly not to the Prince. Perhaps it is just not meant to be....' your thoughts were growing darker. 'If you were going to be anyone's mate, you would have been chosen by now. How much time must go one before you see that no one wants you? Will anyone notice that you are not in Asgard at this very moment? Will anyone truly care...?'
"I don't believe it!" you screamed at the mountains. "There must be someone who wants me; needs me. Oh, please - PLease! If there is no one... no one at all..." Your body shuddered from the sobs wrenching from your soul.
"Peace," the wind again whispered through the tree tops. You stood and looked up at high as you could to those tree tops and yelled, "There is NO peace for me! My time has come. Without peace,....there is no life. Do you hear me?? No LIFE for me!" | 327147d320244cd788d4369f607c8cf9 | ['3ec8eb59be224e5292a4aaf7a46a9172'] | "That's a good strategy when the time is right. I've found myself in that situation; it has always proven to be the right choice. However, no one has ordered you to do anything. I just asked for my towel." His thumb traces your bottom lip.
You poke your index finger into his chest. With every poke, he takes a step back. "That actually hurts...." You keep poking until he backs into the cold marble walls that meet in the corner. He inhales sharply at the shock against his warm skin. Quickly, you take the towel and fold it twice, throwing on the floor of the shower at his feet. "Hey!"
You kneel on the towel. One last glance up into his eyes and you take command of this situation. Except for a low moan, he is speechless. His right palm flattens against the wall to his right. His left hand is buried in your hair; not controlling, just being. His hand in your hair makes you crazy, which, in turn, benefits you both. You take your time for as long as you can handle listening to him. When you are all but lost, you step up your game - payback for that hip thrust from a few hours ago - and send him over the edge.
Ten minutes later, the shower is running again. Phil sits on the edge of his bed, (which he has made) getting dressed. He wears slim, black sweats but holds his shirt on his lap as though he has forgotten how to put it on. He listens to you singing in his shower and is taken by surprise at his physical response. He silently chastises himself for wanting more so soon.
He smiles. He hasn't felt quite this relaxed in months, maybe years. He likes how this feels, and he knows he's going to do whatever it takes to see that this lasts forever. He looks towards the direction of your voice. "I should have played those mind games a long time ago. We'd have kids by now."
********
(Monday morning.)
Phil meets you in the busy hallway at work. You are heading for a meeting that does not involve him and he is heading for the elevator. Once you are within earshot, he asks "Can I see you for a minute in my office?"
"Not a chance." is your quiet and quick reply.
"Didn't think so."
You are both smiling broadly, having never missed a step towards your destinations.
Your phone tings with an incoming text message: Later tonight?
Your reply: You know it. |
658fb9e72ec1406da2141e514bd4ae19 | ['3ed09475ddd84f6f8cc81704d07ad7c9'] | "Then go to the nearest cemetery and dust a couple of vamps, maybe find one of those demons with the huge horns and basically hard to kill?" she suggested to the now annoying vampire.
"A fayrl demon?"
"Yeah! One of those."
"I'm not leaving you here unprotected - not that I don't think you can protect yourself." He added as she began to glare at him with the same narrowed eyes the other slayers use, promising a world of torture.
"Either you want to protect me," she sneered, "or you just can't wait to see your lover after sooo long."
"Maybe both," Spike admitted sheepishly, "but still, I haven't killed for days. I've got a blood lust going and if I don't get out in the next five minutes then someone in this room is going to end up broken and bleeding on the floor!"
"Preferably you from my foot repeatedly coming into contact with your crotch," Knives joked, "if you really feel the need then go. I'll stay inside with Lorne, just go I'll be alright." she insisted.
Spike thought for a good long while, thinking of many things that could go wrong but most unlikely to happen if she stays indoors the entire time. "You're sure?" Knives nodded impatiently. "All right, don't answer the door unless it's the scoobies or your take-out. I'll be back in half an hour." He didn't take his eyes off her as he made his way out, opening the door and slipping out as the two supernatural beings on the sofa bid him a 'see you later'.
Lorne kept quiet as they argued over such a gruesome topic til Spike left. "I don't know about him, but you can be very scary at times, Sweet Cheeks."
"I know," a brief silence fell between them, the only sound in the room was the TV. "So, what do you think? Which church got banned in 2009 from editing articles on Wikipedia? I'm thinking it's the Church of Scientology."
Buffy rhythmically tapped her foot against the lifejacket beneath her seat, irritating her little sister what sat behind her. Anxiously, she twisted the blanket in her fists as she grew impatient to land, just waiting to see her vampire again. She knew that there's the whole Dark Soul summoned to destroy the slayer line, beginning with the youngest of the three. But she just longed for Spike for the past couple of days, or was it months?
Remembering their conversation on the phone couple of nights ago, she blushed at the truth of it. She had missed their time in the bedroom, she struggled to sleep without the comfort of her lover's arms around her.
"You all right, B?" Faith asked as she watched Buffy twist the thin blanket into knots. Buffy looked to her sister slayer next to her then back down at the knotted blanket.
"Yeah, I'm just nervous about meeting up with Spike."
Faith looked at the older slayer's blushing face and fully understood what was going through her head. "Oh. So what's first? Talking out this situation or a quick bump an' tickle?"
"If we can keep our hands to ourselves - probably a huge effort for Spike - we are going to talk out the plan to keep her safe."
"Lets just hope that we don't bump into that Dark Soul, 'cause I don't know about you but I really don't want to go up against him. Unless it's Angelus we'll probably be fine, we've taken him out before. Though this new girl, she might not be able to fair against him from what your honey's told us."
"That's very reassuring, Faith." Buffy commented and went back to twisting the knotted fabric and kicking the stored life preserver.
"Hey!" Dawn yelled.
The program finished ten minutes after Spike - somewhat - reluctantly left to do a quick patrol and all there was left to watch were box office hits, she argued with Lorne over watching either a comedy horror or a musical. Obviously she won the fight since she had the remote in hand and Lorne was afraid of a repeat with the throwing knife, and she chose the remake of Fright Night. Lorne came over a bit queasy as they watched the vampire Jerry bite the main character's best friend, he didn't like the look of the vamps in the film, thinking that they looked more frightening than the real ones.
"Do you think that they make different types of fake blood?" Knives asked curiously. Lorne peeked a look at the non-fazed girl, he admired how calm she seemed about the situation but also worried for her if she kept those walls up and shut people out, if she survived and still had them up she might not know true happiness.
"What?"
"Fake blood. Do you think they make different types?" Lorne just squirmed at the thought of the red liquid. "I mean you see actors drinking the stuff on TV and there's the kind they use to create blood splatter on set or for makeup."
"Uh, might do, Kiddo. But I tend to not go near that topic." Lorne grimaced, he didn't particularly like discussions involving blood, gore and violence; hence why he tried to look anywhere but the TV. "So, how you handling this situation?" Knives just bowed her head at the reminder of what's been happening these past few days; the nightmare, the marks, Lorne's reading. He suddenly felt guilty for asking.
"I really don't know," Knives began, her voice so quiet; almost inaudible. "I mean, I was so scared at the beginning but," she sighed, "now with the other slayers and their gang and Spike, you. All protecting me, probably shut out from the world. I don't know how to handle this." Lorne finally saw her walls come down just like that, seeing her struggle to hold herself together. | f2323d3f701b48e3a32d5cf7c33f7f88 | ['3ed09475ddd84f6f8cc81704d07ad7c9'] | "Well," the vampire began casually, "since you offered so nicely. I was wondering if you could tell a bloke where he might find a certain girl."
This time, Spike slept comfortably on his air bed in the reasonably-sized walk in closet. He managed to sleep for many hours today, catching up with his sleep from yesterday when suddenly he was awoken by a thump and a muffled curse coming from the lounge. Spike immediately got up, carelessly pulled on his jeans before barging into the room.
He found Knives sprawled on the floor, a 'How to learn karate' DVD playing on the TV and a kick-boxing stand set up next to the minor-ly injured slayer.
"Bit, what are you doing?" Spike asked curiously with one scarred eyebrow raised in question of her state.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm falling on my ass that's what." She replied sarcastically, rubbing her sore tail bone.
Spike looked back at the DVD still playing on the screen then back to Knives as she stayed sat up on the floor. "You know those DVD's are a bunch of bull, right?" He asked as he offered her a hand up.
"I know," she admitted, "but their the closest things I've got to training." She went over to the TV and ejected the disk from the player and put it back in its case before turning back to the vampire, who was biting back a laugh from the sight of a slayer learning from a karate DVD.
"Yeah, laugh it up. Slayer training from a karate video, very funny." She accused him when he couldn't help a snort then just gave out and bellowed in laughter.
When Spike managed to catch his breath and stand up without falling over with another snort, he turned to the annoyed looking girl waiting impatiently for him to finish up his laugh fest.
"You done?" She sternly asked.
"Sorry, didn't think you trained like that, pet. If you want we could start training now that I'm up." Spike offered kindly.
"Only if you put on a shirt," Knives blushed prettily as she finally noticed his bare, well-built torso, "and you might want to do up your jeans before they fall down." She gestured at said jeans which were undone and starting to ride low on his hips, the prominent hip bones peeking out.
Spike smirked at Knives' reddening face and increasing pulse as he done up the zip and button, turned towards the closet to fling on his black tee. Moments later, he walked back into the lounge to set up the place to start training. They swiftly moved the sofa to the side of the room and placed the gyro chair against the wall next to the TV, after everything had been cleared to give them room Spike faced the young slayer in the centre of the lounge.
"Well, lets get started shall we?" Spike clasped his hands together and fell into a semi-relaxed fighting stance, Knives eyed him curiously as she didn't expect to spare with the master vampire.
"Come on," Spike taunted, "lay it on me." He gestured a 'come-and-get-it' motion with his hands till Knives launched herself at him. Spike side-stepped out of the way, grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, slamming her up against the wall using her momentum against her.
Knives struggled against him, trying to twist her arm free only to have him tighten his grip and pull on it. After minutes of struggling, she gave up and waited till he loosened his hold on her and tried to push him off again, but he pushed hard into her and used the wall to keep her still. He leaned into the crook of her neck and set the hairs there in motion as he breathed in her ear.
"See how it easy it is for a vamp to get hold of you like this?" he didn't wait for an answer and continued his lecture. "You're lucky that you've only faced off with stupid, day old fledglings. If it was something like me you'd be dead before me and the other slayers found you here.
"This is why I'm offering to help you, you need proper training, Bit." He then released her and backed away from the now advancing girl. She tried to rush him but he he took hold of her upper arms and kept them to her sides to keep her from lashing out.
"That's why we're gonna start with the basics," Spike let go of her when he took one look at her bewildered expression and gestured at the carpeted floor for her to sit down. She did as he instructed and sat cross-legged in front of him and watched as he knelt before her. Spike took her hands in his as he began the lesson.
"Lesson the first: instinct. You need to learn to trust yours," he watched her frown at him, "what did your instincts tell you, luv."
Knives didn't really want to tell him what they told her, too embarrassed by what he'd say. "Um, block your attack, gain the advantage..." she trailed off as he grinned widely at her babbling.
"No they didn't, did they?" he snorted slightly.
She sighed and figured he knew what her instincts told her, giving up as he reacted just as she expected. "They told me to run." Knives bowed her head in exasperation, not wanting to see the look on his face. However, Spike - persistent as ever - took hold of her chin and gently tilted her head back up to look him in the eye, suddenly serious.
"Then why didn't you?"
"I'm the Slayer, supposed to fight not run away, duh."
"If your instincts are telling you to run, then run. No shame in trusting your gut, pet."
"But-" |
b6a7aff3cbed4f42a6e5be75a969579b | ['3ee0028491424b4ab4742e8cb13dd790'] |
Ignorance Is Your New Best Friend
**Author's Note:**
> Please feel free to comment :)
_‘This is the best thing that could have happened, any longer and I wouldn't have made it.’ ~ Ignorance by Paramore_
"A taxi picked her up near the crime scene at the time of the murder. The blood on her clothes matches the victim's and her fingerprints are on the murder weapon. Other than being your sister, is there any evidentiary reason why she shouldn't be charged."
The director, as she continued speaking, was looking at McGee with growing frustration, why couldn't he see the damage he had done
McGee just glanced up at the Director as she said this, he couldn't believe what she was saying, but he didn't let his emotions show. Needless to say, he was unimpressed.
"But she is my sister, Director. Sarah may have a temper, but she lashes out with her mouth or a pen, not a knife."
He kept eye contact with his superior the whole time he spoke. He wasn't the nervous, green agent he used to be when he first joined Gibbs' team, he was better now. He had matured and learned from his experiences. He wasn't going to be a pushover any longer.
"And I hope you have more to offer than brotherly love, Agent McGee."
"She was drugged. She showed up at my door groggy, barely able to walk. She couldn't remember anything except leaving the food court."
He shot back almost instantly, he was starting to get desperate. Why should he have to explain himself to the Director? Director Shepard flicked through her notes in disbelief as he said this.
"The lab reports for drugs and alcohol were negative."
She almost smirked as she stated this, she had finally got him right where she needed him.
Tim took a quick breath, "Well, by the time those tests were taken, whatever was in her system had metabolized. "
"And if that's true, whose fault is that?"
"Mine. I should have taken Sarah in."
"But you didn't bring her in!" The Director rudely interrupted McGee, "Agent DiNozzo and Officer David did, so your actions - or should I say inactions - did nothing to help your sister. But it did impugn the integrity of this agency!"
She'd had enough now, this needed to come to a close.
That was it. McGee stood up, raising his voice "Forgive me, Director, for not putting the integrity of NCIS before my sister!" He threw his badge and gun down on the table. "It won't happen again."
Shaking his head slightly as he said this, he got up and left without another word.
The Director sat there, blinking in disbelief. That was the reaction she wanted and yet she was thoroughly surprised he'd actually done it. Gibbs, who had said nothing throughout the whole conversation, simply reached over, grabbed the gun and badge that lay on the table and left after McGee. He was certain that he could convince Tim to rethink his actions.
By the time Gibbs had reached the top of the stairs, Tim was already in the bullpen.
“McGee! Hey!”
He had to shout out twice to the younger agent as he ran down the stairs after him to get his attention.
“Boss, don't try and talk me out of this.”
McGee had adopted the tone of someone much older than him, he was tired of this. Tired of being underestimated in this job.
Gibbs head slapped him, “Never let someone manipulate you like that again. Not even the Director!”
“I’m serious about this, I’m done. This whole thing, whatever it is, helped me to realise I don’t want to be here. I am not wanted here, I am not needed here”. By now, the whole bullpen had gone quiet, listening to the argument between team leader and his ex agent.
“You can’t say that. You can’t let the Director bring you down like this.”
“See, there we go again. Perfect example. You underestimate me. You have never thought I was capable to do this job or to make any big decision about my life. Just like the rest of the team, you still view me as that small shy geek who has two degrees and no proper field experience. You have never valued me, mainly because I didn’t have a military background, or been in the police force, and I certainly was no ex assassin.”
Gibbs just looked at him, stunned. DiNozzo and Ziva had entered the bullpen, they too were shocked at his reaction.
“You know that’s not true!” Gibbs was starting to realise all the things he had done wrong.
“Oh do I? Where were you when I shot that cop huh? The one time I needed someone to be there for me, no one was. I had to deal with that all on my own. And don’t get me started on how you treat me. I haven’t been a probationary agent for ages but yet you still let Tony and even Ziva walk all over me. You have no idea what this job has done to me!”
Tim was starting to get upset and his confident facade was slipping.
Gibbs started to say something but was cut off by Tim who was on a roll by this point.
“I am not a pushover and certainly not someone who you can just lump all the blame on which is completely unjustified. You and I both know that it wasn’t my fault Mawher tried to get at Abby when she was at my apartment. That isn’t even the half of it. Like I said, I’m done.”
He headed straight for the elevator ignoring the fact his desk and computer needed sorting, he could sort that later. Gibbs tried to grab his arm, but Tim pulled away harshly. The elevator dinged and he stepped in, but not before adding. “You know, you’re just like my father.” You could feel the venom dripping from that statement as the doors closed and the bullpen left in complete silence. | 43defa40498e4a1d9b084002d58e6fa1 | ['3ee0028491424b4ab4742e8cb13dd790'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> Hi, I just want to say I do not own any of the characters or Midsomer Murders itself, all rights go to Caroline Graham and ITV. This is just a bit of fun :)
>
> (I did make up Nelson's cousin, I don't think he has one)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please feel free to comment :)
They headed through the woods to the house, in separate cars, desperate to get this case over with. It had been a rather unusual yet tedious one, with many lies and affairs. But then again, that's about average for Midsomer.
Both detectives jumped out of their cars, with DCI Barnaby telling DS Nelson to go round back as he heads into the front of the abandoned house, treading carefully.
Nelson was having trouble finding his way in, the old boarded up house was proving difficult to break open.
As Barnaby heads in, he starts to hear Tom Asher speaking and automatically guesses Claire is there too. The fact he found that the shotgun was missing from the bar when he went to find the couple was worrying him.
"I couldn't take that anymore, I had to save you from him, preserve your honour"
"What about the others? Did you kill them to preserve Claire's honour? Or to save your own skin" Barnaby walked in saying, alerting them both of his presence, causing Tom to immediately point the gun at him, which didn't seem to phase the DCI at all.
Nelson was watching through the cracks in the wooden boards, only faintly hearing what was going on. He shook the boards in a feeble attempt to open the window, then ventured off to find something to help him.
Barnaby spotted the laptop and microphone sitting on the old table and preceded to press play on the recording. "Let's hear what this is all about"
Barnaby, Claire and Tom all looked to the laptop as the track started to play, but Claire looked at Tom as his and Johnny Carver's voices interrupted the track, followed by a gun shot.
"Oh my God" Claire was in complete shock, how could her husband ever do such a thing? "You, you shot him."
Nelson, still outside and eavesdropping on the interaction, finds a crowbar and starts to work on removing the boards. He could still only hear faint parts of the conversation and wasn't really paying attention as he started to attempt to open the window.
"So you killed him and Brian too" Barnaby stated. His theories were being confirmed.
The Sergeant was still having trouble as the conversation became more tense and heated. He just couldn't seem to get it open.
"Tom what have you done?"
"I told you I'm taking care of you"
"Which brings us to Frank" Barnaby began to explain his theory, hoping for Tom to continue and confirm it. He was trying to stay calm but he knew how unstable Tom was and that the gun could go off at any minute.
Nelson gives up, and watches through the gap, praying his boss wouldn't get hurt. Sure they got off on the wrong foot at first, but he had taught him all he knew about being a DS and for that Charlie would be forever grateful.
"I couldn't let him do that" Tom tried to explain desperately.
"I asked him to buy the hotel"
"No, he forced you into that Claire!" He was getting angry now.
"No, I wanted to leave you!" She finally snapped. All this lying and deceit was getting tiring. She just wanted it to end.
"You can't leave me Claire," He cocks the gun and points it at her "after everything I've done for us"
Barnaby begs don't do it in a last minute ditch attempt to stop anyone else from getting killed.
Tom points the gun at Barnaby once again. "I have to, can't you see that? Being Claire's husband made it all worth while. If I'm not her husband anymore then -" he points the gun at Claire, cutting off his own sentence.
The crowbar finally breaks the window, Tom freaks out and shoots in the direction of the sound.
Time seemed to move in slow motion as a loud grunt was heard and Barnaby went to immediately disarm Tom. Pointing the gun at Tom to ensure he doesn't try anything else, he finally looks over to the now shattered window hoping to see his Sergeant standing there, but to no avail.
Faint sirens could be heard and flashing lights could be seen as back up was arriving.
"Nelson? Nelson?" Barnaby shouted out to try and grab his Sergeants attention, but no movement was made. Officers raided the house, arrested Tom and took him away. Barnaby ran straight to the window and looked out. What he saw made his heart stop.
After getting over the initial shock, he shouted the words no copper wants to hear, "Officer down".
2. Chapter 2
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Please feel free to comment :)
**DS Nelson's P.O.V**
His ears were ringing. There was a loud bang then a tearing pain in his left shoulder. But now he's on the ground.
Nelson heard faint shouting and scuffling as he fell. Now his inspector is leaning out of a window, shouting for help. Well that's what he assumes is happening, he can't make out what is being said. He doesn't understand, what's happened? He feels perfectly fine now, just a little tired.
Suddenly Barnaby is at his side, putting pressure on his shoulder, looking panicked. He tried to say something, but he didn't recognise his own voice, everything sounded like it was underwater. Black spots danced at the edge of his vision and he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.
**DCI Barnaby's P.O.V** |
332200f7c30b46cca26026cf5217403d | ['3f05f79687a64e6aa6c2c5510bb7b386'] | You never thought it could be possible but the truth hit you right in the face. YOUR LIFE IS NOW ENTIRELY DEPENDING ON HIM. He is like a drug and you are totally addicted. You know it is bad and only ruin you more and more, yet, you never once able to fully hold in and instead give up on half ways. There is just too much pleasure for you to fight back. To see him begging you to stop is way too good to pass on since that is what you get off of. To feel like you are more superior than a demon is quite satisfying. You don’t think you will stumble on another demon like him, not like you want to anyway.
You two are nothing like enemies or rivals, but something more complex, unexplainable and sinful. You can’t help but to keep it that way. What else can you do? You can be silent forever. You want to say something that isn’t just teasing and mocking, but something that make sense or else it would mean you are hooked to him and you can't resist. He will know you are sinking yourself in his spell slowly by the day, that you blindly stepped into his trap. Sooner or later he’ll find out you are on your knees for him.
THE FUCK? Is this why people warned you to not overdose on the demonic venom? Yet no one really said how much of it would be considered overdosed. You thought only stupid no-brain fuckass would try such thing but guess your mind has lost its sanity to that level.
***
You are John Egbert and never have you felt so insecure. Though there is a mix of confused, fear, anger, used, weak… most of it is insecurity. You can’t escape Dave. He is always there, in the house. Though you don’t know why he chose to stay instead of escape when he clearly has a chance, you think it has something to do with you. Dave has been acting weird since that day. Despite the fact he teasing you and calling you a slut, a bitch… he, himself is all over you. You would love him to stay like that if you were not in your current state, which is pretty much a human, a fucking low-level weakling.
Every day, once or twice, he would come up to you with hateful eyes that also full of lust. Though you are used to the roughness and pain he forces on you, your body is always left with too much pain for you to even try to sit up. The sheet still stinks of beer from that time but your nose is used to it by now. You don’t remember how fresh air smell like anymore. You are starting to believe that he is going to ruin your sorry ass for real.
It is like you are the human and he is the demon. Maybe he is trying to put you in his shoes but isn’t this a bit much? There hardly any way you can get out of this because he has you lock in this room, always makes sure you barely have any energy and not able to drink a drop of blood during all those days also makes it worse, which means you are keeps at the verge of exhaustion, easy for him to manipulate, to have his ways with you, to do whatever he wants to your body and sex seems to be his option, or more like a constant need for him consider how many times you two have done it. Though you have lost count of it, you know if he were a demon he can be a better, stronger and hornier one.
Since it has become routine, you pick up a habit of his during sex. It is that it never a 100% pain. He doesn’t kiss you much, but bite a lot. It is expected since he said he fucking hated you, yet, when he does kiss you, it is long and deep. He doesn’t stop until you actually push him off to gasp for air. Sometimes he touches you and it fell good too and the rarely happened embrace you get is surprisingly heart-warming. You don’t say anything about it because you enjoy it as well, but still, it is oddly weird. His expression also the same of a rock, though growl often. You can’t swallow the fact he isn’t being honest with you, well, not like he ever be, still, he should say something.
It is a bit surprising with the fact that he obviously knows kissing you will result in his sex drive going through the roof, but then again your venom has run dry long ago. Your current teeth are human like so they are unable to do produce any of that. So is there another reason he is still doing this? Still fucking you.
*Click* the brightness of the hallways makes you blink. You don’t need to wait for your eyes to adjust to know Dave is coming into the room.
You flinch when he loom over you. No, you don’t want it. You are still barely recovering from the last one.
His hand holds you by the jaw, forcing your mouth to open and within a second you can feel his tongue inside it. You can push him back, but you don’t. If the kiss is broken then he will start to get rough.
His hand creeps down your hip and your legs twitch at the touch. You try your hardest to relax but your body does seem to comply with your mind. You can’t fool yourself. This isn’t the first time, so your body perfectly knows what it will undergo and isn’t happy at all. | fdf9af2d03444f94b65b1f295476343b | ['3f05f79687a64e6aa6c2c5510bb7b386'] | “Come on! Look at me, do I look like the demons you jackasses kill daily. I’m like a fucking kid, small and scrawny, ear barely pointy and my eyes don’t even fucking glow that bright either. I hate human and their blood, I only drink so that others would stop bullying me” he steps forward, hands pointing out what he is trying to say. He is like an angry raccoon. But you can’t ignore the fact that he is right in some way now that you compare him with other demons you have met. Demons usually looks sexy and Jake is kind of is for a man, too good looking for a man who have only recently got free from the role of a witch’s slave. He has the strength of ten men proven when you once saw him moved a fucking huge bolder and also, he has most of the humanly skills you can think of or maybe all of it since he has to hide his perfection so that it would not be too suspicious. No, no, no he can’t be. When talking Jake inhumanity, you can’t exclude the fact that his kindness is all so have no boundary. He always cares and cheers you up no matter how much you fucked up. He is too lovely to be a vicious demon but at the same time, too good to be human.
“You know” he tiredly sighs and points at the shed “There is a safe spell on the inside of this shit hole” that spell is used to keep out demons and monsters.
“Then how the fuck did you get through?” you ask, thinking that is ridiculous but you can’t hide the feeling that the more you two talk, the more he is right.
“The radius could be small, or that I am too fucking weak and was able to slick under the radar” he steps inside and pill to piece of paper right in front of your eyes then hold it out to you.
Your stomach turns when you recognize the handwriting on it is yours. Your knees feel weak and shaky. Why does bad thing always happen to you?
“You need me to drag your ass to him. Since I’m right, I’m glad to. No need to thank me this time” his voice turns obnoxious like all demons do. For a weak demon, you think he is the evilest.
“OH, and do me a favor, ok? Kill him” he pads your back like he is your fucking friend.
***
After a few minutes of struggling with your own mind and logic, you decided to follow him. What’s worse than having to listen to a demon is that it is right and you are wrong.
As soon as you see Jake, you realize he is where the demon told you he would be. The house he is trying to spy on look normal, if there wasn’t a fucking witch guarding the front door! And to make matter worse, she is the fucking bitch that tried to kill you, who Jake confirmed to be dead when you accidentally made her disappear. What is he doing there? How much have he lied to you? No, let not jump to conclusion. You want to hear what Jake has to say about this.
“Jake” you keep your voice low, not wanting the witch to hear
The moment he sees you he jerks back, nearly trip on his own feet, though hiss back is against the wall. You flashstep at him and for a second he is frozen.
“Jake what are you fucking doing here?” you ask, shaking him lightly
“What about you?” he asks back with worried eyes “You should be safe back in the van. It is dangerous!”
“Then why did you go off by yourself? You left me alone and I was fucking kidnapped!”
“Shhh, keep your voice down, they might hear you” he points at the window just above your head and you can see light inside.
Fuck. You almost forgot about that. Wait, if that demon were telling the truth, Dave could be in there! You can’t help but to give it a peak and as you look, you only see a young woman. She looks familiar but you don’t know why. No, you remember! She is the girl in the crystal ball! You saw her in the kitchen with Dave. So is she his savior? But then again, she has a fucking witch that successfully took Dave away from you so maybe she is not.
Just to be safe, you need to hatch a plan.
“Dirk, you need to go” he pushes you away.
“Stop messing around and get to work” the sudden voice startle both of you. Your whole body tense up like a deer caught in head light. There is a sound of open door “Jade, help me get these trash bags out”
You quickly move to the corner and glance over the front door. The she is, talking casually to the witch, even telling to take out the trash. Shit, so they are on the same side. Great, just jesus fucking great. So now you surely have to deal with her as well.
Jake nudges lightly at your back “Please, I don’t want you in danger. You will be doomed if you fight them both”
“OH, HI KARKAT” says the witch. She seems excitedly waving at… that runt demon. Holy shit, you were fooled. Is this his ‘reason’ all along: Dragging you here, barely armed and vulnerable? You have to run, fast, before they find out! You grab Jake and flashstep away, though not before you give the window one last look and there Dave is, standing behind the glass, looking at you with uninterested eyes like you are a stranger to him.
You hope it is because he doesn’t want to let them know you are there and not that he has betrayed you.
23. Striders in danger |
ab780daecc8a46649ccfb598c7b5303b | ['3f0fdde234fd4e6f9098595b14190b46'] | “I didn’t think it was whisky, it was in an iceless glass and looked like apple juice. Not my fault Dick didn’t warn me.”
“That was because,” The red head set down his arm full of kindling next to the larger wood chunks in a pile between the two sitting logs, “I was too busy laughing at your mistake.”
“Well excuse me, but I think the Hawaiians in that establishment could have put a note on the damn pitcher.” Nixon waved his hand in the air, scrunching his nose up at the memory.
“They did, you were just too hungover to read it.” Winters shamelessly smiled, amusement written into his whole expression.
Skips confusion could be seen from the dock if you looked for it. Speirs surprisingly picked up the social queue and offered the explanation. “It was on their honeymoon just after high school.”
“Unfortunately for him,” Nixon pointed to Speirs, “he heard the whole week of what happened through gossip of my drunk mouth.”
Speirs cringed minutely, nose crinkling at the conversation he had with a shitfaced Nixon on the third night they were away. “I never wanted to know what you and Richard were doing. Nor do I need a recollection of it. Ever.” Speirs pointed his swiss army knife towards Nixon, stare threatening the man.
“Whatever Sparky.” Nixon chuckled at the little growl. “I need to find Webster, he said he’d help me with my Report for the factory.”
“He’s still in his tent.” Skip motioned to the vinyl and gore tex. “Be aware though, I haven’t seen little Liebling come out of it yet, so if you get a faceful of angry jew then not my fault, I warned you.”
A muffled low voice came from the aforementioned tent “I can hear you and I will shove a hot poker stick through your tongue, Skip.”
“Speak of the devil.” Nixon chuckled, standing up and stretching, letting out a couple of soft groans with each pop of his bones. His shirt lifted to reveal a thick dark trail of hair leading below his tan leather belt.
“Keep that covered Nix. No one wants to see your trail but me.” Winters smiled over at his husband, carefully walking around the fire pit and rocks to stand by him.
Nixon opened his sleepy eyes, a soft mmm? asking his question for him.
“Your happy trail, babe.” Winters tugged down Nixon’s soft green shirt.
“Let them look.” One of Nixon’s outstretched arms hooked itself around Winters’ shoulders, bringing the taller of the two closer. Red climbed its way up Winters’ collar and cheeks, drowning his face in a flush
“C’mon you two, it’s like watching my parents flirt. Jeeze.” Skip whined.
Nixon’s eyebrows dove into his dark ivy like hair accompanied by a devilish smirk. “Just for that.” With quick work, Nixon had Winters leaning back like in the movies, a swift dip and then the big couple-y kiss.
After righting themselves Winters had a dopey eyed grin on his scarlet face, a hand fisted in Nixon’s cotton shirt.
“Gross.” Skip muttered.
Nixon stuck out his tongue and gently pried Winters’ fingers off of him. “Now I need to find Webster.” Nixon was a step away from leaving the embrace of his fiery redheaded partner before the same hand he had pried off had snagged his shirt again.
“Oh hey Nix, uhm, I got a call from Harry earlier, they won’t be here on account of Kitty going into labor. Spread the news around.” Winters sobered.
“No kidding.”Speirs inquired, flicking hair from his eyes.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Nixon’s face lifted with delight over the news. “Tell him to keep us updated.”
Winters nodded, face returning to normal colour. “Yeah, also Perconte’s ETA is in an hour so be prepared for Luz’s sugar rush over his chew toy joining us.”
Luz yelled from inside Lip’s and Speirs’ mesh zipped tent, legs crossed and leaning on a large feathered pillow. “Hey! I ain’t def Dick. He’s not a chew toy, he’s a pillow.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Skip mumbled, waving a hand dismissively.
Nixon squirmed in Winters’ grip, practically vibrating when asking into thin air. “Lieb, s’it okay if I come get Web?”
“Nah sorry Nix.” Liebgott whisper shouted. “Web needs his sleep, he called his parents last night to tell them the news. I-it was-, well it didn’t go as well as expected.” Nixon heard a low murmuring from the tent, sleeping bags and blankets sliding against each other.
A croaky voice arose from muffled sounds. “I’ll tell you all later.” It was a drowsy and sleep laced but broken all at once.
“Alright David.” Nixon assured, his voice low for the headache the kid probably has. “Go back to sleep you little duckling.”
It was a couple minutes of crackling fire and Speirs’ whittling before Liebgott’s voice came again. “Thanks Nix, I-I think he needed that.”
“It’s the way I roll Joseph, if one of my friends needs help, then i’ll do whatever I can to do so.” Nixon hummed.
“You’ll be great if you and Winters get kids.” Liebgott replied.
“I think you’re right Joseph.” Nixon smiled to himself and looked at his retreating husbands form, going back to the stock pile of wood near the willow. “Quite right.”
6. Chapter 6
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Life lessons with Babe, Bill and Joe.
“The more I think about it, Harry was the only one out of our _entire_ group, to go hetrosexual.” Babe frowned at the sand by his flip flops, bright pink sunglasses sliding down his nose.
Guarnere slid his squinted glance over towards his friend, pausing with his Jones bottle halfway to his lips, squinting over the glare from the lake at Babe. “And?” | e10f5074d52b439d907875be9f0179c9 | ['3f0fdde234fd4e6f9098595b14190b46'] |
The Husband House
**Author's Note:**
* For LINK.
> This is based off an AU that me and Kenzie over at Kenezbian02 have been working on since we've known each other. We don't know if we'll ever post the full manuscript of what we've written but I wanted to give a little insight.
Sean’s mind had a tendency to wander off late at night. He was in his own room in their house, had his own queen bed, his own desk and streaming computer were against the wall. His curtains were a deep shade of green and the moonlight would hardly get through. But for some reason his mind would wander to Lawrence in his room, sleeping apart from Adam, his husband, because that’s how it was before they were ever married or even considered themselves to be dating. Sean thought of James and Joel, the high school sweethearts, all bundled up in the master bedroom, sleeping soundly together after kissing each other goodnight like all good husbands do. He wondered about Matt and Bruce, the recently married men, and how the dewy and damp spring evening was treating them because Bruce ran hot and needed the window cracked at all times.
Sean wondered a lot of things as he laid there alone, a symbolic ring on his own finger, the movable gears getting hard to fiddle with and he might need a new one. He was their _ husband _ and he loved how they’d whisper that to him in the dead morning when he was with any of them. Or how they’d shout it into the air as they made love. And it was making love unless it was called for a good dicking. Sean was treated as their precious little house spouse. And Sean reveled in it, loved it, and never wanted to let go of his title no matter how the legal system fights how he’s only a side lover in technical terms. In their house, and their hearts he’s their husband as well. He’s the link to where the word husband is replacing all the other terms of life partnership.
Bruce had actually told off Lawrence for calling Bruce his boyfriend in front of their neighbour. The Hullums don’t care so long as the house of husbands doesn’t wake their kids then the titles of “My ---” mean nothing to them. In fact the majority if not all of their friends find it sweet or don’t care what they call and are to each other so long as it’s consensual and mutual. And Sean finds it dandy that he can hear so many permutations of _ my husband _ being used, whether they’re married or not.
When Sean streams and Matt is off work on the construction site he’ll tease Matt and kiss him on stream, occasionally covering the camera and giggling, “My husband needs to trim, he’s a little scratchy.” before uncovering the camera and carrying on. His favourite time is when Joel is done editing the latest script and will come into his bedroom, a smile on his face and red ink on his hands. He’d make sure the mic was muted as he whispered utter filth or sweet talk into Sean’s ear. The mic won’t pick it up but the camera gets Sean’s flushed face, scandalously parted lips, and his widening pupils because his husband is done his work for his editing firm and can now play. “I may cut this stream short tonight, you all saw what Joel did.” Sean squeaked when the mic was on. It takes him another half hour for his erection to go down and his thought process to tell him to shut the stream down for the night. Some nights he’s being called down for dinner by James, he gets home the earliest some nights, will put all the essays and worksheets on the desk in the office on the main floor and get to cooking a big meal rather than when he gets home later and he ends up cooking them all a lighter meal. But Sean loves being called from downstairs that “Supper is ready! Tell them you’re taking a break!” And Sean says he’s shutting off for an hour or two, he’ll be back later. And shut it all down before racing to the dinner table to be surrounded by his husbands, his family.
The house spouse that Sean is had opened up so many possibilities, including Bruce settling down from his punk days, his rougher days, and mellowing out in the way he fucks anyone. He mellowed out enough that he married Matt, gave his long time boyfriend and his beautiful husband what he wanted. Not just a trinket of their companionship in a bracelet made from a memory, but in a gold ring and a string of vows as they tied the knot officially. Joel had finally admitted his deeper feelings towards his friend/love interests. He was so tired of thinking he couldn’t love them, he loved James and James alone. They had a set-up where they could fool around and have sex, but Joel never thought he could love them all like they love each other. Joel never said _ I love you _ to them until he had broken down. And James didn’t either because Joel was not ready, James knew he loved them all and was capable of saying it and meaning it, Joel didn’t realize it and had called James while he was with the high school football team at a tournament out of town. The three little words flowed out of Joel and James after that, in large amounts but no one denied that each utterance wasn’t true, every single phrase said was believed though and through.
It took them years to find peace with themselves and each other. Took fights and breaks and breakdowns and lock-ins to figure it out in their heads and out loud to their company. Agreements were made and love making was often. Sean is cozy and happy with his husbands, the men who work at different times or who have to go out of town, the ones that wake up early to the ones with the late shift. Sean will be the stay at home husband who plays and feeds the cats, who is there to kiss them goodbye and hello in the same day (If that’s the case). And he loves to be the one to hear the cacophony of sounds of love or the symphony of soft snores and sighs. He’ll stay up well into the night to reminisce and remind himself that he’s in love for all the right reasons and he has no where better to be than under the same roof as his loves. Sean is the house husband but he’s their house husband. |
1fe44a4c657447e5a0c5aeba07c0867e | ['3f167505e071481fb0056d4e692412d2'] |
Bottom
**Author's Note:**
> This is very long. Just warning you. I am also not too experienced with writing smut, I do it because I think it is fun. If you have any constructive criticism, don't be afraid to leave a comment!
>
> Enjoy!
Connor's eyes flew open when he heard the sound of the front door slam shut. He jumped out of bed, suddenly feeling as if he hadn't just been deeply asleep, wide awake and alert as he made his way out of his room. With his pulse sky high, he walked through the hallway that lead to the living area. His footsteps were slow compared to his mind, which had managed to come up with several possible causes for the loud noise he had heard only a minute ago; a burglar, a murderer, a stranger who was lost, Troye..
Troye.
_Right._
Itcame back to him that Troye had told him he would come home late, since he was going out to celebrate one of his managers friends, and that he shouldn't stay up waiting for him. Troye had told him he could come with, but it had been apparent only from hearing his voice that he was already intoxicated, and Connor hadn't felt like dealing with drunk people then, he still didn't.
Connor's heartbeat had slowed down once he finally stepped into the living room, and he spotted Troye immediately. On the couch, with his face buried between two cushions and his arm hanging out from the side of the couch, Troye was completely passed out.
Connor walked up to him and shook his shoulder carefully, at which Troye groaned and pressed his hands against the back of his head, his voice muffled against the cushions. When he tried waking him a second time, Troye carelessly rolled over to his back and stared up at Connor through squinting eyes, furrowing his eyebrows and scrunching his nose.
"Hello," he said groggily, screwing one eye shut.
Connor sighed and knelt down next to the couch. "Hi," he murmured, pressing the palm of his hand against Troye's forehead and cheeks. Troye reached out to grab Connor's bicep at that, who hadn't remembered he was in a tank top until now. Ignoring Troye, he looked back at the door, guessing Troye hadn't remembered to lock it in his drunken state. He held up a finger at Troye, giving him a serious look. "Lay still, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Troye slurred, his eyes following Connor as he locked the door.
When he turned around, Troye grinned at him, reaching one arm out and motioning for him to come back to the couch. Connor couldn't help but smile at that. Troye was a cute, but really annoying drunk. Kinda clingy, too.
"Can you stand up?" Connor asked.
Troye nodded and sat up, shakily grabbing the couch to push himself up. It wasn't until his jacket was pushed to the side that Connor noticed the vomit that covered most of his grey T shirt. Laughter escaped his mouth at the sight of his mess of a boyfriend, who he now had to get in the shower and _then_ into bed.
Connor put a hand on Troye's back and lead him toward the bathroom. "Please tell me you didn't throw up in the uber," Connor said, half laughing.
Troye shook his head and hiccuped. "No."
Connor shook his head at his boyfriend, and entered the bathroom.
While in the bathroom, Troye made a half hearted attempt at removing his clothes, but said he couldn't and locked his hands behind his back and told Connor to do it instead. When Connor pulled Troye's shirt over his head, Troye tried to kiss him, but Connor leaned away every time, not wanting to come in contact with his alcoholic breath. When he started unzipping Troye's jeans and tugged them downwards he decided to save some time and made his underwear follow, ignoring his semi hard length that was revealed by doing so.
"Don't fall," Connor told Troye as he watched him step into the bathtub, and Troye took two unnecessarily big steps to make sure he did as Connor said.
Connor, after taking his socks off and rolling up his jeans, followed and made Troye stand under the shower head, which he turned on, and began rinsing him off. He rank of alcohol and a bit of sweat, so he made sure to shampoo his hair as well as make sure his body was cleaned.
It didn't take long until Troye got bored. He took a step forward and slid his hands in underneath Connor's shirt, which made Connor laugh and push his hands away. Troye only took that as an invitation to let his hands go further south, and before Connor could react, Troye was stroking him underneath his jeans and boxers.
"Troye, stop," Connor said, feeling himself react to the touch a bit too strongly, willing himself to relax and not buck his hips into Troye's hand. Soon enough Connor got a hold of himself and grabbed Troye's wrist, making him retract his hand. "Let me rinse you off, okay? I'm almost done."
"Okay," Troye chuckled. He brought his hands to playing with Connor's hair, but Connor decided to ignore it to get the shower over with.
He brushed Troye's teeth (mostly for his own sake, he didn't want to fall asleep next to Troye when he smelled like a mini-bar) and lead him into the bedroom, making him sit down, still completely naked. Connor tried to keep the inappropriate thoughts out of his head, but the sight of Troye's hard dick, his messy hair and just him in general made that difficult. | 4af4050fbaec4e03b6eca0130176c6c2 | ['3f167505e071481fb0056d4e692412d2'] | Troye pulled Connor close by his arm, making Connor sit down on his lap, facing him. He kissed Connor's chest and neck, letting his hands run up and down Connor's body until they landed on his ass, groping it. Connor attempted to stand up, but Troye's grip on him was too strong for him to do so, and Connor couldn't really complain. He was pretty turned on by now.
"Let's have sex before bed," Troye suggested, speaking quietly between the kisses. His hand traveled to Connor's front, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, fiddling on his underwear.
"No," Connor said, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw when Troye grasped his bulge. Troye was completely naked beneath him, and it took most of Connor's willpower not to do anything stupid.
"Come on," Troye pressed, rubbing his palm against Connor's bulge.
"Not when you are drunk," Connor managed to spit out, instead of moaning like he had almost done.
"Please," Troye whispered into Connor's ear, making him shiver. "I know you want to," he said. His next words were low and firm. "You can fuck me."
Connor's eyes widened. "What?"
"I always fuck you," Troye explained. "I want you to fuck me."
Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing. Troye had never really showed interest in doing things differently. Were drunk words actually sober thoughts, after all?
"Do you want that?" Connor asked.
Troye kissed Connor's neck. "Mhm."
"Oh wow," Connor laughed nervously. "Let's talk about that when you're not drunk off your ass, okay? Now; go to bed."
"Connor," Troye whined, but released his tight grip on Connor, allowing him to get off of him.
Connor didn't answer, but instead tucked Troye in bed and lay down next to him. It didn't take more than ten minutes, and then Troye was asleep.
**
Connor managed to keep last night's conversation out of his mind for most part the next day. Troye had woken up extremely hungover, which resulted in a day in where they watched documentaries and relaxed mostly, with short make out sessions and a trip to the supermarket to buy dinner for the night. Outside was gloomy and dark, so they didn't mind spending the day inside.
Once Troye announced that his headache was gone and that he had more energy it had already gone dark outside, and neither of them felt like moving outside the apartment. So after dinner they took place on the couch again, and it wasn't until now that Troye's words started hitting replay in Connor's mind.
" _I wan't you to fuck me_ ," Troye had said, and he had sounded dead serious.
Fucking Troye was something Connor had thought about when Troye was in Australia and he was in LA, alone in his bed, his hands and imagination being the only things to satisfy him. That it would become a reality? that wasn't something Connor had expected to ever happen. Troye had always said he was strictly a top, which thankfully worked because Connor enjoyed being a bottom so much, but now that the subject had been brought up he couldn't help but hope it would happen.
They were spooning on the couch, with Troye being the little spoon. Connor's arm was draped over Troye's waist and brushed his fingers against his stomach. It was a cozy evening, cuddling on the couch, but eventually he became all too aware of how his hips were pressed against Troye's ass, and his thoughts immediately went in inappropriate directions.
After a bit of Troye slowly pushing himself back into Connor's hips, Connor had enough and made Troye turn around. When Troye looked up at Connor he was smiling and Connor quickly realized he knew exactly what he was doing, and that he had probably felt Connor's bulge through his jeans the whole time.
"What do you think of the movie?" Troye asked, smiling knowingly, probably aware of how Connor probably hadn't watched more than ten minutes of the it.
"You are such a pain-" Connor stopped himself before he finished his sentence and closed his eyes, laughing and burying his head in Troye's neck.
"In your ass," Connor felt Troye nodding. "I know."
Connor playfully shoved Troye's shoulder, at which Troye laughed and planted a kiss on Connor's cheek. Connor opened his eyes and leaned back to get a look of Troye, who had started sitting up a bit to climb on top of Connor.
Connor, who had been horny since last night, couldn't compose himself for very long. He didn't force himself to, either, but instead pulled Troye down to his lips by his neck. Their lips were soft against each other, and Troye broke the kiss to breath on Connor's neck, placing the softest of kisses next to his ear.
"Do you wanna do this here?" Troye said, his voice almost a whisper, making Connor shiver. Troye's hands gripped Connor's shirt and pulled it over his head, and immediately went to unbuttoning his jeans and slipping a hand down his underwear.
Not a word would leave Connor's lips. Instead he whimpered and shook his head, subconsciously caring for his couch too much to fuck on it.
Troye began pulling Connor's jeans down, backing away as he pulled them over his ankles. He dropped them on the floor and walked up to the couch again, sitting down next to it. He kissed Connor's lips while grasping his bulge, and when Connor seemed to be as hard as he could possibly be, Troye broke the kiss and retracted his hand.
"Come with me," Troye said in a low voice, at which Connor looked up, managing to catch the cute but mischievous smile that had fallen on Troye's lips. Grabbing Troye's hand, he stood up from the couch and followed him in the direction of his bedroom. |
74266e7f880241e986aba4eeca6d9e56 | ['3f199272a9914fec90f64207c7c18b84'] |
Never Will Be
**Author's Note:**
> also on my writing blog @not-quite-shakespeare-yet on tumblr
“I can’t believe your biggest fear is working at an office.” She laughed, resting her head against the wall of Newt’s little hideout for his creatures.
“It’s just such a boring thing to do when you could be out looking out for all of these fantastic beasts.” He shrugged, bringing the baby phoenix up to his face and petting it slightly. “Just wait until this little one is all healed and grown up.”
“Are you going home for Christmas this year?” She smiled, watching the boy who was in awe of the tiny bird in his hands.
“No, I couldn’t leave this one all alone.” He set it back in its temporary home, finally looking at the girl who sat opposite him. “That and the parents have disappeared to go collect some new hippogriffs, Theseus is here too. He said something about wanting to talk to you earlier. I’m sure he’ll find you at some point, I wouldn’t go seeking him. That’s just me though, I know you get along with him-”
“Newton, you’re rambling again.”
“At least it’s not about animals this time.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “It was about your brother, that’s number two on your list of what you ramble about. Your brother is a brilliant boy, Newton. Top of his classes, heading to becoming an auror. Good looks yet not caring about relationships.”
“You’re just describing yourself now.” He mumbled under his breath.
The sounds of footsteps up the stairs caused her to stop talking and look towards the wooden entrance, oblivious to what the boy had just said. Newt was thankful for that, he didn’t mean to let that slip. He wasn’t one for relationships but he couldn’t deny that the girl sitting in front of him was fascinating, the only one who even came close was Leta Lestrange. (y/n) knew that and was fully aware of how they’d simply remain best friends as she wanted.
“I knew I’d find you up here.” Theseus stated. “Oh, (y/n) can I talk to you later?”
“What do you need Theseus?” Newt asked, clearly not in the mood for his brother today.
“First years have found their way into the kitchens and are toying with the house elves again.” Theseus didn’t need to finish his sentence before Newt was bolting down the stairs.
Newt smiled, that memory was something that stuck out to him and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t particularly good or bad. It was just a moment where all of them were together, even if it was only a few moments before he sprinted down the stairs. There were hundreds more moments like that, no matter how much he hated his brother sometimes they always had the best times in that three.
“Wow, Mrs Scamander, I now know where Newt gets it from.” (y/n) grinned, watching the lady feed the hippogriffs from her spot on the fence. “It’s quite amusing how he’s so good with them.”
“It’s a shame Theseus didn’t get the same love for magical creatures,” Newt added, petting his hippogriff as it leaned into his hand.
“I enjoy the study of spells rather than creatures, is that a problem?” Theseus raised an eyebrow, slightly tightening his grip on the fence next to (y/n).
“I just don’t see how you’d be willing to live your life out of the Ministry.”
“And I don’t see how you’d be willing to live your life getting attacked by beasts.” His knuckles were getting paler by the second, about to let go entirely and storm off.
“Theseus…” (y/n) touched his hand, keeping it still of the splintering wood. “Don’t have this argument again, Newt doesn’t mean any harm.”
“I’ve never seen a situation like this be diffused so quickly, please come back every holiday (y/n)” Mrs Scamander laughed, tossing one last apple to the hippogriffs and leaving the three to their own devices.
The second she was out of sight, the three of them left their positions, locking the enclosure and bounding down to the river next to the Scamander’s land. It was something they did. They raced to the river and the winner was owed a favour from the other to. Favours were beginning to become predictable. Newt was the most agile, normally winning the race and using his favours in pitiful attempts to get his brother to like creatures with (y/n)’s help in the set up of these schemes. On the other hand, Theseus normally used his favours to get Newt to do his chores and forgot to cash in his favours with (y/n).
Today was an odd day, (y/n) won. She had one only a few times before and her favours were completely unpredictable and came at random times. Once she waited until school started again and used Theseus to go and get her food at midnight. He then started sneaking the three of them food during his prefect shifts while simultaneously ensuring they didn’t get caught going to the room of requirement.
“Don’t worry boys, there are no favours today.” She smirked at their frightened faces. “Maybe midnight again… “
“If you make me do that again on a night where I am not on duty I will throw you into that river or the lake.” Theseus threatened, throwing newt a dirty look as he sniggered. “Just because your dormitories are right next to the kitchens.”
“I’d like to see you try.” (y/n) taunted, not prepared for the boy in question to pick her up over his shoulder and walk into the river.
He was lucky it was summer and his trousers were already rolled up due to the heat because otherwise, he’d be wearing soggy trousers. He proceeded to fake drop her, laughing at her squeal before she finally joined in laughing with the two boys. | 36199d0edcbe4b1b8963020397c68e92 | ['3f199272a9914fec90f64207c7c18b84'] | Grass
**Author's Note:**
> Originaly posted on my tumblr @who-is-the-king-of-new-york
“Will you marry me?” Romeo stuttered out, holding a simple blade of grass from the river bank next to him.
“I-” Elmer furiously rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the tears so he could see his now fiancé as he nodded. He couldn’t care less how red his eyes became as long as he spent the rest of his life with the boy that knelt in front of him.
The other boy’s fingers were soft when holding his hand, delicately tying the blade of grass into a ring. The years of hard work from being a newspaper boy to the owner of a high-end restaurant never showed on Romeo. His hands were still as soft as when he did his first paper round with Elmer. Sure, they both had their fair share of scars on their hands from falling off skateboards during the oh so tragic emo phase. The odd tan lines from the bracelets they still wear every day because they could never untie them just served as good memories from their teenage years. They both knew that they had grown so much in a short amount of time, both barely breaking out of their twenties and having earned thousands of pounds rapidly. Elmer becoming a viral youtuber turned movie director and Romeo now owning a chain of restaurants across the USA, they were both much more than those newspaper boys who earned no more than $15 per round of deliveries. It was still foreign to them to be able to spend money on luxury items such as expensive electronics and jewellery. They no longer had to save up their own money to buy a new shirt at the end of the week.
“I know it’s just a blade of grass. I thought with all this money we have now a sparkling engagement ring would mean nothing.” Romeo sighed. “I remember when we would be thankful to get a bag of candy with the change we got and now we can buy as much as we want. The first one we bought together we came here and sat making jewellery out of the grass. We pretended to be gangsters like Al Capone and their ridiculous amount of rings, thinking that neither of us would be able to afford it.” They both laughed at the memory, gripping onto each other’s hands as they sat on the riverbank. “I still have that first ring we made. It’s sitting in a velvet box in my bedroom drawer to keep it from breaking. I found it when I moved out. It was frail then. It’s changed since we first made it, so has our relationship. We’ve grown more mature. I’d like to go back to the day we met when our rounds crossed.”
“I’d like to tell us to stop the pining and get on with it already.” Elmer chuckled. “Don’t you think that I didn’t notice you staring at my ass that day."
"I was trying to be romantic. You had to ruin it didn’t you.” Romeo rolled his eyes, slightly pushing his fiancé.
“You’ve never been one to live up to your name."
"Yeah, yeah, Elmo."
"So when’s the wedding?”
“That was the most common question we had up until the diagnosis. We both commented it to each other throughout the hospital appointments, trying to cheer each other up. But it got harder. When he was in the hospital, we smiled, we made the most of our time together. I watched as he slowly turned into a ghost. He looked dead a week before he was. I couldn’t stand watching him die, but I still went daily. I had the hope that he would make a miraculous recovery and that I could be there as any form of support that I could. I watched him cry about what was happening to him, about how our wedding would never come. The one thing that never happened was that blade of grass leaving his finger. I treasured our time together. I treasured every kiss we shared. I treasured the last seventeen years of my life because he was there to support me.” Romeo took a deep breath, gently brushing away the tears from his face. He looked down at his hand that was holding the paper, the grey leaf that wrapped around his finger was the focus of his attention for a moment. He thought about that day again, the days they were both healthy. He looked back up at their friends and family, ignoring the heavy atmosphere and the ocean of black. He gripped the stand, knuckles turning white before he recomposed himself. “I just wish that he was still here, that this would be a wedding speech, not a eulogy. I hoped that I could have seen him walk down the aisle. Now, I have hope that I can get through this, that we can work through our loss. He said I had a way with words and now I’m hoping that he was right. He wouldn’t want us to focus on his last days, he would want us to focus on his first viral video or that time he had that bruise that made him look like a unicorn. We just need to remember him. Not the illness that took him down.” |
76afdac9039a474ebaeb32b65fb4ce56 | ['3f1f8d8c841a43d5b8fe7f1afe59ebf6'] | Those faded, too, but they were etched in Tam’s mind, clear as day. He took a breath.
That place, he knew. He had never been there, but there was only one place in the world like it.
“Oscus,” he said, quietly. The great southern desert, beyond the scar left over from the war against the dragons, home of the yuan-ti.
And the other…? The sea on Pabshaw’s coast was not like that, not like a vast lake surrounded by mountains. That was a fjord of some type, cut into the land.
Ah. “Osden.”
The Home Tree didn’t respond to him, but it didn’t ignore him.
“Which one, though? Where do we go?”
There was no answer. Apparently, it was up to him to decide.
He remained there for a short while longer, but eventually remembered that as a human he had to eat. He sighed, pulling himself up, and took his staff from the tree.
And stared at it. He hadn’t noticed before, but – the Home Tree had creatures all around it, including a species of beetle he’d seen nowhere else. Now, he could see the beetles swarming all over his staff, exploring its cracks and crevices, making themselves at home.
“Are you sure?” Tam asked, looking up to the Tree. He got no response.
That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. The Tree didn’t respond if it didn’t have to. If it wanted him not to take the beetles, it would have let him know, somehow.
He carefully gripped the staff in one hand, making sure not to harm any of the beetles. They skittered around and over his fingers, bright red shells winking in the occasional glimmer of light that made its way through the Home Tree’s canopy.
Osden, or Oscus. One of the two. Midsummer was far away – but that dragon had been unmistakably underneath a midsummer sky. So… not Oscus. It was the wrong time for that.
Osden, then.
Tam closed his eyes for a moment and tried to use his ravens to find the rest of the Guard. He checked the inn, but didn’t see them; to his surprise, he finally located them in the business areas of the city, outside a potion shop.
Odd. What were they still doing there?
He made his way to the store. By the time he got there, the light was beginning to fade, and when he stepped in, he paused, frowning.
Manny stood behind the counter. There were things knocked over on the selves, and things missing; the entire place was a mess. “What,” Tam said.
“This is my potion shop,” Manny said, brightly. “I work here. I own it.”
“What.”
“It’s true,” Val said, emerging from the aisleways. Half his attention was focused on a small corked jar he was holding in one hand; inside were a few dark red flowers, freshly picked. He looked up to Tam. “He, um… acquired it.”
“How. Why.”
“The original shopkeeper left, so it’s mine now,” Manny said.
“That – well, see, I would have said that’s not how it works, but unfortunately, that _is_ how it works according to the guard. So… I suppose we have a potion shop now.” Val glanced around. “Not bad, really, but I’m not managing it. Manny, you’ll have to do it on your own.”
“I’m sure learning how to business isn’t that hard.”
Val winced, and Tam remembered he’d been trained as a merchant growing up. “It’s – alright, well… no, I can’t devote time to this. I can’t.” Val crossed his arms. “I have to stand back and watch this burn.”
“I haven’t set it on fire yet!” Manny protested.
“I love that you, personally, added a ‘yet.’”
Manny shrugged.
“What happened,” Tam said, glancing between them.
“A lot,” Val said, with a sigh, entire form sagging. “Manny – uh, long story short, Manny imprisoned the shopkeep and took over his shop.”
“It was an accident! I couldn’t get him out!” Manny said, from the counter.
Val continued without acknowledging him. “After that, there was a minor earthquake, and Manny managed to accidentally drink a potion that turned him into a cloud and then we had to deal with _that_ , and he couldn’t speak, so he had to keep pointing at letters until I got the meaning of whatever he was trying to get across –“
“I’m getting large metal letters put up on the wall in the whole alphabet so that next time it’s easier to communicate,” Manny said, somberly.
“ – and once he finally got back to his snerson body, a guard stopped by and showed us where that shopkeep had been trapped, because _apparently_ it’s normal to have secret trapdoor cellars you can become easily locked in underneath your store.” Val glared at the floorboards. “He quit, so Manny said he owned the shop now, and, um… nobody argued.”
Tam didn’t know how to respond.
“Anyhow,” Val said, slipping the tiny jar back into his bag, “Alfo’s in the back. We’ve got some discussing to do, I believe.”
“I know where we’re going next,” Tam said.
“Fantastic! Back room.”
Manny dutifully went to the front of the shop and locked the door, turning around the little sign that hung in the window so the word “Closed” displayed to anybody who walked by. “What?” he said, when he turned and saw Val and Tam staring at him. “I have to let people know. Otherwise they could just walk in and steal stuff.”
“Like the entire shop,” Val said, and turned, heading for the back room.
Alfo and Magnolia were already there, waiting. Kiran was not present. The rest of the Guard filed in and shut the door behind them.
“So,” Val said, glancing to Tam, “you said you knew where we need to go next?”
“Osden,” Tam said. “I spoke to the Home Tree. It has shown us the way.”
“Perfect,” Alfo said, eyes lighting up. “I need to go that direction anyways.” | 94343380d7fe4d1a906fc5689ad0f384 | ['3f1f8d8c841a43d5b8fe7f1afe59ebf6'] | Micah stood, feeling his tamped-down fear melt into a slow, deep anger. “I will,” he promised, normally pleasant voice dropping into a low growl. “Believe me.”
Aesila nodded to him. He turned and strode out the door.
“If you find the assassin in the palace, save her for me to deal with,” he told one of his guards under his breath. “She… will be useful.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard replied, slightly nervous.
Micah swept away. He found the captain of the guard and organized a proper search, with all exits guarded and the palace grounds surrounded.
They didn’t find her. The search was mostly a setup to drive her where Micah knew he could catch her. Where Aesila had told him she would be- the stables.
The assassin was, apparently, not suspicious of the already-saddled horses and deserted stable. She opened a stall and commandeered a mount, turning it out of the stall and heading for the open door at the end of the stables-
Mjoll prowled into the opening, Micah seated on her back. “Really,” he sighed. “You can’t expect this to end well.”
The assassin pulled back on the horse, obviously startled. She said nothing.
“Surrender.”
The assassin was utterly still for a moment. Suddenly she spurred the horse forward, racing directly at Micah. He did not move.
The horse went sideways; the girl went up. She leaped from the saddle and over Micah’s head, close enough to touch him. Something whispered past his neck. A knife? Micah put a hand up, but there was no pain or blood. He wasn’t hurt.
The girl twisted as she flew, landing on her feet and stumbling. The horse circled back and she caught it and swung up, then turned to face Micah.
“We are _so_ far ahead of you,” she sneered, and held up something in one hand. Micah narrowed his eyes, peering at the object-
Micah’s medallion.
She’d managed to slice the leather cord that held the medallion around his neck and take it without him realizing. How…?
“Enjoy a mortal life.” She turned the horse. Micah spurred Mjoll forward a bit, but her steps were uneven and she had to twist first, throwing him slightly off-balance. Something whistled out of the darkness and… did not skid off his blessing.
What?!
It was a crossbow bolt, and it thunked solidly into the fleshy part of his left shoulder. He reeled backwards, but pushed Mjoll on.
Micah gasped in pain, but kept moving, transferring Mjoll’s reins to his left hand and drawing his sword with his right. “Catch her,” he whispered to Mjoll, through gritted teeth. She leaped to obey, lengthening her stride.
The assassin laughed out loud, holding the medallion up. Micah flicked the reins a bit. Mjoll’s silent paws caught up to the horse.
Its rider didn’t even notice until Micah lunged forwards and lashed out with his sword, catching the horse’s leg in the back, where the tendon was. The horse immediately staggered violently and half-fell.
By this time, they’d curved halfway around the palace, out of sight of most guards and nearly all the lights. Micah could feel blood flowing around the bolt in his shoulder and staining his clothes. He tried to ignore it.
The horse stumbled again. Micah recovered and made another stab at the horse, this time managing to slice open a shallow gouge in the beast’s side. It screamed and shied sideways. Mjoll, excited by the smell of blood, pushed herself to the limit and leaped forwards, raking her claws across the horse’s flank. It went down; so did its rider, Mjoll, and Micah.
Mjoll skidded on the stones, and Micah lost his grip on the saddle and fell. He tumbled across the ground, each movement sending a stab of agony through his shoulder. The horse screamed again before Mjoll mercifully ripped its throat out.
It took Micah a moment to rise from his place on the ground, but the assassin wasn’t going anywhere. The horse had fallen on her and she was trapped. Micah dragged himself up into a standing position and slowly made his way over to the girl.
She was perfectly still, obviously terrified of Mjoll’s massive jaws very close to her.
Micah took his sword and leaned heavily on it, then reached down and tried to take his medallion. The assassin held tight to it. and he stood, staring impassively down at her. She glared back. Defiant, even when trapped underneath a dead horse and a hungry lioness.
Totally calm, Micah took his sword and skewered her through the hand. She cried out and Micah picked up his medallion. There was some blood on it, but he rubbed it off on an unstained part of his outfit. “Thank you,” he said, inspecting it. The leather cord was indeed cut neatly. “I lost this. I appreciate having it back.”
The girl whimpered. Micah leaned on his sword again, almost conversationally, and drove it deeper into her hand. “Who sent you?”
She said nothing.
“Look,” Micah sighed. “You can tell me. Or you can refuse to tell me. I don’t need to explain which of the two pathways will be more painful for you. You seem smart enough to understand.”
“I can’t say,” the girl gasped. “Stay away from the Haunted Cities.”
Micah withdrew his sword and casually flicked the tip across her face, opening a thin gash across her cheek. “Who shot me?”
“A partner!”
“I would like a name.”
“No.”
Micah sighed again. “Before I was king I was a traitor. Do you think I have never tortured anyone?” He knelt, trying desperately to ignore the crossbow bolt, and used his fingers to tip the girl’s chin up slightly. “I have. And I was always told what I needed to know. Now. Who is your partner? Who is the dead man in my chambers? Why did you try to kill my wife?” |
203140f6f5cf4b2ea9f640475f972747 | ['3f45eca6d42240fe975a976f0b2b9a37'] | Eikichi dropped his voice. "Why is Akira's cat talking?"
"I don't know. High school is rough. We don't want to ask."
"That's fair."
Eikichi did a very good job pretending he couldn't hear Morgana giving Akira a play-by-play of yesterday's Featherman episode for the rest of his visit. He also did a very good job pretending the limited-edition album Akira had been raving about on his Twitter for a month had magically spawned on his bed when Akira tried to pay him back for it. Eikichi was talented like that.
Aunt Lisa picked Akira up and spun him around when she showed up, screaming something about how she'd heard he'd been living in an attic and off of curry and burger challenges the entire time he'd been gone, why didn't you call me, I could have at least helped you decorate your room!
Aunt Chika's unconcerned pleas for Lisa to not break her nephew's ribs went unheeded. Akira could, however, see the fear in her eyes every time she spun into his field of vision after the phrase "living off of curry and burger challenges" left Lisa's lips.
There was the usual fussing over how Akira had grown oh so much since Lisa had last seen him. Akira regaled her with the enthralling tale of the three words of Cantonese he'd picked up solely to piss off Uncle Baofu. Lisa was very impressed.
She and Chika couldn't stay for very long, since they'd only stopped by on the way to whatever crazy project Chika was working on another hour north. (Chika was in her "travel outfit," which was an excuse to deck herself out in pajama pants and artfully wind-blown bedhead.)
Morgana still managed to make an appearance. Akira was pretty sure Morgana was excited to meet the family Akira had constantly almost suffocated trying to text at 2 in the morning under his bed sheets, but he wasn't going to call him out. For now.
Of course, Akira had somehow forgotten that Morgana was a mistake of a human. Shadow. Cat. Whatever.
"Who is this dazzling creature?" Morgana gasped, staring at Lisa in unabashed awe.
Lisa looked at Morgana in much the same way you would hypothetically look at a cat who just hypothetically tried to hit on you.
Chika was undeterred. "Kitty!"
Akira fixed Morgana with the same look he stared down shadows with when deciding whether to mercifully rob them at gunpoint or rip them apart. Chika continued acting on basic human instinct and tried to beckon Morgana in a terrifically undignified manner.
Jun and Tatsuya eventually got back from shopping with a suspicious amount of flower bulbs that hadn't been on the shopping list. Morgana spent the duration of their chit-chat getting head scritches from Chika and staring straight at Lisa.
Lisa and Chika left when the sun started threatening to set, but not before Lisa looked dead into Morgana's eyes and hissed "I'm married."
Morgana spent the next few days sulking. Akira thought it was hilarious.
Uncle Kei managed a 5-minute Skype call, which amounted to Morgana sitting on the keyboard while Akira tried and failed to make his face visible around him. The majority of the call was Akira trying to bribe Morgana to move, but Morgana firmly declared he would not move for anything short of fatty tuna.
Kei didn't seem to mind, since he was simultaneously doing paperwork and firing a regional manager via text, but he did end the call by telling Akira to keep up with his homework so he could buy his cat fatty tuna.
Morgana crowed over the number one man in Japan agreeing with him. Akira called Jun and left a voicemail stating his future plans of roughing it on the streets with his good friend and trusted confidant, Morgana, without breaking eye contact. Jun called him back an hour later and told him he could do that after he became an engineer and bought his loving, wonderful parents a Ferrari.
Aunt Elly dropped by for barely longer than Uncle Kei's Skype call with a silly keychain she'd brought Akira from Berlin and a promise to stay longer the next time she came out.
Morgana was oddly quiet. Akira figured it was the unsettlingly magical, all-knowing gleam in Elly's eyes. Or maybe it was the time he'd told Morgana about her attempts to summon Satan in his toilet when he was seven.
All was well and good and quiet until four of Akira's aunts "coincidentally" visited at the same time. From the way Aunt Yukino was eyeing Aunt Ulala the second she busted out the alcohol, it was definitely not a twist of fate. (The vague text Tatsuya had sent Akira reading "We just got you babysitters for tonight" may have influenced his conclusion on that.)
Aunt Maya took an inebriated Ulala crying the latest tips from Project Runway into her shirt very well, even when Ulala started exposing Maya's deepest, darkest fashion secrets. (Did you know half of Maya's closet was from middle school? Everyone knew, actually, but the last time someone had bothered to point that out, Ulala had tried to fight a tree.)
Morgana, in a fit of sympathy, had snuggled up to Ulala, because cats were good for emotional breakdowns. Ulala seemed grateful, at least, and had an endless supply of head pats available.
"Ma-ya, you can't put a pattern on a pattern," Ulala sniffed. "Tell her, Morgana."
"You shouldn't mix patterns," Morgana solemnly confirmed.
"See? He knows what's up."
Maya nodded cheerfully. "I love you."
"I love you too," Ulala sobbed. "But seriously, Maya, you can't wear hot pink and magenta in the same outfit."
"Black and pink is a good combination," Morgana said.
"Should we be concerned that she's talking to the cat?" Aunt Anna asked, already halfway through a bottle of straight vodka.
"No," Aunt Yukino said. Her response may have been influenced by the fact that she was videoing the entire thing. | 6197a5e436ca4cbdb867ffd602167be5 | ['3f45eca6d42240fe975a976f0b2b9a37'] | Someone else--also with an eyepatch, but taller, in a suit that fits, and with bright blue hair--sidles into Tsuji's field of vision. Something about him feels vaguely familiar, but Tsuji definitely doesn't know him.
"This is the one," blue-hair guy says, nodding.
"Yeah, uh, who are you?" Tsuji asks. "And why are you knocking on my door at one in the morning?"
"I'm Sid," blue-hair guy says amicably. "This is Ruki, my partner in crime."
"We have a business proposition for you," Ruki says monotonously.
"Uh." Tsuji doesn't know how to respond to anything that's happening right now.
Azuma, like an answer to the prayers he hadn't prayed, pops in behind him.
"Sounds cool. You guys wanna come in? I just made waffles."
"You made waffles?" Tsuji asks.
"It's one in the morning. I popped frozen waffles in the microwave. I'm pretty sure they're freezerburnt."
"Wow," Ruki says, still in a straight deadpan. "That's my favorite flavor."
Tsuji doesn't know if that's supposed to be a joke or not, and he doesn't ask. Sid accepts Azuma's invitation like a normal human being, and they're all seated at the coffee table Tsuji decided was big enough to use as a dining table in no time at all.
"So," Azuma says over the waffle she just took a huge chunk out of. "Business proposition?"
"We saw how you handled the invasion at the party tonight," Sid says, politely holding a waffle even though he looks uninterested in eating it. "We think you'd be a great addition to our demon hunter team."
"Demon hunter team?" Tsuji asks, already on his third waffle. They've been sitting for all of thirty seconds.
"We're small and very close-knit, and a recommendation from me is pretty much a guarantee of entry. Name your price."
Tsuji feels like this is the part where he's supposed to argue in circles for half an hour about how demons aren't real, but, again, he's worked retail. He's stared straight into the eyes of the ninth ring of hell walking the earth and told it he'd speak with his manager about the return policy.
"What exactly would we be doing?" He asks instead.
"Killing demons," Ruki says nonchalantly.
"When you join an association, they work you like cattle until you get yourselves killed or promoted," Sid says a little too brightly. "Day-in, day-out missions for about as much as you'd make at McDonalds with thirty times the risk. No reasoning behind your hits; just taking a job from whoever will offer one."
Azuma pulls another waffle off the plate.
"But," Sid continues, "if you join up with us, you can customize your schedule and understand your missions instead of blindly following them. We're small, we're personal, and we're concerned about community. You might be unaware, but the umbrella term 'demons' covers a large selection of nonhumans, many of which are perfectly benevolent and aren't actually demons. We're trying to promote coexistence among other hunter associations."
Tsuji blinks and glances at Azuma. She's staring right back at him.
"Uh, okay," Tsuji says, feeling like he just got a recruitment letter for a fishy high school scam job more than anything. "I didn't realize demons existed until about three hours ago, so--"
"You what," Sid says, smile frozen on his face.
"He didn't realize demons existed until about three hours ago," Ruki says helpfully.
"That's--You took out a level 8 with a chair!"
"A what?" Azuma asks.
"A chair," Tsuji says.
"Thanks," Azuma says, rolling her eyes so hard that she almost falls out of her chair.
"You haven't worked as a hunter already?" Sid asks, looking so thoroughly baffled that Tsuji almost feels sorry for whatever crisis he's having right now.
"I've gone deer hunting once or twice," Tsuji says. (That had been mind-numbingly awful, but he'd had a gun, which had made it less awful.)
"You don't know who the boy on your couch is, then," Sid says.
Tsuji frowns. "Look, I was kind of panicking over him bleeding everywhere and figured we could get to introductions later." (Would he have remembered the kid's name, regardless? Probably not, but, like, that's not the problem here.)
"No, nevermind, that's probably for the better," Sid says, moving to cross his legs.
Something green flashes.
"Well," Sid sighs. "If you aren't--"
It hits Tsuji like a train right then and there.
"You're the Crocs guy!" Tsuji yells, pointing at Sid's shoes. "Dude!"
"Dude?!" Azuma yells back, eyes flicking to Sid's shoes. They are, indeed, hideous lime green Crocs, charms and all. "Dude!"
"Oh, nice shoes," Ruki says absently.
Sid doesn't know how to react to people yelling about his Crocs, apparently, because he just kind of shifts uncomfortably and mutters something about function over form.
Azuma isn't having any of it. "Sir. It is such an honor. Can I have your autograph?"
"I'm sorry, what?" Sid asks.
"You and your glorious shoes were the only thing keeping me sane during that awful party," Tsuji says, on the verge of tears.
If Sid was confused before, it's nothing compared to the straight puzzlement spelled out on his face now.
"Uh, well, these are my favorite shoes," he says quietly. "Ruki got me the charms."
Ruki shrugs.
Azuma pulls a pen and notepad out of who-knows-where and holds them out to Sid. "Please?"
"You were serious about the autograph?" Sid asks, looking mildly excited under the total confusion on his face.
"I don't kid about my heroes," Azuma says solemnly.
Sid shakes his head and signs the notepad.
Azuma looks like she's about to burst into tears. "Thank you. You've saved my life today."
"Uh, anytime," Sid says, smiling through the chaos.
"So, completely unrelated," Tsuji says, "but what were you saying about paying us to smack demons around?" |
97b99147e72e47a9a0e0e7ecf25e8883 | ['3f72a654538f4671bcbaeec61455a816'] | Gannicus sat in a chair, not having felt such freedom for as long as he could remember. He was to stay at their villa for the night, before returning WITH THEM to the House of Batiatus the next day. Nico had also arranged for Sephie to stay at the ludus, while he attempted to talk the man into selling Gannicus to Sephie. Well, that was their hopes. If not, they would take him and run. He nearly jumped when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, seeing the tiny Thalia standing there.
“Sorry to startle you,” She spoke, her voice light and airy.
Gannicus rose from his seat and turned toward Thalia.
“Is something needed?” He asked.
Thalia gave him a sad smile, before sighing.
“Sephie asked me to inform you,” She spoke steadily, like she was trying to remember it all without messing up, “that she has had a bath drawn if you wish to soak and has ordered food brought for after,” she paused for a moment, “mine and Sephie's fathers hated each other for the longest time. Resented each other. But I love my cousin and she truly likes you. Try not to break her heart.”
Gannicus was confused and understanding at the same time. Despite any differences in the past, the girl loved her big cousin immensely. Gannicus grabbed up his cup and followed Thalia back into the villa. He'd been sitting out on the balcony to watch the sunset, which was rather devastating from the perch. A different view from that of the high set ludus of Quintus Batiatus. More beautiful.
One of Sephie's favorite things about her rooms in the villa was a large private bath that sat at the very center of her rooms, as if it was the main focal point of it.
When Thalia let Gannicus into the room, he kept walking until he saw Sephie sitting upon the bath's edge, feet dipped into the steaming water. She was draped in a sheer amount of blood red linens, wound together in an ornate way to resemble a dress of some kind. Sephie lifted her head when she heard his footsteps stop, smiling upon seeing him.
“I didn't think that you would come,” She spoke softly, but still a little nervous.
Gannicus chuckled, “When offered a warm bath with food and a beautiful woman...” He gave a shrug, “how could I resist.”
He walked around the bath, kneeling on the marble floor next to where Sephie sat.
“Though, lady,” He said softly, his fingertips drifting over the soft skin of her knee, “I was tasked with one thing by Batiatus,” his eyes went from her knee to her face, seeing plump lips softly parted and eyes blown wide, “to see you well satisfied.” | b0d994494bde4fb78d69ebd497593108 | ['3f72a654538f4671bcbaeec61455a816'] | Jump and Suped Up
Title: Jumped and Suped Up
Subtitle: The tale of a girl who could move worlds...not that she knew it......yet.
Author: Me
Fandom: Boondock Saints
Pairing: OC/Murphy
Summary: Jayde was a special girl. And she had no idea just how special. She saw Jumper and Push, so what was about to happen to her might not be TOO heart-attack inducing.
…
Base: Joss Stone as Jayde
...
LINK
…
Prologue: (Jayde's POV)
/There are two types of people in this world when you boil it all down/
My name is Jayde April Stanton. I come from a world where people like Jumpers and Supers are hunted down like animals and executed on live television. I come from a line of Jumpers on my father's side and Supers on my mother's side.
/You got your talkers and your doers/
My dad's a Jumper. I always knew this mom wasn't his first wife. That this wasn't his first family. He told me when I was five that one day he would die and when he did, his body would disappear from our sight and reappear in another world. Unless he used his power to Jump before then.
/Most people are just talkers. All they got is talk./
The first time that I realized I was different...was when I used telekinesis to Push a Supe Hunter off a ledge. He was going to hurt my mom. I was three at the time.
/But when all is said and done, it is the doers who change the world./
That's when we started moving around to the Country Colonies. We have to leave the beautiful and fantastic city for the forests. We had to hide because I killed a Supe Hunter at three years old. I didn't use an ability again until I was six. That time a Jump Hunter had killed my dad and tried to rape my mom. I had watched my dad's body disappear before my very eyes. Then I turned to the Jump Hunter. It was him or mom...and I chose my mom. I used my telekinesis again and this Hunter ended up skewered on a pitchfork.
/And when they do that, they change us./
Every three years. It became habit. Hunters would find us and I was forced to kill them, because Mom had vowed never to use her powers again. She'd done that when she married my dad. Not that their marriage...or my existence...was legal. You had to get a license to even go into the Census building to go through almost year long paper work to get a license to marry. Usually it took longer to get a Child license.
/That's why we never forget them.../
I never forgot anything my dad taught me. Never forgot anything that he told me. I knew his abilities better than mom did. She had decided to remain blissfully ignorant of it. Because she was afraid. She was afraid that one day she would lose him and never get him back. She told me when I was sixteen, a year after I killed my fifth Hunter, that she had made my dad that promise never to Use again. To a point where she actually began to lose her powers. And when I turned 18, I was finally unable to save her. She died protecting me and I killed the Hunter that killed her.
And that was when my life began to change...I was not just a Super...I was a Jumper too. |
b204b57225154815abf11a99658f9f20 | ['3f8a7ecbc388424ba33cb323f0db1f8a'] |
A Ghost
**Author's Note:**
> This was inspired by "I'm Not Calling You a Liar" by Florence + The Machine. Its dedicated to CharlotteShay, for all those depressing stories you made me read, and for rubbing off on me.
>
> I wrote this in about 45 minutes, so if you see any problems that I missed PLEASE tell me about them. I'd appreciate any advice offered.
John had always haunted him. In truth, it was what had ~~attracted~~ made Sherlock interested in John in the first place. Sherlock could read him, but there was always a missing piece, some little thing he’d forgotten or overlooked ~~or ignored~~ , like when he didn’t realize Harry was a sister and not a brother ~~stupid of course John didn’t have a brother, that was obvious from the lines around his eyes~~. Every time he tried to read John, there was always something off. It gave Sherlock a distraction, something to turn over in one corner of his mind, letting him focus the rest of his mind on the case or the experiment or the music. It had been like that from the first day.
The day Sherlock ~~fell~~ jumped, he jumped ~~it was his own choice, it was his own free will, it was on purpose and not an accident, that made it both easier and so much harder~~ , he saw John, and though it hurt ~~so deep too deep~~ to see him in pain like that, there was a part of Sherlock ~~there was always a part of Sherlock, it never stopped, never went away no matter how much he wanted it to~~ that was analyzing John, seeing first-hand how he reacted to the death of someone he considered close ~~of course he would check the pulse even then, it was his training, he’d do it for any one but afterwards the pain was so much more _real_ than it was even with the victims of their most brutal cases~~.
It wasn’t until later, when he had left to find was what left of Moriarty’s network, that he realized that John was truly haunting him. It wasn’t the usual considerations of what he had missed ~~bristle on his toothbrush more worn on the left, slightly worn spot on the top of the handle of his favorite mug, the single picture on the wall of his room, of a rocky beach he had been to as a child, just noticeably tilted~~ , it was something more. He could sometimes _see_ John, picture him in a way he usually didn’t, seeing instead only the tiny oddities, not the whole picture. The longer his hunt dragged on ~~for days and months, past a year, a case that was both electrifying and _boring_ ~~ the more clear John became, more distinct, no longer just looking at Sherlock ~~accusing him, judging him, berating him, and worst of all, the hardest to bear, _begging_ him~~ , but moving, going through his daily routines, making himself an invisible cup of tea, reading a nonexistent newspaper ~~what a silly distinction, of course the newspaper is nonexistent, so is John, but it doesn’t _feel_ that way~~, and leaping up to follow Sherlock whenever he gets a new lead. Then, once, he almost gets shot, because he though, just for a second, that the gun was aimed at John, and that moment made his mind go shockingly blank, giving the assassin just enough time to loose a shot, and although Sherlock jumped out of the way, her bullet just grazed the top of his left shoulder, leaving him with a scar on his shoulder ~~like John~~ not far from his heart ~~like John~~.
Then, one day, Sherlock realized that John was starting to fade. At first, it was tiny changes, in the length of his hair and fingernails. Then, he couldn’t remember how John cut his nails, whether they were cut straight across or rounded. The day he couldn’t remember John’s eye colour ~~blue no a stormy blue, like cerulean, or was it closer to Egyptian blue, or was it lighter, a powder blue, or was it closer to green, a turquoise or pacific blue or teal, or was it gray he couldn’t remember it's in there _somewhere_ he knew he wouldn't have deleted it! ~~ he stayed in bed, unable to move for fear that he would lose something else if he didn’t run through everything he knew about John endlessly.
He knew, then, that he was finished. There were only six more agents left, and Mycroft had been pestering him to return, to let his teams handle this, that he’d done enough, that it was time to come home ~~to John~~.
The day he arrived back in London, he was shaking, ~~terrified~~ uncertain of what John’s reaction would be to his return. He had been gone for almost two years ~~what if John had moved on? Mycroft said he hadn’t but Mycroft _lied_ he always lied what should Sherlock trust him now?~~
He went back to that flat, knowing that John was out buying groceries ~~Mycroft told him that too, what if he'd lied about that >~~ The flat was empty ~~Mycroft hadn't lied, thank God,~~ and Sherlock walked through, seeing his ghost ~~his John~~ more clearly than he had in months. As he wandered ~~almost nothing different, his violin in a cabinet instead of near the desk, the skull at the other end of the mantle, the far wall smooth, unblemished by paint or bullet holes, the books slightly less scattered, his room untouched, but perfectly clean~~ he considered what he would say, what he would do ~~call out to John, let him walk in and see him, play the violin as a warning, make him tea, a sandwich, a drink, say nothing, leave a note by the door, go see Mrs. Hudson first, let him walk in on the two of them together meet him on the street go to the store now see John grab him hold him make him real again memorize him~~. Nothing seemed right, and suddenly he heard footsteps on the stairs ~~oh God where was his time he has to decide what he will do, where has all his time gone where and he wanted this a moment ago but now he’s not sure he doesn’t know _he doesn’t know_ ~~ and then John is there, standing in the door, and the groceries are on the floor around him and Sherlock takes a step and a step and a step, and suddenly his legs give out and he’s on his knees in front of John and he hasn’t said anything and he’s so sorry he knows it is unforgivable and he should never have returned to interrupt John’s life because he’s about to be sent right back out, rejected, abandoned, and –
He feels a pair of hands on his face, pulling him up, making him stand, making him look at John in the eyes, and he has no idea how John’s nails are cut or how long his hair is or what colour his eyes are, all he notices is the joy, the love in those eyes, then the feel of warm lips pressed against his forehead, holding there for a full minute, before he feels them move a few millimeters away, to whisper –
“Welcome home.” | d60ec74a73eb456db120d70a6160e91f | ['3f8a7ecbc388424ba33cb323f0db1f8a'] | Losing a Gamble
He doesn’t understand what went wrong.
Castiel sits on the cheap duvet of the cheaper motel bed. To an outsider, it would appear that he is observing his hands, but Castiel sees none of his surroundings, not the beer bottles, the flannel shirts, the duffel bags full of salt and weapons that are the mark of the Winchesters. All he can see are the expressions that flickered across Dean’s face, from lust to confusion to his look of stony determination, where he finally settled in the second after Castiel kissed him. The expressions had passed too quickly for a normal human to see, but for Castiel, every agonizing change, every muscle twitch, is perfectly preserved, on endless repeat in his mind.
Where did he go wrong? The question plagues Cas. It had been Dean who had initiated the slow build up to this moment, Dean who was always staring at him, standing closer than anyone else, even saving him from Alistair. He had read a book about body language he found in Bobby’s house. At the time, he had been trying to understand what Dean had meant when he had talked to Cas about “personal space”, but as he read the book, he happened to read the section about flirting. At first, he did not understand it. It seemed complicated and confusing, even more foreign than the other strange mannerisms of the human world. As time moved on, however, and Dean moved closer, and Cas better understood what people meant by “emotions”, he realized what was going on. He had gone back for the book, read it better, and poured over the progression from flirting to romance. Over and over, the book told him that the defining moment between the two, when the relationship moved to a higher plain, was with the first kiss. So, Cas had decided to try it.
They were in the cheap motel, somewhere in California, having just finished one job, still looking for another. Because they had nowhere to be, Dean had agreed to stop to let Sam see an old friend. He was planning on spending the night, and although Dean had his misgivings, he agreed to let Sam visit, provided he text Dean every two hours. By the time they reached the hotel and had checked in, Dean was hungry, and had gone out to get some food. Cas had spent that same time deciding to act. Sam was gone, and he and Dean would be alone, which the book told him made people feel less awkward about displays of affection. He sat on the bed and waited. About half an hour later, Dean came in, carrying a pizza box. “Man, that pizza place was-- hey, Cas, you alright? You’re look a little weird.” Cas had stood up, walked over, and pressed his lips against Dean’s. At first, it was awkward and uncomfortable, with Dean standing rigid and frozen. Then, he relaxed, his lips softening slightly against Castiel’s. The kiss was like nothing Cas had ever experienced before. He had seen people kiss on TV, watched Dean kiss Anna, among others, but this was different. It was soft, and sweet, and made Cas think of Heaven, before the war, when everyone was sure Their Father was watching them and guiding them. He felt Dean’s cheek with its light stubble under his hand, and didn’t remember putting it there. He could taste faint echoes of the cherry pie Dean had had after lunch.
Then, suddenly, all he felt was loss.
He opened his eyes, and saw those heartbreaking lines cross Dean’s face, changing him from the man who had kissed Castiel back into the man he had first known, the cold, hard man he pulled from hell.
Dean had left, silently. The first things Castiel registered after he saw those expressions that froze his heart was the slam of the door as Dean let it fall closed behind him, the roar of the Impala. Cas had stepped backward, stumbling away from that spot on the floor, where he had taken a risk, and lost. He moved away until his knees hit the bed, and he sat, collapsing in on himself.
He knew what Dean was doing. He could always feel, at least a little, where he was, what he was doing, if he was in danger. Usually, he could tune it out, pay attention to other things, but now it consumed his entire mind. He couldn’t stop the awareness that Dean had driven to the first bar he saw, and had already had two shots of whiskey in the few moments he’d been there. He knew that Dean was considering the woman who had been looking at him since he first walked into the bar. He knew she was blonde, and short, and curvy, with big brown eyes and full, shiny lips. He even knew, although Dean did not, exactly why Dean was looking at this woman. She was the exact opposite of Castiel’s vessel. He knew when Dean stood up, and walked towards her, and bought her a drink, exactly what would happen. And suddenly, he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to stay in this room where he had seen his deepest desires, the ones he had hidden from himself for so long, had flared so bright, then died, like a demon, under Castiel’s hand. He vanished, leaving the room abandoned and desolate.
**Author's Note:**
> This story was inspired by the song Mr. Brightside. Thank you to CharlotteShay for the excellent advice, as well as finally convincing me to write this, and to my friend containyourselfladdie for all the comments. Thanks Guys! |
d5dc2d3b36914282ae7085b221c105ca | ['3facd73b77e24b9fbef53992a837557a'] | It didn’t take long for Emma to fall asleep. She rested her head on Paul’s shoulder snoring softly, occasionally mumbling whatever she was saying in her dreams. Thats how he was normally able to tell what her dream was about. Every little tick she did in her sleep made him laugh, making her move closer. She trusted him, she trusted him a lot. He grabbed her ice cream, finishing it up for her. Paul never thought his life would end this well, hell he didn't think he would have even made it through high school. But here he was, and god damn he was glad he was still here. He probably wasn’t here for much longer as the apotheosis was rapidly taking control of him but he was going to try his hardest to be there for Emma. No matter what.
11. On the first day of Christmas my abusive, alien husband gave to me…
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> 1\. A partridge in a pear tree, otherwise known as a useless bullshit gift.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Happy first day of christmas, if you celebrate!
Emma was struggling to stand, between the huge wings that were sewn into her skin and the fact that she was still losing a lot of blood. The white dress she was forced into by ‘Paul’ was in fact no longer white, but stained red. The blood was very new and obviously from this fun little encounter with her jackass infected husband.
“Stop being so fucking slow. Move it.” He grabbed her by her hair, dragging her to the living room, ignoring her screams. There, in that room was a fairly large Christmas tree. The white lights glistened enchantingly. It really was a beautiful tree, minus the ornaments…
In a clear view of… anyone was a mixture of religious ornaments and weapons. Guns, flamethrowers, knives, weapons Emma wasn’t aware he owned. Sitting on the top of the extremely tall tree was a small, ornate angel holding Bonnie like it was nothing. There, ever so slightly behind the tree was a dingy meat hook. A large meat hook. One made to hold the weight of a human. He definitely got that one of the black market. And right beside the tree, there was a ladder...
That lead up to the meat hook...
It didn’t take long for Emma to connect the pieces. She began to back away, desperately trying to get away from ‘Paul’. The second he noticed her attempting to escape he grabbed her by her arm, pulling her closer to him. she could see the malice and overall lack of holiday spirit in his eyes. In this story, very much unlike 'The Grinch', Paul's heart will not grow three sizes today. In fact, he will never regret his actions at all, thats just the kind of man he is.
“Nuh-uh.” He dragged her to the ladder. He was glad she was severely underweight, and that he was just really, really strong. But anyways, he liked having this power over her. He was able to get her on the meat hook, no matter how much she shrieked and sobbed. No matter how much she fought back, it was no match for ‘Paul’. He stepped back admiring his work for a little too long. He pulled out his phone. “Say cheese!” She cried out louder.
“Paul stop! Please!” She screamed sobbing harder.
The hook was tearing into her skin, Emma was probably going to pass out from the loss of blood. Paul took a few photos, smiling wickedly.
“Now you finally know what it's like to be tall! hey, Emma. How’s the air up there?” Emma was gasping for air, struggling to breathe, she couldn’t even think, let alone speak. “Listen, this is no fun if you don’t answer me!” She flinched, taking in one last breath. For some reason ’Paul’ finally agreed to let her down, the ringing in her ears had gotten so unbearably loud she literally wanted to cry, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tears. Her head felt like it had just been slammed into a wall, her vision was cloudy and she didn’t remember being this nauseous or sweaty before she got up there. She glared at him, just trying to stabilize her shallow breaths. “Wow… okay no need to glare at me like that, honey.” Shit. Her vision was just fading and getting worse, the world was just spinning and getting dimmer and darker until she fell back, Paul sighed. “Fucking entitled bitch.” He grabbed her wrist dragging her back down to the basement. He threw some bandages at her, letting her bandage herself up if she ever woke up.
12. Day 2- How's it hangin'?
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> take a guess what this chapters about
Paul dragged her to their living room, pushing her to the floor. Her back was still sore from the meat hook and the wings pulling at her skin. She cried out the second she hit the floor, not looking up at the ceiling.
“Happy second day of Christmas, sweetheart.” She tried to back away.
“What? What’s going on? What are you going to do?” She finally looked up to the ceiling noticing a noose, supposedly wrapped in sparkly blue tinsel. He grabbed her leg, making her scream as he had recently re-broken them. He flung her over his shoulder, bringing her over to the chair. He set her feet down on the soft, white material, making her shiver at the temperature of the material. He let her go, looking up at her.
“Oh, you know what to do.” He scoffed. Emma looked at him, trying her hardest to keep the tears at bay.
“Paul… please, don’t make me, this isn’t how I wanted to go out…”
“I know, you wanted to go out shielding orphans from a raging wildfire, yeah… well, sometimes we don’t get to choose how we die. Now, just do it.” Paul spat. | 8d731303e9404782a6516b384ebcf0c9 | ['3facd73b77e24b9fbef53992a837557a'] | _“Do you want to come upstairs and maybe cuddle if you’re okay with it?”_ She shrugged. _“Okay… just come up upstairs whenever your ready, okay, Emma?”_ She shakily nodded, hugging her arms close to her body. Paul stood up, walking past her, feeling that it’s all his fault, Emma was probably going to hate him forever and it was all his fault. By the time he made it to his room he just sat on the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. He flopped back, just staring at the ceiling. There was a gentle knock planted on the opened door. Paul looked over to the doorframe noticing a small, injured girl leaning against the frame. “Paul?” He nodded. “Can we talk just a bit more?” Paul nodded again, patting the space beside him. She hobbled over, leaning against him.
_“Can I put my arm around you?”_ He asked, just wanting her to trust him and them to be back on good terms. She was silent for a bit. God, did he screw it up again?
“Yes.” Paul was ecstatic, just glad she could trust him. He carefully wrapped his arm around her, just trying to help her out. “I just feel powerless, Paul…” he nodded
_“Well, if it helps you to hear this at all, I think you’re extremely powerful, I think you’re the most badass wom-person I’ve ever met. You’ve made it through so much shit, and yet you’re still here. You’re still here and you’re still kicking, giving the universe an eternal ‘fuck you, I’m still here you bitch!’ God, if I were you I wouldn’t have even lived to see this day.”_ Emma looked at him skeptically.
“Really?”
_“Yeah… I don’t know how you do it, sweetheart?”_ She cringed at the name. _“Did you not like that?”_ She nodded yet again. _“I’m sorry Em…”_
“It’s fine.” She sighed, leaning against him ever so slightly.
_“Do you want to go downstairs? Watch a nice, silent movie and eat some ice cream?”_ Paul looked down at Emma.
“I’m not that hungry, but, sure, I guess…” Paul pulled away, holding his hand out to her. They walked down the steps hand and hand until they got to the kitchen. Emma hopped up onto the counter, still wrapped in the blanket she stole from his bed. She watched Paul prepare himself a bowl of ice cream. She always liked the way his eyes looked in this light. The way the silver-blue glistened in the light, and the closer he would get the clearer the specks of electric sparks would become. His eyes would glow sometimes, just a little subconscious thought about her and his eyes would literally light up like a Christmas tree. Like, they would physically glow in the right light. Emma hopped off the counter, sitting on the couch and waiting for him.
A few weeks had passed since everything. Paul threw something at Emma, who was sleeping at the bottom of the stairs on a pile of newspapers.
“Wake up bitch we have someone coming to visit you today.” Emma woke up, looking at the thing that was so rudely thrown at her. There in her hands was a tiny blue shirt that simply said ‘I love my alien husband and musicals.’ in big, bold, dark blue letters. Emma glared up at Paul, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll give you pants when she gets here, put the shirt on.” Paul slammed the door shut, walking away.
There was a sudden knock at the door, Emma, dressed in short, little black pajama shorts and the aforementioned shirt was busy in the kitchen, doing whatever chore Paul had assigned Emma to do. Paul opened the door, to the familiar voice of her girlfriend, Alexandra. Emma looked up from the floor, listening to Paul and Alex’s conversation.
“I got the money, where’s Emma?” Alex sighed, holding the money out to him. He smacked the briefcase out of her arms pulling her closer.
“Oh, I don’t want the money anymore…” he growled against her neck. Emma just watched in terror, knowing this is how he gets them. Alex, who had taken more than a few self-defense classes, flipped Paul. Wiping her hands on her thighs.
“I’m a lesbian, jackass.” Emma has never been more attracted to Alex than in this moment. “Now give me my girlfriend or I call the cops and they’ll get her for me.” Paul was nursing his shoulder, glaring up at her.
“Emma! You have a visitor!” He yelled watching her stumble on from the kitchen. Alex just looked at Emma, taken aback by how miserable Emma looked.
“Emma!” She giggled, hugging her close. Emma jumped pulling away. Alex looked taken aback. “Emma, what happened?” Emma shook her head, looking down. “Come on, let’s go…” Alexandra turned around, Emma wrapped her arms around Alexandra.
They almost made it to the door, they were so close.
Then there was a bang.
Alexandra gasped, gripping her chest.
Emma jumped, knowing what just happened.
Emma helped Alexandra to the bathroom, trying to plug the wound with toilet paper, towels, paper towels, gauze. Everything.
But nothing worked.
Nothing was working and now both of them were crying.
Emma took Alexandra in her arms, whispering to her. Telling her everything. What she meant to her, that she couldn’t live without her. She was the one thing that kept her going. The hope that she’d find her kept her going this long.
Emma held Alexandra close to her, feeling Alexandra sob into her chest as they both uttered their last ‘I love you’s.
Alex went cold, her eyes going blank as she took her last breath in.
Emma was covered in her blood, sobbing loudly, heaving for air. She let out a pained scream before sobbing more.
The love of her life was dead.
The love of her life was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. |
a2a5fee21028418387c89239d674705e | ['3fb0abe744ae4400af020e79be5e63e4'] | He pocketed the scale and carried on down the slope. He slid to a stop, there was a dip and then a sharp rise, which he fell against. On hands and knees, Hiccup scrambled up the rise, only to jerk back as he spotted the huge black shape coiled in the small clearing.
“Oh thor, o thor-othorothor.” Hiccup took a deep breath and crept back up, peeking over the rise.
It was there.
The black dragon, splayed awkwardly on its side and shining in the afternoon sunshine like a gift from the gods.
Hiccup scrambled over the rise.
“I did it.” He breathed, staring awed at the dragon. “I finally killed a dragon!” he said placing his boot on the dragon’s shoulder.
With a low moan the dragon shifted, shrugging Hiccup’s foot aside.
Hiccup fell back as the dragon huffed a raspy breath, and flexed it’s wing halfheartedly against the ropes.
“Oh gods.” Hiccup breathed pushing himself up. The dragon shifted it’s head, watching him with a single green eye. Hiccup exhaled slowly.
“I’m going to kill you dragon. I’m going to cut out your heart and bring it to the village.” He raised the shortsword.
“I’m a viking, I’m going to avenge my father.” Hiccup made the mistake of glancing at the dragon’s face. It was still watching him, was it, afraid?
“I’m a viking!” Hiccup screamed at it.
The nightfury made a small moan, and dropped it’s head, closing it’s eye in the reflexive way that sheep did when you waved your crook too close to their face.
Hiccup raised the sword again, trying to be angry, trying to be a viking -
But he couldn’t do it.
The Nightfury wasn’t a monster, it was just a dragon. And it was scared of him.
Hiccup sighed heavily, feeling tears prick at his eyes again. He looked at the blade in his hand, then back at the ropes.
“I’m going to regret this.”
——————————
Hiccup’s ears were still ringing from the Nightfury’s roar when he pushed open the door to his house later that evening. The dragon had moved fast, but maybe it was more badly injured than it appeared? Was that why it hadn’t killed him?
Hiccup fingered the scale he’d pulled from the fallen tree, feeling the fine, sharp ridges that ran across it.
“Ah, Hiccup.”
Hiccup started, Gobber was sitting by the fire. ”Dragon Training is starting tomorrow.” The older viking said. Hiccup blinked.
“I expect to see you in the ring.”
“But - I-” Hiccup stopped. He certainly needed training. If he couldn’t even kill a wounded Nightfury in the woods, there was no way he was going to kill a Storm-Cutter.
“Sure.” He said.
“Good.” Gobber turned, then paused. "We'll be holding Stoick's funeral in seven days."
"Oh." Hiccup said. what else was he supposed to say? It was tradition after all, but it added an air of finality to hear it said.
"I'll need some help at the forge before Dragon Training between now and then." Gobber added.
"Sure." Hiccup said again, he was really starting to wish Gobber would just leave. The last thing he wanted to think about was preparing the treasures for Stoick's funeral ship. “Well. There's some Supper on the table for you." Gobber said as he opened the door, and left the house.
Hiccup sighed heavily and sat down in front of the fire. It smelled good, probably grease. Hiccup's stomach rumbled.
Right. Food.
Hiccup devoured the meal Gobber had brought, then, realizing how tired he was, stumbled up the stairs.
Dragon training, his father's funeral, the nightfury, Hiccup sighed and collapsed onto the bed. He was asleep before he'd finished the thought.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Because there's lots of movie overlap, I'm gonna do my best to avoid re-hashing move scenes. So- maybe it'll work, maybe it won't.
>
>
>
> EDIT; After some brief google searching I discovered that Vikings generally didn't hold the funeral celebration until 7 days after death.
> So... I'mma use that because reasons. Additionally, heirs didn't inherit until that 7 day mark, so I get to put off the whole cheifdom thing. which is also good because idk how I'm gonna do that.
5. Missed You
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Just a little Stoick/Valka fluff
>
> If it seems a little ooc don't worry - there's a confrontation coming, but I wanted fluff.
>
> After 15 years they deserve a little fluff before angst and arguing and stuff happens.
————————————
After the rush of words, joy, had they danced? Probably. Somehow after all of it, Stoick and Valka had ended up holding each other on the floor.
The storm-cutter had curled around them, Stoick had been nervous at first, but Valka hadn't moved, and he didn't want to break the spell.
There were still things they hadn't said, why she was here, why she'd come back, how much he'd missed her. They hadn't even dealt with the dragons yet... But Valka was curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, as she played with a braid his beard.
The dragon huffed and shifted slightly. Stoick tensed, then relaxed again as the beast settled. Valka chuckled against him.
"Cloudjumper won't hurt us." She said quietly, her voice almost teasing.
Stoick beleived her. Just feeling Valka under his arm made the Chief of Berk feel safer than anything else in the past fifteen years had.
But you can't un-learn a lifetime of wariness just by trusting someone. Although, Stoick was willing to try - at least for tonight.
After a few more moments of silence Valka shifted against him.
"Stoick I have to tell you- We have to talk-" she was resigned, moving away from him, and Stoick wasn't ready to let go of this yet. He moved his arm to her waist, just enough pressure to ask her to stay without holding her back. | b1099fe405bf4ddf8eda7a3c63e895e8 | ['3fb0abe744ae4400af020e79be5e63e4'] |
We Were Friends Once
**Author's Note:**
> I feel like Ned dropped ooc there a bit and I don't even know about Boyde, but I'm too tired to fix it.
>
> Does everyone in this fandom write Boyde as Boyd? am I the only one who writes it with the E? Why do I do that? Idk I just like how it looks with an E.
"Huh"
Ned Chicane opened his eyes surprised a little by the lack of pain he felt.
The last thing he remembers seeing were the stars over Kepler, and now, it appears he is surrounded by them. Slowly Ned sits up and realizes he's on an island, surrounded by a glassy smooth sea lit from above and below by millions of tiny glowing lights. Its different than the stars over Kepler, but no less beautiful
If this is death, its not so bad. Ned has certainly been expecting worse, he had pretty well fucked up Aubrey's whole life, betrayed Duck and everyone else at Amnesty and been an all-around terrible person for most of his life. And that was all without the Abomination ever interfering. Ned winces thinking about Aubrey, hopefully, she stays mad at him. It's so much easier that way.
Ned's spent a long time blaming his problems on ghosts. He hopes Aubrey will do better. Ned smiles slightly, of course, she will, both she and Duck are better people than Ned ever was.
Ned stands up slowly and looks out across the sea. He walks a few steps into the water. it ripples around his feet, it's warm, pleasantly so. Ned stands up to his knees in the water and relishes the feeling for a moment.
"NED FUCKING CHICANE" The shout echos across the sea and Ned jumps and spins around
Boyde Mosche stalks towards him, a heavy glare twisting his features.
"Mosche," Ned says wearily. "What do you want."
"Oh well, its cute of you to play innocent Ned after choking the life out me in my hotel room, but I'm really not in the mood." Boyde has come to a stop inches from Ned who, under normal circumstances would be intimidated, but, 1 he's dead and 2...
"I _what_?" Ned blinks, then, his brain catches up, the hand-shaped bruises on Boyde's neck, the way the abomination had known where everything was... "Son of a bitch, that thing really did want to just royally fuck me over huh."
Boyde blinks. "In case you weren't listening Chicane I-"
"As flattering as I find it that you think I could actually manage to strangle you Boyde, I'm sorry to tell you that I didn't have that particular pleasure. Instead, I imagine you are another victim of a shapeshifter abomination." They are dead, no point in continuing the Facade, Ned thinks.
Boyde splutters angrily for a minute. "You're a decent liar Ned." He says after a moment, "But exactly how dumb do you think I am."
"Well, you did think it was a good idea to rob a house while the people were still in it," Ned says acidly. "Oh, and instead of leaving when we got caught you had to finish filling your pockets so that we had to get into a high-speed chase and then crash the imperial into a tree and knock yourself out. But no I didn't really think you'd believe me, you never listened even when I was talking sense."
"Firstly I don't even know your real name, let alone anything else about you, and secondly; If I remember correctly, it was your clumsy ass that got caught and fucked up what was going to be the biggest score of our lives," Boyde says venomously. "As I recall you took your share and ditched me in the coup and never even thought about me after you got away with the loot I scouted. It seems to me that as soon as I got out of prison and wanted my share you decided to fucking _murder me_."
"How much imagination do you think I have Mosche my name is Edmund Chicane and for the record, I tried to get you out of the fucking car but the door was wrecked and I couldn't get it open." They're practically nose to nose already but Ned leans in closer for an instant. "look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have ditched me in the car if our positions had been switched."
Ned is not shocked when Boyde drops his eyes, they always were thieves first and partners second. Ned is shocked by the soft betrayal in Boyde's voice when he says. "But _why_ Ned? Why kill me? I just wanted to go home." The unspoken "and now I never can" hangs between them for a minute.
Ned steps back and turns back to look at the ocean.
"Look Mosche, I won't say the thought didn't cross my mind when you started threatening my new life. But killing you? Do I really strike you as that kind of guy?" Ned sighs heavily. "Look, Kepler is - a weird town. I'll keep it short, there are monsters that keep attacking town. I was - accidentally recruited."
Boyde actually snorts a laugh. "Who on god's green earth would recruit you to hunt monsters?"
Ned smirks. "Well, they didn't have much choice after I met Bigfoot."
"Ned" Boyde says warningly
"What?"
"I am this close."
"To what? We're both dead Mosche. Are you going to let me tell my fucking story or not?"
Boyde is silent for a minute, and then he chuckles. "Alright fine you met Bigfoot, and got recruited into fighting monsters." |
40cf4c6c457a4ebf9da632a4a16d2347 | ['3fe050f944154d0fa6cf25f73d5e9709'] | cigarette
**Author's Note:**
> I came up with the idea a couple of nights ago at midnight and finally got around to writing it :)
Nines walked outside the cafe, smiling at a couple who looked at him from their table. Turning down the street and heading toward their car, he checked the temperatures of their drinks, heating his hands to maintain their heat.
Once the cups were safely inside their car, which was his partners but the android recalled hearing him refer to the vehicle as theirs, he looked around for Gavin. The man said he’d wait near their car, and to see him gone made his wires tense and his processors hum uncomfortably. Nines walked around the street, peeking around corners, searching for the detective.
He hadn’t found him until he was four streets away; the detective was smoking a cigarette that he held in his shaking hands. Cold winter air could have been a possible suspect, but the shaking’s increase at the sight of the android told him otherwise.
“Detective,” Nines started, continuing despite Gavin squinting his eyes at him. “Why did you leave the car?”
Gavin put out the cigarette on the ground, shaking his head and rubbing a hand along the side of his face. “Because I didn’t want you to see-“ He shook his hands in a gesture Nines didn’t recognise. “This. Me.”
Nines tilted his head. “Why not? I don’t condone smoking and other addictive substances, but you know that it would make me think any less of you.”
“And that too!” Gavin pointed a finger, that did not shake, at Nines’ chest. “You’re so nice and I’m always mean to you and I know I’m being mean but I can’t stop.”
“Detective-“ Nines tried to speak but was stopped by the finger jabbing at his chest.
“I came here to smoke because I know I stopped a couple months ago but the stress was too much and I found it in the glove compartment you keep telling me to clean-“
“Gavin.”
“And I never do. So I found somewhere I could smoke where you wouldn’t find me but I guess that didn’t work out for me either.”
“Gavin.” Nines held the wrist near his chest, gripping it tightly. “Gavin, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Gavin stomped his foot, his face reddening. “I’m so rude to you and you’re so kind and caring,” he shut his eyes, holding back a tear. “I thought maybe if I smoked, you wouldn’t like me anymore.”
“I don’t understand,” Nines loosened his grip on Gavin’s wrist, confused. “We’re partners, positive relationships with close colleagues have shown to improve work ethics.”
“You don’t get it,” Gavin took a deep breath, and Nines noticed his heart rate quicken. “I like you. I have for nearly our entire partnership.”
Gavin continued when Nines didn’t say anything. “I need you to hate me that I know you don’t like me back.”
“Gavin, I don’t hate you.”
“I know, but I need you to do that so I don’t wake up at night crying.” The man looked at Nines, sad but fierce. “So please, just hate me.”
“Gavin, I don’t hate you.” Nines took a step closer. “I never will.”
“Nines,” Gavin’s voice gave off a hint of anger. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Detective,” the RK900 model let go of Gavin’s wrist and held his hand instead. “I am. And I like you as well.”
“Nines, this isn’t funny,” Gavin tried to tug his hand away. “You know what, just-“
Nines held on tightly, staring at Gavin’s eyes and rubbing his thumb across Gavin’s pulse. “Gavin, I’m not kidding.”
The detective looked at him, his eyes going glossy as he blinked. His hand shook in Nines’ grip. “Nines, please.”
Nines pulled him into a hug, holding the shorter man tightly. “Gavin, I mean it.”
Gavin sniffed, a sob escaping him. “Really?”
“Yes, Gavin,” Nines’ voice was soft, his eyes narrowing as Gavin’s heartbeat increased. “I mean it with everything I am.”
Gavin let himself relax in Nines’ arms, the android running a hand up and down his back. “Can I kiss you?”
“Of course,” Nines said, loosening his hold and stepping back. “I would love for you to do so.”
Gavin nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Nines’ own. Their hands found each other in the mess of their kiss, and Gavin held onto him tightly. The cigarette was long forgotten, the only left in its trace were the hints of tobacco Nines’ sensors found.
Gavin laughed when Nines brought it up again later, on their way back to the precinct.
**Author's Note:**
> hope you liked the fic and please go to sleep if you need to. | c5e994b0492b40d0922433cde45bff65 | ['3fe050f944154d0fa6cf25f73d5e9709'] | rainy
**Author's Note:**
> I have more in my google drive! I really wanted to share these, it’s better than letting them rot in a folder in the cloud.
Gavin opens the door to find the android sitting in the rain. Nines makes no noise of acknowledgement when Gavin sits down beside him and drapes a blanket over the both of them. Gavin sighs when distant thunder reaches his ears, letting himself lean on Nines. The android whirs softly in response, a small noise against Gavin’s ears.
“You shouldn’t stay out in the rain, detective,” Nines voice is guttural, soft static creeping between syllables.
“Like I’m gonna leave you.” Gavin didn’t bother raising his voice above a whisper. “What are you doin’ out here anyway?”
Nines’ arm tenses, the whirring sound increasing. “I like the rain.”
Gavin grunts his disapproval. “Don’t lie to me.”
He watches the android’s profile scrunch up ever so slightly. “It’s quiet.”
Gavin hears the whirring die down as Nines continues. “It is better than the winter. I don’t like the frost in my systems.”
Gavin absentmindedly traces a hand on Nines’ arm, shifting under the blanket. “I can get that.”
Nines nods, taking in an unnecessary breath. “I like the. . . tranquility. Before this spring, I had little knowledge on liquid precipitation.”
“You’ve never felt rain before?” Gavin asks, trying to ignore the water in his hair. “Cyberlife didn’t think of everything?”
“I’m afraid they did not,” the android says blankly. Gavin looks up at him before sighing again and pushing him.
Nines doesn’t stop Gavin from pushing him away for a moment. He does look at the man with confusion, tilting his head with his LED a piercing yellow.
Gavin looks at the ground for a long moment before speaking. His grey eyes stare up at the RK900 meaningfully. “You can’t bury this kinda shit down, Nines.”
“I’m burying nothing down.” Red. Yellow. Red. Yellow. Yellow.
“Lying is bad,” Gavin doesn’t relent his gaze. “Just tell me.” Red. Red. Yellow. Red.
Red. Gavin takes Nines’ cold hands in his and pulls them to his chest, scooting back to where he was. “Just tell me, okay? I won’t judge.”
Nines blinks a few times before letting the LED stay on red. “I’m sorry, it’s. . .”
Gavin brushes his thumbs across the other’s palms. “It’s okay.”
“I can’t,” Nines’ voice modulator blanks out as he speaks. “Living, it’s too much.” His hands shake in Gavin’s grip.
Gavin nods because he didn’t know what to expect. The fact that the android is willing to open up to him is something he will have to grapple with later.
Nines looks down at his lap, water dripping down his chin from his hair. “Being deviant has been,” his modulator chips out for a moment, “overwhelming. My emotions sometimes. . .”
Gavin feels an ache in his chest when he sees Nines’ hopeless expression. “My feelings,” Nines shakes his head, eyes falling close. “They’re so overwhelming. They stop entire systems at times. I can’t deal with it all.”
He opens his eyes and looks at Gavin. “How do you do it?”
Gavin takes a moment to search for an answer. “I have no idea. But I guess that’s how life is.”
“Even when you feel bad?” The androids eyes are imploring, and Gavin squirms.
“What do you mean by bad?” Gavin furrows his brows with concern, his breath halting. “Like, anger?”
“Remorse, grief, heartbreak,” Nines lists them off like second nature.
“Desperation, hopelessness. Reje–” Nines stops himself abruptly.
Gavin stops reaching for his shoulder. “What?”
The android doesn’t look at him. “Rejection, Gavin. How do you deal with it?”
“Depends,” Gavin stares at his feet, fiddling with his hands. “Who is she?”
“He’s a dear friend of mine,” Nines takes another one of the breaths. “I love him.”
“And he doesn’t love you?” Gavin thinks of Connor for a second but internally shakes his head. “Are you sure?”
“He seems to be disgusted by me,” Gavin bites his lip while Nines speaks, “I’d prefer to think it’s caused by my being an android, but I also think it is myself.”
Gavin hesitantly puts a hand on Nines shoulder, ignoring a gust of wind that starts a shiver down his spine. Nines returns his gaze, and they lock eyes for a long moment. “I think he’s an idiot.”
Nines seems to take in the information in slowly. “Really?”
Gavin swears he and Nines are leaning forward. A rush of adrenaline closes the distance, and Gavin presses their lips together quickly but softly, waiting a few seconds before pulling away. His eyes are still closed but his lips tingle with a buzz of a budding romance.
Nines is the first one to say something. “Gavin,” is all he says, and the man can barely hear him over the sirens in his head.
“I’m so sorry, Nines,” Gavin looks away almost instantly, feeling his face heat up. “I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean to assume.”
“You were correct, however,” Nines stares back at him calmly. “In your assumption.”
“I was?” Gavin swallows. “I’m the guy?”
“Yes,” Nines’ systems begin whirring again.
“Okay.” Gavin lets his hand rest on Nines knee, holding it with a too tight grip. “Okay. Okay.”
“Your heartbeat is increasing in speed, detective,” the android looks at him with concern.
Gavin leans in again and presses their lips together harder. Nines doesn’t flinch, but holds Gavin gently. Gavin tries not melt into his arms and lets the rain take him away.
**Author's Note:**
> I haven’t read over this in a while so it may or may not be top-notch quality for me, and I’m sorry if it isn’t. Thank you for reading though :) |
daef3776eb6c4e16a209e3fad2db6925 | ['3ff04f6defa9459cad4b5d49a25a5a00'] | Next to the wolf, the draenei loaded his crossbow and fired a bolt, barely missing the wendigo.. He loaded his weapon again while the wendigo snapped at him. Florinn dropped his weapon and delivered a left hook-right jab combination to the wendigo’s jaw. Before the beast could react, Florinn landed another stiff right, causing the wendigo to stumble.
The wendigo dropped to a knee before Florinn took his skinning knife and jammed it into the beast’s throat, mimicking his attack strategy from the day before. The wendigo lunged forward, only to trip and plant in the ground.
Florinn went to help the dwarf and could hear the wendigo moving behind him. He turned to face the beast, only to see the wolf with his jaws in the beast’s throat then heard a crunch.
The wolf let go of the wendigo’s throat, letting the corpse drop beside the bear’s body.
The wolf walked outside and began eating the snow.
Malgin raised an eyebrow as he and Florinn walked outside. “What is it doing now?”
and said,” He’s cleaning his jaws.”
The dwarf was about to say something else when the wolf came by and began licking his face.
Florinn laughed as they made their way back to the brewhall, Malgin’s cursing echoed through the woods. After they entered the hall, Malgin stormed off to wash his face while Florinn and the wolf sat at their table.
Vera smiled and brought them a plate of ribs and two stout pints. Malgin returned, wiping his face with a towel and said “I’ve been thinking lad, have you given him a name?”
Florinn shook his head and Malgin pointed up at a portrait of one of the boxers on the wall. “I’ve been thinking lad, your wolf reminds me of a boxer, the way he moves back and forth.”
Florinn nodded and scratched the wolf behind his ears. “My trainer was named Al’i.”
Malgin nodded. “Al’i sounds like a good name.”
The wolf gave an enthusiastic bark, signaling his approval.
Malgin left his heroes to get some beer. Florinn and Al’i watched as a group of adventurers came through the door. The draenei glanced away and sipped his beer. Before he could turn his back, Al’i grabbed his ribs and ran over to the table. Florinn followed the wolf and came to the table where a gnome wearing purple robes turned to him and said “I remember you, you helped us a few days ago. We are on our way to Ironforge and stopped in for a drink. You’re more than welcome to join us.”
Florinn turned to Al’i, who let out a sheepish grin. He could tell this was going to be a beautiful friendship. | d3866c35ff3d4a86af3c663ef5ba2925 | ['3ff04f6defa9459cad4b5d49a25a5a00'] | Before Chazrael received an answer, the shorter guard slapped his comrade. “Do not answer that, you know Leeroy was discharged for answering such a question.” The guard turned back to Chazrael and Mulligan. “The building will remain vacant.”
As the guards left, Chazrael turned to Mulligan,” Who is Leeroy?”
“He was the priest who would come and bless the restaurant,” Mulligan answered. “I had heard rumors Tnylf let him go.” He grabbed Chazrael’s arm and walked down the street. “Follow me, I will lead you to him.”
******
Chazrael peeked through the window of the house where Mulligan brought him and saw a dwarf hunched on the floor. He left his perch and pulled on the door, prompting Mulligan to ask,” What are you doing?”
“Something is wrong,” Chazrael replied, kicking the door open and rushing to the occupant covered in scratches and torn clothes.
“Leeroy!” Mulligan shouted when Chazrael saw turn over his friend’s body. He pushed Chazrael aside and touched Leeroy’s cold skin. “Help me move him -“ he stopped as a trio of shadowy tendrils seep from Leeroy’s wound and snapped at his face.
Chazrael watch Mulligan smack one to the floor before drawing two daggers and swiping them at the other two tendrils, missing one and hitting the other.
The tendrils fired back, slapping Chazrael’s face while Mulligan grabbed a broken cup and swung wildly at them. Chazrael drove both daggers into the tendrils, causing a shriek to fill the room. He flinched as the tendrils withdrew into the priest. The halfling stabbed at Leeroy’s corpse, causing Mulligan to shout and curse at the halfling.
“He’s already dead, it doesn’t matter,” Chazrael answered before grabbing a small hammer on a chair and striking Leeroy’s face.
Mulligan was about to rake Chazrael when her friend’s corpse shot forward and expelled the tendrils onto the floor. Chazrael struck the tendrils once more, causing them to dissipate. “I am sorry about your friend,” he said to Mulligan. “You will need to burn the body.”
Mulligan’s eyes flared and he began to shout at the halfling in his native tongue.
Chazrael ignored the dwarf’s threats and walked out of the house. “You just can’t tell me to burn his body, and where are you going?” Mulligan asked from the doorway.
“Those tendrils are wail worms,” Chazrael said as he handed Mulligan a dagger. “Demons use those to control the bodies of humans they kill. Those things disappeared into Leeroy’s body and they will reanimate his body. You have two choices, burn Leeroy’s body or keep stabbing him every time he comes back. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Mulligan glanced back at Leeroy and swore it moved. He turned to Chazrael and said,” I take it you are going to see Tnylf.
“I am,” Chazrael grinned. “He and I need to have a chat.”
*****
Avoiding the guards, Chazrael approached the palace from the side and entered through one of the open windows. He grunted when after slamming hie feet on the floor, and pushed the pain aside to move up the stairs and into an open door.
Chazrael approached the viceroy’s hunched body over a wide oaken desk. Tnylf’s lips twisted in a gleeful smirk before sniffing the air.
Chazrael drew a dagger and stepped toward Tnylf as the viceroy contorted his body to face the intruder.
“Tnylf, or should I call you Rugel?” asked Chazrael as the viceroy slinked toward him. “I found your hole at Tuff Oboe’s. You’ve used to the viceroy’s body and influence to kill Leeroy before he could bless the restaurant or tell Mulligan.”
Tnylf’s eyes flared red, his face stretching vertically. “Most mortals recoil when they approach a demon, especially halflings,” a gurgled dark, deep voice from the viceroy’s lips. “You are correct, my name is Rugal, I am a demon from the First Circle who was trapped here years ago. I had come to the Vulcanmines when the kingdom was first established by the earliest dwarves monarchs. I managed to corrupt them before servants of the Golden Hammer came and sealed me in the building’s foundation.”
Chazrael noted how the demon spat at the name of the dwarves deity. He locked eyes with the viceroy, who was inches away from his face. “I spoke to the viceroy over the course of years as he visited the building for his feasts and dinners, promising him safety for his city. When the time was right, I had him free me and possessed his body. I did what I could to conceal my presence. You are correct, I had the priest fired from the guard and killed him in his own home.”
“But why would you stay here?” asked Chazrael, sliding the blade across his hand. “The mountains are a confined place, you want your chaos to spread.”
“You demon hunters think you know everything about us,” Tnylf snorted. “There are many opportunities for my venom to spread. Vulcanmines will be destroyed before any priests and clerics know I was released. And I will be gone before then.”
“I don’t think I can allow that,” Chazrael said as he lunged at the viceroy, who barely dodged the attack.
“Guards, an intruder!” Rugal shouted in Tnylfs’ voice as the halfling plunged his weapon into his chest.
The viceroy grinned once more as he stepped away from Chazrael, rubbing his fingers along the wound. His smile turned into a painful frown as the guards entered the room. “This man attacked me, I want him executed, immediately.”
“Gentlemen, that is not your viceroy, it is a demon -“ Chazrael stopped as one guard swiped his short sword across his stomach. He barely dodged the second attack before driving his shoulder into his opponent.
The halfling stepped back and delivered a right hook into the second guard’s jaw before the other caught him with a swipe across his back.
Chazrael stumbled over as the guard from behind held him while the other drew his blade. |
8888e40066e443eb846882bd82663b0b | ['40288156761547aa81587a7927835d29'] | "None that I can see … no shoes either," she said quickly pulling on a bright blue skirt and a white T-shirt that clung tightly to her breasts. "Hurry up, I want to see what's behind those curtains."
Daniel found his glasses sitting on the small table and after quickly pulling on his pants he came up to Sam's side just as she was pulling back the drapes.
"Holy Hannah!" Sam exclaimed when she saw the vista that lay before them.
The curtains had been covering a large sliding glass door that led out onto an ornate patio. There were hanging baskets and containers brimming over with cascades of colourful flowers and lush vines. Water in several small fountains gurgled happily among the flowers and in one case flowed into a small pool full of exotic looking fish. Plush lounge chairs were scattered over the deck area and around a large table that had a brilliant blue umbrella open over it. On the table there were platters of fruit, vegetables, cheese and bread, with a bottle of Champagne chilling at the side.
Several steps led down from the deck onto another patio that was mainly occupied by a large oval swimming pool. This deck was also ablaze with flowers, fountains and lounge chairs. More steps led from that deck down onto a very white pristine beach. The sand surrounded a U shaped turquoise blue lagoon and beyond the tranquil water an ocean could be seen in the distance.
"What in the world is going on?" Daniel asked as he and Sam moved across the deck towards the table.
"Lya maybe?"
"You think?"
"I do." Sam lifted a cream coloured sheet of stationary off the table and handed it to Daniel.
This is my gift to you. Love and take care of each other. This time and place is only for you and no one else. Do not worry about the little ones, they know you are safe. General O'Neill and Teal'c are safe as well. I will come for you in seven of your earth days. Lya.
Daniel seemed perplexed. "Why is she is doing this?"
"You and Lya have a bond."
"Sam?" Daniel looked at his wife, puzzled by her comment.
"When you were sick … those days before we went to Atlantis … you spoke to me about how we never really had any time for just the two of us ... you said you would love to take me away to some place where there was no one but the two of us."
"I did?"
"Well, you were pretty sick and hallucinating," Sam remembered sadly, "so I suppose you don't remember."
"Not really no." Daniel admitted.
"Anyway, I think Lya sensed how you felt and I'm thinking she's giving us this gift because of that."
"Our own private paradise." Daniel pulled her hand into his and they gazed over the tropical landscape that lay before them.
They continued to stand hand in hand for a few silent minutes before Sam smiled up at her husband. "Well I don't know about you but I'm starved."
Daniel grinned wickedly before he pulled her into his arms. They melted together and their lips and tongues danced a long slow sensual dance. Daniel's hands slowly but greedily roamed over her body until they reached the round curves of her backside. He pulled her in tighter and she groaned in ecstasy when his hips moulded and then began to grind rhythmically with hers. Little zats of electricity shot through her and she let out a little whimper of protest when, due to the need for oxygen, they finally parted. Sam breathed heavily as they stared intently at each other.
"I..I.. actually meant hungry for food … but that was nice too."
Daniel placed his hands on either side of her face and his mouth mated with hers again before it became very interested in the contours of her neck. A small shriek escaped her lips when his hands moved deftly down the sides of her body and then up under the tight t-shirt finding their mark on her breasts. His fingers fondled the tight little peaks and she gasped as the t-shirt suddenly disappeared off her.
"Oh the hell with it," she giggled when they fell onto the nearest lounge chair, "we can eat later."
Many hours later, after they had christened several of the lounge chairs, the pool, the bed and the large Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, they finally ate the food that had been provided. They sat closely side by side and in between bites of cheese or fruit, they would share soft kisses and tender touches. Sam looked dreamily into her husband's eyes remembering the wonderful things he had done to her body and the things that he let her do in exchange. Gone was the man who had earlier that day been so self-conscious of his body. When they were done eating they took a large blanket they found and moved down onto the beach to watch the sun set over the horizon.
For the next few days Daniel and Sam's days were spent in much the same way. Every morning when they woke up, they would find food on the table – fruit, cheese, bread, juice and even coffee. When they went off to explore their surroundings or back to bed to explore each other, the dishes would vanish and would be replaced with lunch and then again dinner. Sometimes there was cooked fish, rice or lentils but never meat of any kind.
The small house they slept in consisted only of the bedroom and the bathroom. Every time they came back into house, the bed would be made with fresh linens and new towels were stacked neatly on the vanity. Dirty clothes were gone and replaced with clean new ones. One time when they were in the throes of lovemaking Sam wondered if Lya was somewhere watching them. | d0af0dadfdce4ea3ac7a0e0149c849db | ['40288156761547aa81587a7927835d29'] | Sam did not answer the question. "I'll get him." She pushed past Jack and gently lifted Jon out of his seat and pulled him protectively against her chest. The little boy didn't wake but instinctively nuzzled closer into his mother. Sarah lifted Laura out of her seat and told Jack to get the backpacks and bags out of the trunk. Jack complied but he continued to watch Sam with interest. Not unexpectedly she looked like she had been through the ringer. Her hair was pulled haphazardly in a loose pony tail; loose strands sticking out all over the place. She was very pale and it was evident from her eyes that she had been crying.
"Did they behave for you?" Sam asked, pushing a strand of hair off Jon's face, before kissing his brow.
"They were perfect angels," Sarah smiled cradling Laura who had Mr. Bunny plus two other new stuffed animals nestled in her arms.
"Sam … are you going to answer my question, how's Daniel?" Jack asked as he followed her and his wife into the house.
"He's ... he's sick," she managed to croak out.
"Oh for crying out loud!" he called up the stairs after her, "You know what I mean!"
"Jack, not so loud." Sarah hissed quietly at him over her shoulder, as she followed Sam up the stairs. "You'll wake the little ones up."
He dropped the twin’s backpacks and a mountain of shopping bags on the floor and limped slowly up the stairs. Before he made it to the top, Charlotte bounded by him, giving him a hasty greeting as she sped by. By the time he got to the top, Sarah, Sam and the nurse were already in the twin's room. Charlotte was helping Sarah untangle the stuffed toys from a quietly whimpering Laura's grasp.
"Come on sweetie," Sarah gently cooed in her ear, "we need to get your jammies on."
Jack moved over to Jon's bed, where Sam was maneuvering her son's arms so she could get his hoody off.
"Sam … what's going on?" he asked as he helped her pull Jon's clothes off his limp body. "We told you we would take care of these two characters … you should be with Daniel."
"Carolyn discharged him .. three hours ago."
"What? ... Why the hell didn't Mitchell call me?"
"I told Cam not to call you."
"For god's sake Sam .. why not!"
"Jack! … Shhh!" Sarah glared over at him, putting her finger over her mouth.
Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, "Well, he must be better then ... for Carolyn to discharge him? ... right?"
"N..no ...not ... not really ..." Sam's voice wavered as she pulled on Jon's pajama bottoms.
"Then why in the world is he not in the infirmary? …. Sam?" Jack reached out to touch her, when he saw large tears beginning to well up in her eyes, but was firmly pushed aside by Charlotte.
"General, why don't you go and see Daniel ... he's in his office." Charlotte suggested as Sam cried into her shoulder.
"Umm … OK." Totally bewildered, Jack moved slowly towards the door.
"And general," Charlotte continued, rubbing Sam's back and arms, "maybe you can convince him to go to bed."
Before he left, Jack exchanged a look with Sarah and could see that she was just as confused as he was.
Jack left the room and crossed the hall to Daniel's office. He raised his hand to knock, but decided against it and just opened the door. The room was dark except for the street light that dimly shone through the open window.
"Daniel … you in here?" Jack squinted into the darkness and barely made out Daniel's still form in the farthest corner of the room. "Ahh … there you are … say, why don't I put on a light, my eyes aren't what they use to be."
Jack fumbled around, before he found a lamp on the desk. He turned back to Daniel and saw that his head was leaning back against the large over-stuffed chair he was sitting in. His eyes were closed; glasses nowhere to be seen. When Daniel continued to remain silent, Jack hesitantly moved towards him.
"You sleeping?" he asked quietly giving him a little nudge on the shoulder. There was a silent pause before Jack reached to touch him again. He jumped slightly, when Daniel's eyes popped open.
"G..go away ... J..jack." Daniel hoarsely croaked.
"Not going to happen," Jack replied. He gently pushed Daniel's feet off the footstool they were resting on. He sank his aching form down and gave Daniel the once over. Jack wasn't sure why the hell Carolyn had sprung him out of the infirmary, but he was determined to find out. God ... the man looked like death had warmed over him. His skin was ghostly white and deep dark circles were etched under his red rimmed eyes.
" P..please … go!"
"Listen Daniel, I have chased your offspring all over the damned zoo all day and then endured the fine dining experience of Chuck E. Cheese. There is no way you are going to make me move. So you might as well spill and tell me what the hell is going on, because I have to be blunt … you look like shit!"
"I'm," Daniel sighed like the weight of the world was on him, "j.. just a little … t..tired."
"Bull shit! Twenty four hours ago you were raced to the SGC after having one of your seizures and now I find you here looking like this. You had more colour in your face when you were playing a damned Prior. Why the hell did Carolyn let you go?" |
93493eb2aca24a61848f100c36e3db0c | ['404a57c1cc7f49fcbf83a42cd2fb8f5e'] |
Bleeding Out For You
_ I could’ve sworn… weren’t there just three girls there just a moment ago? When did three more get here? _
Haruhi blinked her eyes sleepily and rubbed at them in an attempt to clear her mind from its fog. She was settled on her sofa in the Host Club room, but she wanted nothing more than to shoo away her customers and curl up on the couch and just..._ take a nap. _
“Haruhi? Haruhi~?”
There was a blur of blonde. _ Oh, Tamaki-senpai. _
“What is it senpai?” She mumbled, trying to focus her eyes and brain on the same thing. She was looking at his face, but her mind was swimming. She stared at him blankly. _ Oh, he’s talking. _Her head spun, and then there were two Tamakis…?
“Haruhi? Hey, is everything all right?” He was kneeling in front of her know, placing his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, but her eyes were drooping violently. Tamaki looked fuzzy, and dark. He looked like he was a mass of darkness, or was that her eyelids? She blinked rapidly, and white dots flashed in her eyes. Her hands tingled. “Haruhi?”
She felt so, _ so tired _.
“I’m taking you to the nurse. Come on.” She heard the silky smooth voice of Tamaki say and then a hand was lifting her from the sofa and her head spun so violently her stomach lurched and she gagged, hand barely flying up to cover her mouth in time. “Shoot.” She heard Tamaki mumble, but her gaze was trained to the pink tiled floor of the school. Tamaki hoisted her along, her head lolling numbly against his side, and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears.
“We’re going down the stairs.” Tamaki’s voice rumbled in her brain cavity. It bounced around in waves that made her want to screw her eyes shut, but she instead weakly nodded and raised her head in order to not fall down the grand marble staircase.
Tamaki supported the bulk of her weight the whole way down, which felt nice because her legs felt like jello and her brain had turned to mush. They were on the landing that connected the third and second floor, about to start down the second staircase, when Haruhi saw something black dart across the floor on the floor below her. She frowned. Was there some sort of animal?
She frowned, and ignored Tamaki’s question of what she was looking at, and scanned the ground as Tamaki all but carried her down the stairs. _ Where had it gone? _
She leaned forward to see if it had darted around a pillar, and that’s when her foot slipped on the freshly cleaned marble and she pitched forward.
Tamaki let out a startled, choked sort of wheeze and lunged to catch the smaller girl, but he only grazed her uniform jacket as she pitched down the stairs
“HARUHI!”
He could only watch frozen in sheer horror as she
Bounced
Down
The
Steps.
Her head hit the ground with a final _ c r a c k _and Tamaki finally jumped back into motion. He was screaming, running down the stairs, dropping to his knees by Haruhi’s side and cradling her head in his lap. Something was wrong with her hair. It was wet, but Tamaki knew she hadn’t showered recently.
He pulled his hand away, shaking.
Blood had painted his pale skin a sickly crimson.
Tamaki screamed. He screamed for someone to help, for someone to tell him what to do. He was too afraid to touch Haruhi’s small body which he noticed in that moment _ wasn’t moving _and her eyes were closed tight.
Fumbling in his jacket pocket, he produced his phone and with trembling, bloody fingers, he hit the speed dial button.
“What could you possibly want now--”
“KYOYA!”
There was a pause on the other side of the phone, then a “Shut the hell up.” in the distance. Then, “What did you do. You don’t _ ever _call me Kyoya.”
Tamaki was shaking now, tears dropping in splatters on the pink floor made darker by Haruhi’s blood. _ What was he supposed to d o? _
“I-I went to take H-Haruhi to the nurses because she looked r-really sick, a-a-and then she fell down the stairs and Kyoya her head is bleeding and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO! HELP ME _ PLEASE!” _
Kyoya said something that burned Tamaki’s ears, but he didn’t even have the mind to reprimand him this time.
“Where are you? I’m calling my father’s police force and medical team.”
“T-The staircase, Kyoya--”
“Shush. Stay right there.” There was something soft about Kyoya’s voice, and then the phone line went dead and there were pounding footsteps on the staircase. Tamaki couldn’t shake the fear in his heart that Kyoya too would fall as he ran full speed ahead down the staircase, black phone in hand, talking rapidly. He didn’t even care when the twins, Honey, and Mori ran after him practically tripping over themselves to get to the two at the bottom.
“The EMTs are coming. They’ll be here in about two minutes.” Kyoya told him, shrugging off his jacket like the _ valiant knight _he was and gingerly lifting Haruhi’s sticky head out of Tamaki’s lap before wrapping it in the blue blazer. Tamaki watched helplessly as the light blue turned into a deep purple.
“I don’t...I don’t…” Tamaki was at a loss for words as his head swam. “She, I don’t know--”
“Calm down, Tamaki. She’ll be okay.” Kyoya placed a hand on his shoulder, and Tamaki tried to ignore how bloody the dark haired boy’s fingernails were.
“Tama-chan? Haru-chan is gonna be okay, right?” Honey whispered from where he had buried his face into Mori’s jacket. His cheeks were red and blotchy and tears rolled from his ducts like they were racing to get to his chin first.
“Yeah, boss, it...it isn’t bad right?” Hikaru asked, and Tamaki had to fight down the rage that came with seeing the twin holding Haruhi’s hand in his own, the other hand holding Kaoru’s. It wasn’t the time nor the place.
“I...I don’t know.” He whispered, and the host club sat in silence until sirens could be heard nearby and Haruhi was taken from their hands and put into the back of an Ambulance and carted off to the hospital.
“I’ll call her father.” Kyoya whispered, and Tamaki nodded, feeling numb. “Then we can go visit her.”
“I’ll bring Usa-chan! Do you think she’ll like that?” Honey chirped, though the sound was more hollow than usual.
“Yes, Mitsukuni.” Mori nodded, running a big hand through the smaller boy’s hair.
Every minute until Tamaki got to see his little girl (although he didn’t want to call her that -- _ his girl _seemed more appropriate to him) was agony, but when he was finally let into her hospital room by the nurses (and eventually, her father) he held so tightly to his chest, whispering apologies into her dark hair.
(She complained later, but if you asked her in the future, she would say that was the moment she understood how much Tamaki loved her, and how much the host club cared about her.) | ca171a5d2b7b4cbca897d4cefad865e1 | ['404a57c1cc7f49fcbf83a42cd2fb8f5e'] |
Can You Hear Me? I Have A Lot To Say.
_ Hey, Pyrrha, it’s me. _
Jaune’s knees dug into the harsh gravel on the road. He knelt in front of the whole crowd. Civilians, hunters, huntresses, and murderers alike. He didn’t know who this fauness was that had a gun pressed stiffly into the back of his head. He didn’t know where he was, really. He could see Ruby clawing her way through the crowd, reaching for him through the barrier he knew she couldn’t break.
_ So, I know we, ya know, made this pact. That if either of us died, the other one would avenge them? That we’d stay alive and live for them? Well, I kinda messed that up. Sorry. _
“Any last words?” The fauness’ words dripped with icy venom. He could hear a smirk in his voice. He knew he had Jaune at his whim. Hands bound behind his back, knees bloody, head bowed low in submission. “Go on, you have time to say goodbye.” The gun pressed harder into the nape of his neck, perking up just into his hairline.
He had him trapped in this...cage… of sorts. An exhibitionist chamber. Surrounded on all sides with cement, a single computer monitor showing him angle after angle after angle of his friends fighting for their lives. Was any of it real?
_ Yeah, so, I guess I’m gonna come join you now. I should be more excited, huh? I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not that I’m not happy to come spend time with you again it’s just...well, you know how it is. _
“Nothing?” The fauness grinned malevolently, and although Jaune couldn’t see him, he could just _ feel _it. “Alright then. Time to go.”
_ Hey, so I’ll finish quick. I have a few questions I really wanted to ask you when I got there, but right now I can’t really remember them. I’ll just stick to the facts. _
The gun cocked.
_ RWBY really misses you. Weiss won’t admit it, but I can see it in her eyes when someone mentions your name. And you know that cereal box you’re on? Blake bought one and it’s just kinda sitting in her room. She hasn’t opened it, and neither has Yang, which is surprising considering how hungry she always says she is. Either way, no one has ever opened it, and I’m pretty sure it’s gone stale. Ruby sometimes comes and will talk to me about you. She’s upset. She cries a lot, but it’s nice to be able to talk to someone, she says. She’s right. I guess I’ll have you to talk to now, huh? _
There was a high pitched whining sound, a light squeeze. A trigger.
_ Okay, okay. So, there’s a lot I wanted to tell you while I was still alive so I’m gonna speed up some okay? If it doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry, but here goes nothing. Pyrrha, I really liked your hair. I don’t know what it is about it, but it’s always super soft and I like the color. It’s bright and firey and full of spirit, just like you. It compliments your eyes perfectly. I can’t even imagine it looking any different or it wouldn’t be as beautiful. Which...uhm...brings me to my next point. You’re absolutely stunning, Pyrrha. I wish I had been able to tell you that more often when you were with us. You always had a smile on your face, and I love the way your eyes light up when you geek out about something. _
_ And the fact that no one asked you to the dance? God, I was blown away. I really wanted to, but we had that bet, and I didn’t wanna ask you out and make you think I was trying to get out of it. Any man who didn’t want you to be his date must’ve been absolutely insane. I mean, who wouldn’t want you as their partner? You’re so much more than just your looks. You’re a brain, a nerd, a friend, inspirational. I wish I had asked you. I was going to ask you the next year, to be honest with you, but I guess that won’t really turn out the way I wanted it to, huh? It’s okay. We can dance together up there. I’ve been practicing with Nora. She says that Ren and her used to dance together all the time as kids, and she couldn’t wait to teach me. _
_ Oh, Ren and Nora. Yeah, I’m gonna miss the crap out of them. They’re the best. It’ll absolutely break Nora’s heart to see another member of team JNPR leave. I hope she doesn’t cry too much because I’ll feel worse than I already do. _
_ Is that too selfish to ask? It’s definitely too selfish. _
“Goodnight.”
_ Hey, before I go, I really wanted to say this when we were both alive, but I guess this will have to do. I don’t want to wait until I’m dead to tell you this Pyrrha. _
_ I love you. _
_ So, so, so much. _
_ I think I loved you from the moment I saw you. There was something about you that just drew me in. And sure, that might have just been because you’re so pretty, but when I got to know you, I couldn’t leave. _
_ I still can’t leave. _
_ I can’t forget you. _
_ I love you, Pyrrha. _
A gunshot. A single bullet to the back of the head.
Blonde hair dyed blood red.
Jaune was dead.
Somewhere in the world, a girl with orange hair felt chills run down her arms. A woman with snow white eyes felt something in her break. A young kid with black hair and gray eyes shed a tear.
[_ Hey, Jaune. I missed you.] _
_ [I missed you too. Did you hear me?] _
_ [Every word.] _
_ [I’m sorry I couldn’t uphold my end of the promise.] _
_ [It doesn’t matter. We have each other now, right? That’s what matters.] _
_ [That’s what matters.] _ |
e5c170c5f50c4a5d83ce607900eaa750 | ['40ac85d2f16146368d97207b0a81068e'] | **Author's Note:**
> The allegiances for the Clan that this story focuses on! Note: I tried to follow traditional naming, but then I said heck it
MOONCLAN
Leader: Morningstar- silver tabby molly with blue eyes
Deputy: Blackthorn- long-furred black tom with deep green eyes
(Apprentice: Sunpaw)
Medicine Cat: Featherlight- pale grey tom with light golden eyes and a sweeping tail
Warriors (toms and mollies without kits):
Eagleflight- bulky brown tabby tom with amber eyes and a stumpy tail
(Apprentice: Ferretpaw)
Rabbitleap- small ruddy tom with a white underbelly and paws
Fallowstep- light cream molly with ginger ears and blue eyes
Falconfur- pale ginger tabby molly
Ivyheart- silver-gray tabby tom with green eyes
Redwing- red-and-white molly with a long tail and tufted ears
(Apprentice: Cinderpaw)
Wolftail- dark tom with golden eyes
Stormclaw- dark grey tom with amber eyes
(Apprentice: Shadepaw)
Apprentices (toms and mollies at least six moons old, training to be warriors):
Sunpaw- orange-golden tom with blue eyes
Shadepaw- very dark gray, almost black molly
Ferretpaw- White and grey tom
Cinderpaw- chocolate-and-white tortoiseshell molly with pale green eyes
Queens (mollies expecting or nursing kits):
Leafpelt- Ginger and white molly
Kits:
Blizzardkit- all white tom with one blue eye and one amber eye
Rainkit- grey tabby tom with pale grey eyes
Cloudkit- ginger-and-white patched tom with blue eyes
Mistkit- grey tabby molly with green eyes
Dawnkit- pale gray molly with clear blue eyes and white patches
Brightkit- pale flame-point molly with light blue eyes
Fawnwhisper- light brown molly with white flecks and paws
Kits:
Frecklekit- fluffy golden-brown tom with a distinctly dappled coat and amber eyes
Hazelkit- golden-brown molly with thick tabby stripes
Elders (retired warriors and medicine cats):
Willowcloud- pale grey tom with light green eyes
CATS OUTSIDE THE CLANS
Ducky- tortoiseshell tom with bright amber eyes
Maxie- A heavy set torbie with white paws | 73e498372d534ba8a5ca012a84f1ce0a | ['40ac85d2f16146368d97207b0a81068e'] | Orange Chicken
**Author's Note:**
> This is my first fic, so please go easy on me!!! (ﾉ●ω●)ﾉ
>
> And thank u Sexinari for inspiring me to write haha
>
> (ps there's like...no editing so please excuse mistakes, I promise I'm literate)
As winter wraps its cold hands around the world, all of Earth’s creatures grow calm and quiet, falling into a deep slumber beneath the thick blankets of snow that float gently down from gray skies. Silence lays heavily over the night, and starlight catches on frozen crystals of ice that hang in the air. A calm peace permeates everything.
KRACK-OOM!
A loud explosion echoed from the kitchen of dorm 1-A, followed by the shattering of several dishes as they fall from their shelves in the aftershocks.
Bakugou stood beside the kitchen island, his palms smoking. “Who the hell,” he growled. “Ate my leftover takeout?” The explosive teen gritted his teeth, his livid gaze raking over the three classmates who were present, all sitting in the living room -- Tokoyami, Aoyama, and Ashido.
The three of them blinked back at him before Ashido rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh.
“Um, you know I’m more of a sesame gal!” The pink girl stated, flicking her hand as if this fact was well-known and obvious. Tokoyami crossed his arms and furrowed his brow beside her.
“I’ve been reconsidering my stance of poultry products as of late, as I can’t help but to wonder if, because of my body, it would be considered cannibalism…” he said darkly.
Bakugou snapped his gaze to Aoyama next, who was reclined on the couch with his blond hair in a towel, a sheet mask applied, and two perfectly circular cucumber slices placed over his eyes. The boy was still for a moment, then gave his alibi.
“I cannot believe you would even insinuate that I would eat such horrific and horrible food. We all know that I believe in only the finest cuisines and luxuries for moi.” Aoyama replied in one breath, not making a single move to change his relaxed position.
Bakugou tugged at his hair with one hand and slapped the counter with his other. “THEN WHO-”
It was just then that a certain sharp-toothed redhead entered the room.
"Yo! Shitty Hair!" Bakugou said, grinding his teeth. "Help me find the bastard that ate my-" Bakugou stopped dead, the familiar cold dread of betrayal creeping over him like a glacier slowly crawling over the landscape.
Held in Kirishima’s hand was the most incriminating evidence of the night -- the container that had once held Bakugou’s precious chicken. There was even a little sauce left, congealed into the corner. Takeout orange chicken was the one “junk” food that Bakugou let himself indulge in, and it had been taken away from him.
"Shitty. Hair." Each word came out short, like Bakugou's temper. "Because I like you, I'm giving you a 3-second head start."
"Bakubro! I-" Kirishima began begging for his life.
"One."
"I didn't know it was-" The boy was pleading with the executioner, truly.
"Two."
"Wait-!" Kirishima, you're rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, my friend.
"Run."
Bakugou flew across the room with an explosion from his palm, vaulting the island easily. The former orange chicken container dropped to the floor, the living room carpet an unfortunate casualty.
Kirishima took off, hardening himself against Bakugou's enraged explosions.
"Bakugouuuu!" Kirishima pleaded. "I'm sorry!!!"
"Shut it Shitty Hair!" Bakugou yelled. "You're already dead!!!"
Kirishima ran through the dormitory halls like a deer being chased by a lion; a blond, super-powered lion. No place in the dorm was safe from the rage of Bakugou, or his grief over his chicken.
Eventually, their chase led them to the dead-end of a hallway, Bakugou panting and his face red from exertion.
"You get thirty seconds to explain," said Bakugou, already partially bent into a fighting pose. "Go."
"Okay, uh," Kirishima started, scrambling for a good explanation. He was grasping for straws here -- he saw chicken, he ate it. His mind was racing, and then fell onto a thought.
"Wait, uh, remember why you gave me a three-second start?" Said Kirishima hesitantly.
"What." Bakugou stood up. What did Bakugou's angelic, heroic mercy have to do with his chicken?
"You, you said," the redhead faltered for a second, then put on a bad imitation of the fiery blond.
"'Because I like you, I'm giving you a 3-second head start.'"
"And?" Bakugou said, growing impatient, curls of smoke rising from his palms.
Kirishima chuckled a little, looking sideways away from Bakugou's red and angry face.
A blush painted Kirishima's nose and cheeks. "You like me?" He asked.
Suddenly, Bakugou's face was red for a whole new reason. |
20cbe7cdba22427f8a8a688afbc3b23a | ['40ba86c7750442419e34f6f5b29476c8'] |
No One But You
**Author's Note:**
> I hope you enjoy this little thing, I was inspired. Be gentle, this is like my second attempt at smut.
>
> I'd like to give a special thanks to @ ineffablesam on twitter for being my beta and my voice of reason. This is better because of you! (Go read their fics here @ sambumblebee)
As they sat on a bench, barely believing they had survived what had meant to be Armageddon, the angel of the Eastern gate, Aziraphale, and the demon Crowley were discussing the near future.
“You can stay at my place, if you’d like,” Crowley had offered in the softest register of his voice.
“I don’t think my side would like that,” replied the principality, looking down.
“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do. We’re on our own side now.”
And there it was. Something neither of them had let slither in before, something so human and so beautiful: _ hope _ . Aziraphale’s eyes widened and a nervous smile crept on his face. If Crowley hadn’t been wearing his shades, the angel would have seen that his eyes were scared but giddy. The bus stopped in front of them and they got up in unison. The demon paid for their fare and chose a seat. In an act of bravery, he delicately took Aziraphale’s hand, and as they sat down, he put their linked fingers on his thigh. He could tell the angel was flustered by the gesture, but he soldiered on. _ We waited long enough _ , he thought rightfully. The principality turned his face towards the demon, admiring his features. His stare lingered on the mark left by the fall, what so many humans thought of as a tattoo. The little snake was suddenly against a bright blush, as Crowley was very aware of the periwinkle eyes on him. They remained silent the whole ride, the few other sleepy passengers taking no notice of the greatest moment of two supernatural beings’ life.
They finally arrived in the posh neighbourhood of Crowley’s flat and when they got off, the bus driver wished a good night to “the two lovebirds.”
Refusing to let go of Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley miracled the door open, using whatever ounce of power he had left after the events of earlier this evening. They stood in the entry for a while, taking in very different things. The demon realized just now that Aziraphale had never set foot in his lair. The latter was basking in the beauty of the place. There was a definite smell of _ Crowley _ floating about and the flat was sparsely decorated.
“’S’not as nice as your bookshop but…”
“I love it,” reassured the angel immediately.
Crowley softly let Aziraphale’s hand slip out of his and moved towards the kitchen.
“Tea, angel? Wine? Whatever you want!”
The principality asked for wine, he felt like they needed it after what had happened and... The thought made Aziraphale shiver, what was bound to happen. He walked about Crowley’s living room, and noticed a hallway. At the very end stood a peculiar piece of art which caught his attention. He stared until he felt a warm hand softly brushing his elbow. The demon gave him his wine glass as they admired the statue in silence. Two bodies were intertwined together, their wings spread out. The figure on top had a strong grip hold of the other, twisting their arm behind their back. They were both naked and their muscles carved out of marble were wonderfully real. Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush and he tried to hide it by drinking the delicious wine.
“What is it called?” he finally asked Crowley.
“Hereditary enemies.”
Incapable of keeping his poker face, the angel gaped in the direction of the demon. As he turned around to face Crowley he noticed he had taken off his glasses. His yellow eyes were focused on the twirling dark liquid in the glass, clearly shying away from judgement. Aziraphale never ceased to feel touched by Crowley’s trust. He knew he only took his glasses off when he felt comfortable.
The principality reached for Crowley’s arm, about to say something when-
“I love you,” the demon blurted out. “I love you, angel, and I’m too tired to keep pretending.”
Crowley was trying his best to keep eye contact, but he kept blinking tears away.
Aziraphale calmly took both their glasses and put them on the statue. He turned back to Crowley, who looked more desperate than ever. He took another step closer to the demon. He cupped Crowley’s face with his hand, heart fluttering at the contact forbidden only hours ago. The redhead leaned into the touch, eyes falling shut. He exhaled shakily. The angel closed the gap between them, sealing their lips together. Crowley immediately responded to the kiss, grasping at the principality’s collar, pulling him even closer. As their tongues met each other, literal sparks flew. Crowley stopped immediately, clapping a hand to his mouth, terrified he had hurt his angel. Aziraphale’s eyes were wide open, but a bright smile spread across his face.
“My wonderful, dear boy,” he whispered, in awe. He slipped his hand at the nape of Crowley’s neck and brought him in for another kiss. He ran his fingers in the short fiery hair, reassuring the demon nothing he could ever do would hurt him. | d62a42d6cd884373ab1c568baae02fdf | ['40ba86c7750442419e34f6f5b29476c8'] | Aziraphale miracled away their underwear, not bothering with the formalities anymore. Not when he had his demon a blubbering mess on top of him. Crowley whimpered at the sudden freedom, but most importantly at the feeling of Aziraphale against his midriff. The angel slid his hands from Crowley’s back to his hips and sat them both up on the silk sheets. He ran a hand through the red hair he loved so much as he kissed Crowley. His other hand felt the faint bumps of Crowley’s fit stomach, down to his length, which he took eagerly, making the demon cry out in pleasure. The up and down motion was familiar to Aziraphale, who’d always favoured a male-presenting body, and who’d spent nights -this made him blush, as if he wasn’t performing what was the best hand job Crowley had ever received- thinking about this very moment. Crowley didn’t know what to do with himself, his body barely staying up in the sitting position the angel had put him in. He kissed Aziraphale’s neck sloppily, too shaken to do anything else.
The demon went up again, meeting Aziraphale’s lips, letting his tongue do what it did best. The grunt that came from the angel aroused Crowley even more, and he urged them to a horizontal position. He didn’t care about who did what anymore. He just knew he needed Aziraphale, _ now _ .
The blonde understood and the hand he was using to pleasure Crowley lowered, finding the warm spot below. He looked at the yellow eyes to ask permission, and Crowley all but cried out to get a move on. He pushed one finger in, materializing lubricant too. The back and forth motion his hand was making rendered Crowley quiet, his mouth agape in immeasurable pleasure. The sight of him was almost too much for Aziraphale, who peppered his neck in kisses and slid in another finger, barely able to contain himself.
“Angel, if you- _ Ah _ \- don’t go in now I don’t think- _ Ah _ ,” he uttered, his voice lower than usual.
Aziraphale listened, as he was feeling more and more on the edge too, and steadied himself on top of Crowley, as the latter guided him in with his hand, the other playing with the angel’s nipple. When the angel finally slid in, they both cried out, never having felt so powerful before. Their carnal union had made them one, it seemed, and their souls appeared to have fused. Neither knew where one began and the other ended. They rocked back and forth on the bed, holding each other so tight it should have left dark marks on their bodies.
Aziraphale admired Crowley’s body writhing under him, and his hips bucked forward, pushing in even deeper, both of them gasping loudly in pleasure. Crowley was wrapped around the angel, legs straddling his hips and arms slid on the principality’s sides, smoothing circles at the spot Crowley knew was hiding the base of beautiful white wings.
“Oh-Oh, my dear boy _ look at you, _ ” Aziraphale murmured, awed, and they kissed again.
The pace was picking up and Crowley’s tongue slithered around Aziraphale’s, in what seemed to be a mini fireworks show. The angel loved the sensation, the slight tingle it made, and he hummed into the kiss. Crowley shivered at the sound, fingers digging deeper into the angel’s shoulder blades. The touch made Aziraphale buck his hips again, and they cried out together, Crowley on the verge of tears.
Aziraphale couldn’t contain himself and he whispered in the demon’s ear:
“I love you.”
Crowley made a noise between a hiss and a sob and he came on the spot, shivering in the angel’s arms. The angel continued rocking them, biting at Crowley’s ear, uttering praise into it in between waves of pleasure. The demon’s body softened, and he was gripping the angel’s neck with tired arms. One leg still up against the principality’s buttocks, the other sprawled out like only he knew how. His cheeks were tear stained but his eyes were shining as he was looking straight into the periwinkle pool that was Aziraphale’s gaze. He gestured to the angel to slow down as he petted his chest.
“I want to make you feel like you’ve been sent to the stars,” the demon whispered in a wrecked voice.
Aziraphale, still hard, whined at the comment. Crowley lowered his hand, and made the angel understand he needed to pull out. He retreated and Crowley’s hand was instantly replacing the warmth of himself. They shifted on the bed, and the demon lazily sucked on a nipple, his hand circling up and down the length of Aziraphale. He made his way towards his belly button and peppered kisses all over the angel’s stomach. Soon enough, his lips replaced his hand on the tip of the angel’s member. He licked and sucked around, making noises that Aziraphale’s hazed mind could only describe as sinful. Then, oh then- Crowley unhinged his jaw, after all, being a serpent had its advantages, and took all of Aziraphale in his mouth, sucking and humming. Meanwhile, his free hands were tightly holding Aziraphale’s, never letting go. The bob of Crowley’s fiery head was all the principality could see but it was enough to make him cry out the demon’s name over and over. The sensation of wet, serpentine tongue against himself was too much to handle and he could tell he was incredibly close. He let one of Crowley’s hand go, and ran it through the feathery red hair, to warn his beautiful boy. Crowley’s eyes shot up, mouth still all around the angel’s shaft, a delicious look in them. That was what tipped Aziraphale over the edge.
“Crow- _ oh! _ ”
He shot into the demon’s mouth, blushing furiously, head falling backwards, into the mattress. Crowley closed his eyes and swallowed all of it, still sucking away. He didn’t stop until the angel went limp in his mouth, at which point he kissed the tip of Aziraphale’s member. He rested his head against the angel’s soft chest, both panting from the high of their respective orgasms. The blonde put a hand under Crowley’s chin, pulling him close and kissing him chastely. He could taste the saltiness against his lips. The demon had a loopy grin. He lazily cleaned the mess they had made with a simple miracle, leaving them to cuddle. Aziraphale was playing in Crowley’s hair, which made the latter close his eyes in contentment.
“You’re the most beautiful thing that’s happened to me,” Aziraphale uttered.
The yellow eyes flashed open, shining in total adoration.
“I should hope so, I’m downright gorgeousss,” the demon said, grinning.
They both laughed and Crowley squeezed the angel tighter against him. Right here, lying with Aziraphale by his side, he felt as though time had stopped once again, only for them. Maybe there was a reason he’d had to wait for so long. Maybe it was because _ this _ was what awaited him. If Her Ineffable Plan had been leading up to this, Crowley could bear it. He would do it all again in a heartbeat, if it meant seeing that soft smile on the angel’s lips every morning for the rest of eternity. |
104a7db3ffcb460da27fc8f6b81adfb8 | ['40c5d5d8759b45e1b76543f7db30c7ff'] | “yes, fuck, god, fuck me, please!” Honey cried.
Not one to drag things out for too long, Red pushed his cock into Honey, rutting shallowly until they were flush with each other. Honey threw his head back in ecstasy, keening from the feeling of Red entering him. It was like Red was everywhere inside of him, stretching out his cunt to its limit. Red leaned down, bending Honey’s legs closer to his torso as he ran his tongue along his sockets to gather up the loose tears. “ya look so beautiful like this, ya know?” Red drawled, pulling out his dick far enough so that only the head was still inside.
“re-ahhhhh!” Red pushed back in suddenly, setting a comfortable pace as he shoved his dick in deep with each thrust. Breathing was about the extent of what Honey could do as each thrust felt as if it was going to send him straight to heaven. He reached out to loop his arms around Red’s neck, pulling him against him as his pussy clenched around rhythmically, each breath a shuddering moan as he was fucked closer and closer to his orgasm.
“look at ya, so eager for my thick cock,” Red spat with a particularly rough thrust. “yer pussy is tryin’ to gobble me up, it’s so fuckin’ hot. are ya gettin’ close?”
Honey nodded, phalanges tightening around Red’s back as the telltale warm of his oncoming orgasm washed over him. “gah, fu-fuck, red–sans! i’m coming!”
“papyrus, fuck, cum for me!”
Honey screamed as his pussy spasmed, clamping down around Red’s dick as he squirted. His legs dug into Red’s shoulder from the force of the orgasm, lifting him slightly off the seat. Red’s hands tightened on his hips as he began to thrust fast and hard.
“ahh, so-so fuckin’ tight! God–!” He yelled, pulling their pelves together as he unloaded into Honey.
Honey moaned softly as Red slowly extracted his dick, gasping as he felt the liquid exit his body. “oh man, boss is gonna throw a tantrum when he sees this,” Red said, looking down at the seat.
Curious, Honey scooted back a few inches and sat up to look at the mess. The bottom of the seat was covered in their body fluids, red and orange mixing together to pool over the edge and onto the floor. Edge definitely wasn’t going to be getting those stains out of the car anytime soon.
“oops.”
The two of them made eye contact, staring at each other for a second before bursting out into loud laughter.
“holy fuck, they’re gonna kill us! ahaahaha!”
“pffftttttt, blue and edge are never going to let us go out again!”
“best road trip ever!” Red yelled, falling into a giggle pile with Honey.
Later they would regret their decisions, but for now, they would enjoy each other.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thanks for reading! <3 feel free to bother me at my NSFW tumblr: LINK
21. SpicyHoney - "Are you Drunk?" + others
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Married life isn't always easy
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> crysta-cub asked **Challenge! Sending quotes from different sections of the list for one fic. Doesn't have to be done in order and the quote doesnt have to follow the section its under unless you want to enhance the challenge. Anyways the prompts are Edgepuff Or Spicyhoney (i can't choose) with (angst)5, (love)54, (gen)92, and (sexual) 180. Will you rise up to the challenge? (P.s. I always start seeing a story using multiple quotes to all the quotes when I see any of these lists and I love it)** From this LINK
>
> Pairing: Spicyhoney
>
> Tags: arguments, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, also hurt/comfort?, Edge worrying as usual, attempted drunk seduction, They’re married
>
> Prompts used:
> "Are you drunk?"
> "You have no idea what you do to me."
> "Why do you hate me?"
> "I can't stand the thought of losing you."
The rhythmic ticking of the clock echoed through the silent apartment, bouncing off the walls and the tall, imposing figure of Edge. His face was blank as he glanced over at the display, frowning as he read the time. 12:01. Where. Was. He.
He rapped his foot impatiently as he stood in front of the entranceway, arms crossed over his fluffy bunny pajamas as he contemplated putting on his boots and strutting out in the night to look for his husband. It didn’t make any sense; Honey was supposed to be home way before now, at least two hours ago. Even if he had stopped to pick up cigarettes on the way home (which Edge did not condone, but he didn’t want to add it onto the long list of things they often argued about), it shouldn’t have taken him more than an extra half hour with traffic. Could he have gotten hurt? Honey was tough, there was no doubt about that, but he only had one HP! What if he had gotten accidentally punched by an angry human and dusted without Edge knowing? Or what if that idiot tripped into the street and gotten hit by a car? Or what if–
Okay, he couldn’t just sit around anymore, Edge had to go find him. He braced himself against the wall as he slipped one foot into his boot and then the other, trying not to focus on the rapid beating of his SOUL. Deep down, he knew if something truly awful occurred he would instantly know from their soul bond, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if something did happen because he hesitated.
Edge was just straightening up his jacket over his pajamas when the front door opened, revealing a giggling Honey.
“Honey!” Edge shouted, feeling the relief course through his magic. “Where have you been?!”
“here n’ there, don’t worryyyyy about ittt.” Honey shut the door and took a few steps towards Edge, stumbling over his feet and careening towards the ground. | fe0cfa9a871e48a8adc336602b4cbad5 | ['40c5d5d8759b45e1b76543f7db30c7ff'] |
Even a Sleeping Dog is a Better Presidential Candidate than Jerry
**Author's Note:**
> Hello! This piece was made for Neutral Zine, an Undertale Zine about the various neutral routes. This free pdf of this zine was released on the 22nd, and you can find it here: LINK Please consider checking out the rest of the wonderful works created by the other contributors of this zine!
It was chaos. Utter pandemonium.
The king was missing. The news was discovered earlier that morning after a few monsters (who were headed to the castle for mid-morning tea) discovered it empty. There was initial panic, but the monsters had decrees in place, contingency plans that went back decades in the making if something like this happened. The thought had been reassuring...
Until they couldn't find the Captain.
Or the Royal Scientist.
Or Mettaton…
Wait, even that quirky skeleton sentry was gone?!
_✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧_
The monsters gathered in the castle ballroom, the only place that miraculously had enough space to fit everyone, even the larger monsters like Tsunderplane and Onion-San. The consensus was that every single monster who could’ve taken over as ruler in Asgore’s place was gone, disappeared without a trace in the night. Tensions were high as each monster talked over the other, but the same question reigned supreme: What do we do now?
It came as no surprise to the Snowdin residents of the room when a particular bear monster raised their hand to speak, and the room went silent as they made their way to the stage.
The bear monster cleared their throat. “Uh, hi. I’m Politics Bear from Snowdin Town, known to my friends as Bear. I’ve been observing the political atmosphere of the Underground for quite some time now, and I think I might have a way to solve our dilemma here.” They paused for a minute to survey the silent crowd before continuing.
“There’s a type of political system where eligible members of a population decide they want to rule and become candidates. They make their appeal to the rest of the population and tell them why they’re running in an event called a debate. After the debate, we choose a winner. Since we’re all equals here, I think this might be able to work!”
The crowd murmured amongst each other, discussing the bold idea this ‘Bear’ had. It was madness to even begin to entertain the idea; one of them ruling over everyone else? It was unthought of!
And yet…
What else could they do?
One by one the crowd agreed, and soon the whole room was in favor of the idea. It was almost unanimous that Bear would be one of the candidates; they seemed to have the most knowledge of this system, and no one else really wanted to throw their hat in the ring just yet.
“We have a candidate!” “(One of our own!)”
Well, until now.
Bear waved to the monsters who spoke, the dog couple of the Royal Guard. “Dogamy, Dogaressa, are you planning to run as well?”
Dogamy shook his head. “No, we think the most qualified monster to run is Greater Dog! He is the strongest of the Canine Unit!”
Dogaressa nodded, agreeing with her husband. “(He is also the best at receiving pats and affection!)”
Bear shrugged; it seemed like a good enough reason to them. They searched the crowd for the elusive Guard member and swiftly found him in a corner, trying to pounce on a Madjick’s floating orbs. Through the combined effort of several monsters and the promise of high-quality head scratches, they managed to get Greater Dog onto the stage.
“Hey, you guys better put ME in too!” A nasal-like voice echoed off the castle halls, and every monster in the room bristled. That voice...there was only one monster who sounded like that, but it couldn’t be…
Thin, noodly appendages grabbed onto the edge of the stage, and a grunt of effort was heard as the monster attempted to pull its body up. “Hey, can’t someone HELP me? Doesn’t ANYONE care?” When no one made the move to help, it grumbled louder and redoubled its efforts. Sweat poured off its forehead as it finally got a footing on the side, dragging its large, saucer-like body onto the stage with a shout. Shallow breaths left swollen lips as the monster got to its feet, and the room let out a collective sigh at the creature.
Jerry.
“Hey, I’m running too,” Jerry said matter-of-factly. It pulled out a bag of Popato Chisps and shoved a handful into its mouth, smacking loudly as it continued. “It’s not like YOU guys will even have a chance of winning against me, but I'll still allow you to run and all.”
Bear chuckled uneasily. They weren’t a fan of Jerry; no one in Snowdin was a fan of it. But, it wasn’t like they could just boot it off the stage, no matter how much they wanted to. “Well, looks like we have our candidates…” They glanced at Greater Dog, who was chewing on their weapon. “Shall we do the debate?”
Bear decided to allow an hour for each candidate to prepare their pitch for the audience, and in that time the duo from the Hotland division of the Royal Guard brought in podiums and tall chairs from other parts of the castle.
In no time at all the stage was set, each candidate was in place, and the debate was ready to begin. The monster known only as Snowdrake’s father and ‘that one comedian dude’ shuffled over to the mic at the front. |
2ce6f4d5708b477c99af881d16d4376c | ['40c87c988a6f4c5abfed4a534106fb9f'] |
Necessary
**Author's Note:**
> Thanks to CL and sallycandance for the beta help.
When did you first notice?
You remember meeting her for the first time. She stepped out of the alcove, and you were faintly shocked by her appearance: the upright posture giving the illusion of height, the impossibility of such unyielding, aggressive curves, the unequivocal evidence that she was—or had been—human and female. But she was Borg now, and you mostly wondered why they’d chosen her as representative. If they had wanted to distract you, it worked, for you found yourself speculating about her origins, wondering how she’d come to be a Borg drone out here in the Delta Quadrant. “Irrelevant discourse,” she’d called it, but you thought otherwise.
When you woke up later that day, brains still scrambled from the attack on the cube, you only asked the Doctor about Tuvok’s well-being and not that of your Borg representative. And if you wondered about her at all, it was only a fleeting thought. You were more concerned with maintaining the alliance, and you didn’t have many thoughts to spare at that point.
(After the surgeries, you were too furious with Chakotay to think much about her. You did notice, however, how casually he referred to disabling her or abandoning her on some planet. A small thing, but it added fuel to the fire.)
Later, you might have noticed how invested you were in convincing her to embrace her humanity. In retrospect, your visit to the brig was probably unwise. But you were full of adrenaline and an almost desperate hope, and even Ayala’s apprehension could not deter you. It was honestly a relief when she hit you, shattering the incredible tension and along with it one more barrier between the two of you. You remember the shock of cradling her, body still encumbered with bulky implants, mottled skin still cool to the touch. You could have noticed then, but you told yourself you were just helping her through a difficult but necessary transition.
You can picture exactly how she looked as she glimpsed the stable Omega molecule. Its blue glow lit up her face, revealing an openness you’d never thought you’d see. That evening in Maestro da Vinci’s studio, you felt a curious, uneasy rush of power when she turned that same regard toward you. “It seemed to be watching me,” she marveled, face now illuminated by the warm tones of firelight. And for one wild moment, you imagined that she herself were perfection staring back—suddenly crystallizing out of chaos for no discernible reason, and just as likely to destabilize. But you brushed that thought away, and you told yourself you were only thrilled at the progress she was making, what an important step spirituality could be to acceptance of her identity.
You try not to dwell on the time she disobeyed your direct order and sacrificed a member of Species 8472 to the Hirogen. She showed no compassion and no remorse; her actions contradicted everything you were trying to teach her about humanity. But on the rare occasions that you think back to that day, your feelings are surprisingly mixed. Twice she confronted you, eyes flashing with defiance and voice rich with contempt. “I will not comply,” she declared, and you later realized that no one else had challenged you directly in a very, very long time. There was a measure of admiration swirled into your anger: it was a new high in her progress toward individuality, but the nadir for her development as a member of the crew.
Maybe you did notice when the two of you were aboard Arturis’s ship, hurtling toward Borg space. It was such a jarring moment, a little snapshot that you can’t quite forget: _when you try to adjust her cranial implant, she flinches._ You carried on without pause, offering a succinct evaluation of your relationship with her. (You’ve always had the perfect thing to say.) And though you meant every word of that speech, part of you remained discomposed. Assessing the relationship made its constraints conspicuous, and it was harder than ever not to notice how you really felt.
Then again, you probably noticed a long time ago.
You’re not quite sure when you noticed, but when you did it all came rushing in: you could see with perfect clarity what lay behind all of your actions since you’d met her. Sure, you wanted to save her, this lovely, remote woman whose entire life had been stolen by the Collective. But more importantly, you want to keep her with you—and while it stings to recognize the selfishness of your priorities, you can’t lie to yourself anymore.
You want to navigate her contradictions—formidable yet fragile, capable of mass murder but also startling kindness, possessing more knowledge of humanity than any single person yet just learning how to _be_ human—before she can reconcile them, before the seam closes and she no longer needs you. You want to reach out to the one person on board who has plumbed the same depths of loneliness that you have, the only one who might actually feel more alone.
And even though her emotional innocence gives you pause, you can’t help longing to touch her again: to explore with your hands the body you’ve already studied with your gaze, to see those dispassionate eyes dilate with pleasure, to lick into warm skin and cool metal, to feel her clench around your fingers as her moans grow louder and less coherent. You want to break her control, then relinquish your own; you want to get to her _first_ and become irreplaceable. Unforgettable. Necessary.
And that’s why you find yourself here now, for the third or maybe the fourth time, standing outside the cargo bay with a dry mouth and clammy hands. You don’t know how you could broach the topic, what words would make her understand, can’t fathom how she might react.
But you do know exactly what you’ll do next.
So, for the third or fourth time, you draw a shaky hand back from the door, wipe your palms on your uniform, smooth your hair and square your shoulders. And—just as a reminder—you lightly run a fingertip over your pips before walking away. | cf92daf172a2408599ee4e596ded02f0 | ['40c87c988a6f4c5abfed4a534106fb9f'] | Little Problems
**Author's Note:**
> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/thursday100plus/profile)LINK, Little problems challenge. Concept and beta by the stylish and elegant [](http://arlan-bishop.livejournal.com/profile)LINK, who accepted no compensation for the work.
From across the park, Ed pauses to study his new partner. Lupo is rather busy at the moment, and Ed is practically hidden in the shade of the oak tree he’s leaning against. So he can take his time.
Lupo’s tie is askew. Actually, “askew” is an understatement—Ed can see how crooked it is from thirty feet away. It’s practically horizontal. Sometimes he marvels at how unkempt Lupo manages to look all the time. He’s not dirty or stinky—he smells surprisingly good, Ed’s noticed—but he reminds him of that character from Peanuts, the kid who travels in his own dust storm. Pigpen?
As Lupo moves through the dappled sunlight, more flaws are highlighted. He’s taken off his jacket, revealing a shirt that’s coming untucked. And is he getting thicker through the middle? Hard to say under such a wrinkled shirt, but Ed wouldn’t be surprised. Lupo eats crap all the time—not just when the job forces him—and he usually forgets the wrappers, leaving them scattered around the car.
Plus Lupes makes him drive all the time.
His gaze drifts back up. Lupo’s dark hair looks like it’s never seen a comb, and today was one of the days he chose not to shave. Ed will never understand that—does he only shave when he can find a razor? It’s the exact opposite of Ed’s careful grooming, his close-cropped hair and perfectly symmetrical beard.
His breath catches, though, when he remembers how that beard felt last night, its rough scrape contrasting with the softness of Lupo’s lips as he’d backed Ed against the wall. He’d reached under his freshly laundered shirt with large, warm hands, doubtlessly undoing its recent ironing. By that point, Ed had been too distracted to care about wrinkles.
Shaking his head in amusement, Ed realizes that he recognizes this pattern. He always does this when he gets involved with someone: he starts looking for any little problem that might make him less eager, less enthusiastic. It must be some form of sabotage, he figures, or maybe self-protection. Better to be wary now than blindsided and heartbroken later, right?
At present, Lupo has a lot of _other_ little problems to deal with. Maybe kindergarteners aren’t fully self-indivuated yet, because Lupo’s attempts to question one have resulted in twenty kids swarming him, jumping and yelling excitedly. One little girl is trying to climb him like a tree. Chuckling softly, Ed pushes off the oak and heads over to help. |
913cdeb34f9e4d5a97b7c4960f4bf7a0 | ['40d146aa865040a8b77adb0245f0901b'] |
Accidents
**Author's Note:**
> First AO3 post :) Hopefully it's to your liking!
"Alright, Blaine! Have a nice weekend. I’ll see you Monday!" Kurt said, pecking Blaine’s cheek. The other boy smiled at his boyfriend, who was trying to carry three overstuffed bags out of their small dorm room.
"Are you sure you don’t need any help?" Blaine asked with a chuckle. Kurt just huffed in response, before he set the bags down outside the door, waved to Blaine and slammed the door shut.
Blaine ran over to the window, and stared at the dorm hall entrance, waiting for Kurt to come out. Now, he wasn’t overly protective of Kurt, he just wanted to make sure that he made it to his car safely. Blaine did this every time Kurt left for the weekend. Although, this time, he had a bit of a different motive.
The moment Blaine saw Kurt’s skinny jean clad legs slip into the car (those jeans definitely did things for Kurt’s…. assets), he shut the blinds, and scrambled to lock the door.
Blaine and Kurt had done more than just kissing. They’d progressed to making out, which wasn’t as much as Blaine had hoped for, but he wasn’t pushing it with Kurt’s history. The fact that Kurt was going away this weekend for the first time since they had gotten together allowed him the perfect amount of time to release some of his pent up sexual frustration.
He took two calming breaths before, he stripped himself and laid down on his bed. Blaine reached over into his bedside drawer and took out a small bottle of lube and his favorite toy. His vibrator. While he doesn’t necessarily masturbate a lot, the vibrator helps out… a lot, when he’s in one of these moods.
Taking the small bottle of lube, which he noted was almost empty, he squirted some on to his fingers shivering either from the cold or the anticipation. While rubbing them together slightly in an effort to warm the lube, he hiked his leg up as far as he could, which stretching the other out as far as possible. He felt so open…. so vulnerable. It turned him on.
One hand grazed a rapidly hardening nipped, while the other lubed hand slid down to tease his opening. He gasped as his finger lightly traced the outline of his puckered hole. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger in, pushing past the tight ring of muscle into the hot heat of his ass. Blaine reached down and pulled lightly at his cock, as he worked the finger inside of himself. A few seconds later, he added a second finger, itching for the burn.
He gasped as his two fingers worked their way inside of him, scissoring his tight hole open. He tugged his dick more, rubbing his thumb over the head. His mouth was watering slightly at the thought of having his vibrator buried deep inside of him. The only thing that would feel better would be Kurt sliding his cock in. The thought of Kurt fucking into him made him whine and begin to push a third finger in.
He grunted through the slight burn he felt at three fingers stretching him out. Soon enough, he was moaning out nonsensical words as he grinded down onto his hand trying to create some form of friction. When Blaine couldn’t take any more, he slid his fingers out, whimpering slightly, before he turned over onto his elbows and knees.
He blindly reached over to grab his phallic shaped vibrator, before slathering it in whatever lube was leftover in the bottle.
Blaine slowly twisted it into his hole, gasping and moaning. He pushed his face down into the pillow as his vibrator bottomed out. He thrusted it in and out shallowly before twisting the end to start the vibrations. Blaine let out a low guttural moan at the feel of the vibrator thrusting into his ass and the vibrations that coursed through his body.
But, Blaine couldn’t hear the sound of the door creaking open over the vibrations. Kurt stood in the doorway, shocked at seeing his boyfriend bent over, ass jutting out, fucking himself with a toy. He was nowhere near ready to go all the way with Blaine, but he felt like he could help out a little.
Blaine didn’t hear him coming until he felt an extra hand fisting his dangling cock. His eyes widened, as he turned his head and looked up at Kurt.
"Oh my— god, Kurt, I’m so sorry." Blaine stuttered out, a blush filling his cheeks.
"I just came by because I left my bag of hair and face products, but I came and saw this instead," Kurt choked out, slightly embarrassed by what he was saying. "Turn over, I want to help you out."
Blaine felt his mouth drop open, before nodding hastily and complying. He turned over, vibrator still at half speed, and spread his legs.
Kurt’s mouth went dry, before he positioned himself between his boyfriend’s legs and kissed him passionately. The slide of their tongues against each other, and Blaine’s erection poking his stomach snapped him back to attention. Kurt removed his hand from the other boy’s cock and started to fuck Blaine with the vibrator.
The smaller boy moaned out loud, and ground his hips down against the toy. Kurt smiled lightly, before turning up the power.
"Oh, fuck. K-K-Kurt, please, more," Blaine managed to whine out, as he reached over to pump his dick in time to the thrusts. His hand became more erratic the faster Kurt slid the vibrator into Blaine.
"Shit, right there, baby, oh god, I’m-I-I’m gonna come," Blaine whimpered, tugging and pulling his dick as hard as he could to try and chase the pleasure. | f88b00758e8a41d49df3a4e2f326b544 | ['40d146aa865040a8b77adb0245f0901b'] |
...And Out Come The Wolves
**Author's Note:**
> New fic, new URL, it's gonna be a good year guys :) Hope you like this Punk!Klaine AU. It's WIP and I'll be updating hopefully once a week. It's my first MC so go easy on me please, haha! Anyways, on with the fic! CROSSPOSTED ON TUMBLR
The shop was slow today. Not many people wanted to stop by in a tiny record and music instrument store when two blocks down CBGB’s was supposed to have the hottest punk band from New Jersey playing later that night. Luckily, it was only about thirty minutes until Kurt’s shift was over, which gave him just enough time to close the shop, change out of his bland uniform and meet up with his friends over at CBGB’s. He may hate the fact that the band is taking away paying customers, but he can’t resist a good punk band.
Kurt paced around the store for a few minutes, perusing the shelves to find a good record. By the end of his walk, he had picked up two LPs, unsure of which one to play over the store’s PA system. While he loved this particular Dead Kennedy’s record, he hadn’t listened to the other LP in a while. He hesitantly set the Dead Kennedy’s record pack, and strode back to his counter at the front of the store.
Just as he was lowering the needle onto the Rancid record, the bell connected to the door rang, alerting him to a new customer. He jumped slightly, not expecting anyone this close to closing.
“Hey, welcome to Hummel’s Records and Instruments. Let me know if I can help you out with anything,” he said mechanically, before leaning back in his seat and toying with his lip piercing. He never really paid much attention to the customers unless they needed something. The shop only had a few regulars, and he was sure this person wasn’t one of them.
“Hey, man. Where do you keep your cables? I’ve got a gig in like an hour, and there are no fucking cables that aren’t busted in our gear case,” the man said.
“They’re in the back; I’ll show you,” Kurt said, dusting off his hands. He stroked a hand through his messily dyed hair and pushed himself off his seat. While he was coming around to the front of the counter, he stole a glance at the man he was helping out.
Fuck. He was beautiful. His hair was lightly curled, and had streaks of electric blue scattered throughout. His eyebrow was pierced, along with his nose, and both of his ears. His neck sported a scorpion tattoo, and he had cuffs and bracelets decorating his arms.
"See something you like," the gorgeous man smirked, snapping Kurt out of his thoughts.
"Umm, n-no. Uh, what kind of cable are you looking for? Do you need something to plug into a PA, or is this just for some amps?" Kurt stuttered, a blush tinting his cheeks. God. When was the last time a boy made him feel like this? It was normally just a string of one-night stands that served to make him feel good for a couple hours, but made him feel shitty the next day.
"Mic cables. Too bad you don’t see anything you like," he said pressing closer. His scent gently wafted into Kurt’s nose and consumed him. It made him dizzy, something he wasn’t used to. "How about you close shop early and we have a little fun?" the man proposed, his eyes burning into Kurt’s.
"I don’t even know your name," Kurt protested, but still leaning closer into the other boy’s body. His body shivered as he felt a pair of lips press next to his ear.
"Blaine," he whispered, gently licking the shell of Kurt’s ear. "Now go close up shop. I wanna fuck you over that desk." Kurt tensed up slightly, a shock of pleasure quivering through his body. It felt like he was physically unable to say no, so he nodded.
He sprinted to the front of the store and was about to turn the sign over to closed when he saw his friends approaching. Seeing them reminded him that it was, in fact, closing time, and that there was no way he could have sex with that gorgeous, attractive, mysterious stranger back there, no matter how much he wanted to. He leaned his head on the glass door to help cool himself down a little bit before he headed back. He locked the door, and then turned around.
“So, babe, are you ready for me to rock your world?” Blaine asked, cocking his eyebrow. He looked so adorable... and so handsome. What was he going to do again? Whatever it was could surely wait until after this hookup. Wait. Fuck. He can’t hook up. Friends. Right.
“S-Sorry, I can’t... I’d appreciate if you’d pick out your cable, pay me, and then leave,” Kurt said resolutely. He felt a drop of sweat drip down his temple towards his chin. Did it get hotter in here?
“I don’t need a cable, babe. Just saw your sweet ass walking around out here and thought I’d drop in. Just needed an excuse. See you around Sweetcheeks,” Blaine said with a wink, before heading towards the door. On his way out he quickly pinched Kurt’s ass, before sprinting out the door.
“Fuck, he was hot,” Kurt murmured, before he shook his head, and grabbed the clipboard sitting on the shelf to do inventory. He slowly crawled through the store, taking note of what albums he needed to reorder. He sighed when he checked the instruments and saw that a Shecter needed to be restrung. It was probably those damn kids who never stopped listening to heavy metal.
By the time he made it to the cables in the back, he sighed. He hadn’t sold any since Blaine ran off in the middle of the sale. Regardless, he decided to double check that everything was there.
No. That couldn’t be right. No, no, no, this isn’t happening. His dad was going to kill him. The damn bastard took off with two of his most expensive cables. All because Kurt got distracted by his devilishly good looks.
Sighing, Kurt looked at the price tag for the cables that were lifted. He wasn’t about to have his dad get mad at him for not paying attention during his shift. He closed his eyes, sure of the fact he was going to be cringing at the price. He slowly opened one eye, and immediately closed it while groaning.
“Fifty fucking dollars? I’m not going to have any money for drinks tonight,” he sighed. He’d just have to hope he turned the charm on enough for someone to buy him drinks. After this evening, he needed to be hammered.
This evening was turning out to be such a fucking trainwreck. |
203f2114d21346fea7ddf407f6d55f29 | ['40e6b89b98ae4dc6bb6f664c5299378c'] |
And Live Your Life
Jake was sitting on his make-shift bed in the annex, holding a tiny heart locket in his hands. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. A while he could guess. Never in all his years did he think he'd be in this kind of situation. This was the stuff of romance novels and chick flicks. But, nevertheless, here he was.
Yesterday kept playing over and over in his mind. He'd been trying to kind a magical cure for Cassandra. Behind her back. After he first run in with the Serpent Brotherhood she never really wanted to talk about a magical cure. Especially not to him. But it was a good idea.
So, almost a year later, he'd found himself deep in The Library going through a ridiculous amount of old scrolls. It took him a minute to realize it because he'd been so engrossed, but suddenly everything was a gray color. Scared the hell outta him a good minute. But then he heard a little chuckle behind him.
“About time you noticed.” a female voice came from behind him.
He knew that voice! Spinning around, Jake came face to face with Morgan le Fay. She still looked exactly like she had the last time her saw her. Same dress and everything. Which was kinda weird when he thought about it now.
Jake was so shocked he didn't know whether to run for help or what. No one was there and calling would take to long. So he finally managed to croak out a, “What are you doing here?”
“Hmm, you are bright aren't you. No wonder she likes you.” Morgan started circling around him like a lion would it's prey.
“Doesn't answer the question, lady.” The circling was making him real nervous but he knew he couldn't out run her.
“Ah, you don't even ask you likes you. I guess you already know, huh?” She smirked at him. “Alright, alright. I have come to offer you what you seek.”
“What-what I seek? Why? How!?....” Jake stopped turning. Was she here for what he thought? She couldn't be. That would be....weird. “What do mean, what I seek?”
“Was that to much for you or something? What are you sitting in this library at 3am for?! What have you look for, for a year! What have you really wanted for the last year?” Morgan stopped and put her hand on her hips. “I'm here to give you a cure.”
Jake couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't fathom why she would even do that for Cassandra. For him. “Why would you even bother. You left us all for dead last time we saw you.”
“Yes, but that little red head was just so adorable. Reminded me of a younger me, I guess. Happier. But, of course there is a price for things like this.”
“Of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch. You can't just do a nice thing for someone?” Jake yelled at her. He hadn't meant to. But he knew that catch would be something that would make Cassandra regret being saved for the rest of her life.
Now, sitting on his bed this morning he realized that even if Cassandra hated it, hated him, he didn't care. He just wanted her alive and happy. She deserved so much more happiness than what she was given.
So he pulled out his phone and text her to meet him in The Library. At their favorite corner where she'd read Steven Hawking books and he'd read old art books. Where they'd had dinner together. And tea. And fell asleep together. Their corner.
Xoxoxox
Jake was pacing. He couldn't stop. He'd rehearsed what he was going to say a million times at this point. This was by far the scariest thing he'd ever done in his life. But he knew it was worth it. She was worth it.
When Cassandra turned into their corner she beamed at him. She always did that. Always looked like seeing him was the happiest part of her day. And she did it for everyone. That was his favorite part. She made everyone feel special.
“Hey Jake! What's up?” She chirped at him.
“Si-sit down. There's something I was say.” Jake sat on the sofa and pulled her down next to him. He couldn't get himself to let go of her hand. He wanted to be able to touch her right now.
“I um, I know that you're not going to like this. But my minds already made up ok?” Jake looked into her beautiful blue eyes and his voice caught for a second. All he could think was how beautiful she looked. And he'd never told her.
“I just-I just need to tell you that ou are the most amazing, talented, smart, beautiful, wonder person I have ever met in my life. And you deserve so much. So many amazing things. And I want to give them to you. I love you Cassandra Cillian.” Jake never thought he'd being saying something like that to anyone, ever. But, this was a romance novel situation.
Cassandra just sat there with the biggest shocked look on her face possible. “Darlin', sayin something....”
She didn't say anything. Instead she leaned in and gave him a kiss. The most perfect kiss he'd ever had. Somehow, it just fit her. He tasted sunshine and honey. And, dear god, he never wanted it to stop. Putting his hands on either side of her waist, he pulled her to straddle him.
He deepen their kiss and moved his hands to her face, as she balled her hands in his shirt and tucked her feet behind his knees. At that point he knew he could die with his life complete.
Slowly, he pulled her face away from his. She made a noise of utter dissatisfaction that made he smile. 'I found a cure for you.” | ec37b9761f5b45d29aae3be7b0b6c042 | ['40e6b89b98ae4dc6bb6f664c5299378c'] |
And Realizing Your In Love
“Now my necklace is missing!” Cassandra wailed. “Why do my things keeps disappearing? Is there a ghost here we don't know about?!”
Cassandra was looking through all the papers and books on the table. Ezekiel and Jake were pushed out of the way in her attempt to find the missing necklace. They knew it was very important to her. They both had bought it for her right after they had started dating.
“Hey, I've had things go missing too. My watch disappeared last week. Maybe there is a ghost...” Jake started looking around the room as if one would pop out at him.
Ezekiel had had a few things go missing to over the last few months. It had started bothering him so he started keeping track of where they went and who was there. Every week they went to the same little coffee shop as a date day type of thing. To relax and just be with each other.
There was only one person who was always there on the same day and time as them every week. He had closely watch the guy today. The man had ran into Cassie's chair and Ezekiel immediately knew it was him.
Zeke had made some excuse to split from Jake and Cassie when they left, and he followed the man. He couldn't possible let this guy take their things. And definitely not take Cassie's necklace.
After he knew where the guy lived he went back to The Library and had found Cassandra making a disaster as she tried to find her missing necklace. Ezekiel decided against telling them. He knew it'd be easier to handle by himself. So he had helped look for the necklace. And helped Jake console her when she didn't find it.
At about ten that night, after Jake and Cassie had passed out, he crawled out of their bed and made his way to the guys apartment. He picked the lock and quietly made his way inside. The man wasn't super well off, but he was doing well enough that he definitely didn't need to be stealing things.
The man was in his bedroom asleep so Ezekiel went around the place looking for their things. He couldn't find anything in the living room though, so he went to plan B. Ezekiel went to the mans room and slowly went to his side table and grabbed the guys cell phone. Then went to the doorway and flipped on the light.
Immediately the man shot up in bed. He saw Ezekiel stand there and made a little scream then reached for his cell. When he didn't find it he turned to see Ezekiel tossing it up and down.
“Wh-what do you want?” The man looked utterly terrified. Which was exactly what Ezekiel wanted.
“I want my things back. Mine AND my partners.” Ezekiel attempted to give the man the scariest look he had.
“Oh....you're the guy from the cafe? You and the red hair and the brute always go there.” The man swung back the covers and stood up.”Well maybe you should pay more attention. And you should get the hell out of my apartment.”
The guy stormed over the Ezekiel with every intent to either drag him to the door, or beat the crap out of him. But what the man didn't know was that that “brute” had taught him some good moves. And the red head had taught him force ratios.
As the man reached out to grab him, Ezekiel slammed his fist into the mans wrist. He screamed out in pain and hit the ground.
“Did you know that takes 8 pound of pressure per inch? The red head taught me that. The brute taught me this.” Ezekiel whipped around the man and put him in a choke hold.
“Now, I'm a thief myself. But I don't appreciate people stealing from people I care about. Maybe if you'd kept to small, unimportant things, I wouldn't have cared as much. Just decided to go to another place. But see, that necklace you took today. That was a present. That meant a lot to her. In fact, I helped buy that for her. So, I'm going to need to you give it back. Along with the other things you took. I know you still have them so don't bother lying.”
“Ok!”, the man croaked out. Ezekiel slowly let him out of the choke hold.
He went around to his closet and pulled down a box from the top shelf. “This is everything. I'm sorry...just...I didn't mean anything by it. Please just...don't call the cops or anything.”
“If I was gonna call the cops I would've done it BEFORE I assaulted you. Idiot.” Ezekiel snatched the box away from the guy and headed toward the door.
“You must really love them.” The man said with a smile on his face.
Ezekiel just looked at the man and then left. As he walked back to The Library he started thinking about what the guy had said. He'd never really been in love with anyone. Even in past relationships he had never said 'I love you' to anyone. In fact, it'd be brought up by a couple of his ex's. Which usually lead to a break up.
But, he'd never been this open with anyone before. When you're a thief for a living there's always the possibility of getting caught or having to leave in in instant. Or having them find out and leave him.So he'd never bothered to get close to people.
With Jake and Cassandra though, they knew everything about him. And still cared about him. Still wanted to be with him in fact. They loved his abilities and just excepted them as part of him.
When he got back to The Library he went up to the room the three of them shared. Jake and Cassandra were up and sitting up the bed. They looked very panicked. |
8dab5335c37a41f7947153d36ded94e2 | ['40ebc8a3106140d5bec862d2117c4a48'] |
Wishful
**Author's Note:**
> This work was previously posted on my Tumblr - oldparchmentandcoffee.
> I am currently working through some things and was contemplating leaving Tumblr. I felt I needed to move this work here in case I did.
> This work was the first one-shot I published that wasn't specifically for my best friend, so, sorry.
“There’s no sad story here, people. Just one mean man with a grudge,” Garcia said over the phone to the team. “I’m sending you his address now.”
“Thank you, baby girl. We’ll keep you informed,” Morgan said as he hung up the phone. The whole team was quick to get in their respected SUVs to go take down the sadistic killer they had been tracking down over the past four days. The whole team was ready to go home and get some much-needed rest and to see their families. As the team got into the SUVs, Y/N was sure to get in the same one as Hotchner, their boss/ lover. The two had been dating, technically in secret, for several months and things were just starting to get serious. They were pretty sure the entire team already knew though. They were profilers after all, and they were damn good at their jobs.
Y/N looked over to Hotch as he started the vehicle and turned on the sirens, heading in the direction of the unsubs home. The man had been killing in a rather horrific manner, crossing gender and racial lines, making it much harder to find him. The team had been working nonstop to catch the guy and now that he was in their grasp there was no way the team would let him slip out. Y/N and Hotch gave each other a brief nod as if agreeing to this unspoken truth. The unsub was dangerous, so they planned to use extreme caution, although that didn’t mean they would all come out unscathed. “What’s the plan?” They asked, just to confirm it to themselves once more.
“When we get there I want to stay close together. It’s not a lot of land, but if we spread out we will only be easier targets for him. Stick close and let SWAT advance first,” Aaron explained, making a left turn which leads them down a dirt path to the unsubs house. The SWAT truck took the lead, coming to a stop at the end of the road. SWAT filed out, reminding Y/N of a clown car where they never stopped coming out.
“Stick together!” Hotch called out to the team as they all got out with their guns in front of them, aiming directly at the house. Y/N was set on the door as their eyes scanned for any movement, but the sun was starting to set, making it harder to see for the agent. The flashlight on their fun wasn’t much assistance at a distance so they had to rely on hearing as they followed the SWAT team to the door.
“Alan Krockmen, FBI! Open the door!” Hotch yelled as they approached the front door, only to be taking a swan dive to the right a few seconds later when shots were fired from a window towards the group of agents. The rest of the team found quick shields for their bodies, all of them checking to make sure everyone was alright while they fired back.
In a moment of brave stupidity, Y/N moved away from the hay bale they had been behind to go and check on Hotch. He had seemed to have found a place to shield himself but he looked worse for wear. Y/N was pretty certain he had been shot though, and they wanted to help him. It was in their nature. So, in that brave moment of stupidity Y/N was running across the lawn, only to be caught by gunfire from the unsub. It took less than a second for them to hit the ground, and the last thing they heard was Aaron screaming their name.
After several hours of waiting, Aaron was starting to get restless. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already restless, but not knowing how Y/N was doing was making him on edge. The entire team was sitting in the waiting room, Penelope included. They had arrested the unsub and now they were just waiting. They hadn’t received any news on Y/N condition since the doctors took them into surgery. As far as he knew, they could be dead. He was sure the doctors would come and tell him that, though, so that gave him some relief.
“Aaron Hotchner?” A doctor asked, coming into the waiting room. The entire BAU looked up to the doctor as Hotch stood to his feet to await what the doctor had to say. “They are very lucky. The bullet missed their heart by a mere five millimeters. You are welcome to see them now if you like. We recommend only two at a time though.” The doctor said, shaking Hotch’s hand before he walked off.
“Hotch, you go on. We’ll wait. I’m sure you would like to see them alone.” Morgan said, giving a brief smile to the worried man. Rossi gave a nod in agreement before saying, “I think we all need a bit of rest anyways. We’ll see you back at the hotel.”
Everyone else stood up and asked Hotch to give Y/N their get well soon wishes. Aaron soon found himself wandering down the hall to the room the nurses' station had told him Y/N was in. Once he found the room he took a seat next to the bed, looking at the person he loved. Y/N looked peaceful, despite a few bruises that occurred when they hit the ground. They had a bandage wrapped around their chest, some blood seeping through. It seemed the doctors were able to stop a majority of the bleeding though.
“I know why you did it. I’m fine, just so you know.” Hotch said, reaching out to take Y/N’s hand that was laying on the bed. The doctors weren’t entirely sure when they would wake up, but Hotch was sure it would be any minute now. Y/N was a fighter. It wasn’t the first time they had been in a hospital bed, and working for the FBI meant that it surely wouldn’t be the last.
“I’m sorry,” came a hoarse whisper in response. Y/N was awake, and Hotch wasn’t in the least surprised. They always had great timing. They gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know they had no plans to leave him any time soon. “I only wanted to make sure you were okay. I was more worried about you then putting myself into danger.”
Hotch’s lip twitched into a slight smile at the reason, mainly because he knew he would have done the exact same for them. “I just wish you weren’t hurt. You should be safe.”
“In this job, it is practically impossible. Even if I wasn’t shot, it doesn’t mean I would come out unscathed. This job changes you. Everyone gets hurt in this job.”
“I guess it’s just some wishful thinking then,” Hotch said to them, smiling up at them. He rarely ever smiled, but Y/N could always get his lips to curl upwards.
“Yeah. Just wishful thinking.” | 944d88a9ac864a01bbaf0f9260a43c79 | ['40ebc8a3106140d5bec862d2117c4a48'] | Ask Her Out
**Author's Note:**
> I wrote this forever ago and forgot about it until I went through the notes on my phone. I briefly thought about adding more to it, maybe even making it a story but I decided to leave it as a Drabble and if I decide to come back to it later on then great.
The coffee shop was buzzing with life, everyone moving about and getting coffee. The baristas were skilled, keeping up with each order, having only messed up once since Eddie had started watching. The owners of the coffee shop were even present and making coffee or taking orders. It was a scene that Eddie had only seen once before, but was incredibly mesmerizing to watch. However, he wasn’t watching the entire scene. He was watching one of the owners. A young lady, who was making coffee for a group of high school girls. She was beautiful. Eddie had been watching her for a while, having worked out when she would come in to work. He had a mild crush on her, and knew her fairly well, but he had yet to ask her out, and after the whole Venom thing, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to.
**Ask her out.**
“No. She wouldn’t want me.” Eddie whispered to himself, keeping his face partially hidden so no one would think he was talking to himself, even though he technically was.
**I’ll ask her out. **
“Oh no you won’t-“
**She’s cute. I like her. **
“Yeah, she’s cute, but-“
**I wish to mate with her.**
If coffee had been in Eddie’s mouth he would have spit it out. “You _what_?”
**I wish to mate with her. **
“How? What? No. Why do you want to mate with her?”
**She has... nice skin.**
“Nice skin? She isn’t Hermione Granger.” Eddie said, putting his face in his hands as a groan escaped him. “She wouldn’t go for this. I can’t even imagine her being cool dating a journalist and a parasite.”
**Parasite? ** Venom growled out, causing Eddie to groan again.
“I told you, it was a term of endearment. You’re my symbiote.”
Venom growled again but said nothing else. Eddie had a point. Anne knew about the symbiote in as about as much depth as Eddie did. If he dated again, he would have to explain everything again and the thought of someone running from him because of his companion hurt both Eddie and Venom, though neither would admit it, but they both knew it. |
56e329b9d7294d729309eba1fdbb8ff6 | ['40f417465a404372bebfe05c32ae84f6'] | Every Night, In My Dreams
Jimin wakes abruptly and he looks around, dazed from his slumber. He’s sat at his window, sheer curtains letting in the blinding light; a full glass of water sits on the table opposite him. Curling in on himself, Jimin closes his eyes, the sun warming his back.
He remembers falling asleep but his dream seems like a distant memory; only being able to recall a few moments, the whole ordeal hazy. Jimin remembers reaching forward for something but then falling and falling and falling, into nothingness and when he had opened his eyes he seemed to be floating in between all the stars.
_“You know.”_
_“I know.”_
When Jimin wakes again, he is in bed, the yellow covers the only colour in the mute room. Staring up at the open ceiling he tries to recall the dream he had just had. Again, it is hazy, he can’t place what it had been about. He remembers being blocked by something, someone. He remembers cheeks dusted with stars, molten silver hair and eyes made from the galaxy.
_“The universe has moved for us.”_
Jimin swaddles himself in the yellow blanket; this time the dream isn’t hazy and he remembers it. He sits alone, in a room overlooking an ocean, sheer yellow curtains fluttering in the breeze. The floor he sits on is a hard and the wall on his back cold.
Then, the curtains are in his face and when he manages to move them, he is sat on a plank in the vast space, stars surrounding him and he looks up in awe. A telescope sits next to him, the curtains pooled at his waist. He remembers grey hair looking blue in the starlight.
_“You’re my penicillium.”_
This time, in Jimin’s dream, he stands alone on the plank, staring up at the moon, the stars still surrounding him; he turns to look behind him but there is no one there and suddenly Jimin feels himself falling back, the stars shooting upwards as he does so. He reaches out, reaching for anything, for something, for someone. But there is no one there.
Curtains begin flutter wildly as he falls; the glass of water on his table begins to shake and spill; the tide begins to pull in and Jimin keeps falling. He feels like he’s being watched as he falls through the stars, arms outstretched, still waiting for someone, however, he seems to just stop, and he floats there. Alone.
Instantly, Jimin is awake, he’s sat in a white room on a white chair, his yellow blanket on the floor beside him. The sun’s rays blind him up as he sits there, staring into nothing, and almost instantaneously, Jimin remembers his dreams.
Opposite him, sits a person. Hair a molten silver, eyes made from the galaxy and cheeks dusted with stars. Gasping, Jimin runs towards the person, but they disappear into oblivion and Jimin is left alone in the room.
“Yoongi.” Jimin’s breath hitches as he sees him. The room they are in is dim, the lighting grey.
“Jimin.” Yoongi replies back, a smile on his lips. Jimin lets out a soft tinkling giggle, embarrassed and elated.
_“Since the creation of the universe, everything was destined.”_
They hold hands above the table standing between them and the world begins to shake. Jimin stares into Yoongi’s eyes and he smiles, plush lips curling upwards.
_“Thank you.”_
**Author's Note:**
> Ah, uhm, so this was for an english homework and the prompt was "They've never met outside of a dream, but they are in love. One is the Moon and one the Sun" and immediately i thought of yoonmin. So, i hope you liked it even though this hardly has a plot lmao. But yeah, leave kudos and comments, they're much loved! | 499f4d54437b49018170d1a933abc727 | ['40f417465a404372bebfe05c32ae84f6'] |
Don't Worry, My Love, We're Learning To Love (But It's Hard When You're Young)
**Author's Note:**
> this was inspired by the chainsmokers' song, young. i felt like it rlly git taekook fsr, is it just me?
> listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fS7OffmLrf0
> also, please read the crossed out part of the story, i crossed it out for a reason; it was to symbolise them getting rid of the bad memories
Jungkook smiled, as he watched a sleeping Taehyung. His boyfriend of many years had his leg tangled with Jungkook's; his hands folded under his head and his breath soft, as he snored. Smiling to himself, Jungkook wrapped his arms around Taehyung and snuggled in, going back to sleep.
_"Yah, Jungkook!" Screeched 15 year old Taehyung as he chased Jungkook around the school field. Jungkook sniggered and ran even faster, hands clutching the photo tightly to his chest. "I swear to God, come back here, you big meanie!"_
_"Tae, you'll beat me if I come to you." Jeonkook snorted._
_"Then you shouldn't have asked my mum for that picture!" Taehyung was getting out of breath, running after Jungkook was tiring but he needed to get that picture before the brat did something stupid with it._
_Eventually, Taehyung stopped running after Jungkook and he sat down on the grass with a petulant pout on his face, sulking. Jungkook stopped too, wondering why Taehyung wasn't coming after him. He stood around Taehyung, trying to provoke him into chasing him again, but when Taehyung made no move to acknowledge his presence, he sat down, trying to vie for Tehyung's attention - he wasn't going to get it._
_"I'm sorry Tae, please don't be mad." Jungkook pursed his lips, lying down on Taehyung's lap._
_"Hmmph." Taehyung turned his head away, nose in the air._
_"Tae!" Jungkook whined._
_One second, Jungkook was whining, the next he was shrieking and writhing in the grass from Taehyung tickling him._
_"No!" He howled, "Tae! Stop! No!" Jungkook wheezed as he tried to get out of Taehyung's grasp._
_"Tae, I'm sorry! Oh my god! Stop!" Jungkook wailed, tears of laughter in his eyes._
_"Okay fine, but I'm still annoyed at you." Taehyung relented._
_"Aw, Tae-boo don't be mad." Jungkook said cheekily, as the school bell and he got up to run, Taehyung hot on his heels once more._
"Kookie," Taehyung mumured, shaking his boyfriend up. He giggled as Jungkook mumbled incoherently and nuzzled Taehyung's stomach.
"You're going to be late for work."
"Five more minutes," Jungkook grumbled.
_At the age of 20, Taehyung was happy. Not many people could say that, they were stressed about work and university and life, but not Taehyung. At the age of 20, he was completely content with life. Well, almost._
_Taehyung and Jungkook had been dating for two years and you'd think that maybe Taehyung's parents knew about his sexual orientation, but they didn't. He was afraid of what they would say. Taehyung had seen the way his father had scorned the lesbian couple that had walked past their house, holding hands. Had seen his mother avoid a transgender man on the underground, for having done their makeup like a queen. So, his fright was valid._
_At the moment, however, Taehyung was living peacefully, his parents hadn't found out about his sexual orientation and he hoped it would stay that way for a bit longer until he was confident enough to tell them. But all good things come to an end, they say and Taehyung's good thing came to an end a few days after New Year's Day._
_You see, that night, Taehyung couldn't sleep, so he had texted his boyfriend about his misery. Jungkook had laughed but what Taehyung hadn't expected was Jungkook to come running ten minutes later, throwing rocks at his window._
_Surprised, Taehyung opened his window, almost getting hit by a rock, "Jungkook? What are you doing?"_
_"You said you couldn't sleep, so I came here to see you." Taehyung blushed and giggled at his words._
_"Aww you're so cute, hyungie! I love you!" He squealed._
_"Oh, be quiet. But I love you too." Jungkook grumbled, blushing but thankfully Taehyung couldn't see it in the dark of the night._
_J ~~ust as Taehyung opened his mouth to say something, the back door opened and Taehyung's father appeared, face angry and beet red. Gulping, Taehyung watched as his father screamed at Jungkook, calling him a disgusting waste of space on the Earth and a faggot. He pushed Jungkook, cussing at him and all the boy could do was let the man beat him as he glared at him with anger hardened eyes. All Taehyung could do was look out the window in horror and fright as his boyfriend got beat up by his father.~~_
~~_"You fag! You turned my son gay, you piece of shit!" Taehyung's father yelled, kicking the poor boy._ ~~
~~_"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't turn your son gay, you can't turn people gay. We love each other that's why we're together!" Jungkook yelled, lip split and bloodied; arms bruised. Taehyung almost cried at Jungkook's words but he knew he had to be strong._ ~~
~~_Yet, when dawn broke, Taehyung knew that he couldn't be strong. He'd break down; it was what he did when he saw his father; the rage was etched on his face._ ~~
~~_"You're going to stop seeing this Jungkook boy and you're going to be grounded. You can't leave this house without supervision!" He yelled and Taehyung heard his heart crack._ ~~
~~_Seething and unable to control his anger, he pounced on his father, "Fuck you. You don't get to dictate my life, it's not yours, it's mine, so fuck off. And if you can't deal with a gay son, then you don't need to deal with a son at all."_ ~~ |
ed671afe67cf4b62bf51ac894851fdc5 | ['41017af4c0114464a7ded7862691dc34'] | They talked about trivial things for the remainder of the day cycle. Upon reaching the beginning of the night cycle, they all retired to their respective quarters- except for Drax, who was still unconscious in the communal area. Peter and his crew’s sleeping quarters were in one part of the ship and Veritas and her crew were in a separate part, so when Veritas escorted him to his room aboard the surprisingly spacious craft, Peter was thoroughly confused. It was even weirder when she tucked him into bed, it reminded him of his mother and that wasn’t necessarily a wanted memory at that point.
“I know you have a great many questions,” Veritas began. “And I promise I have a great many answers, but here and now is not the time and place for such a revealing conversation.”
“Can you at least explain why you tucked me in?” Peter prompted, surprisingly content with practically being swaddled in the luxurious bedding.
“You won’t have remembered, but I did know you when you were just a baby. You were the most beautiful, sweet little half-Terran.” Veritas answered, running her hands through his soft tawny locks. “I missed helping take care of you and I couldn’t resist the desire to do so again now that you’re with me.”
“So, are you like my aunt or something?” Peter yawned.
“Or something. I’ll explain more when we reach our safe hold.” Veritas promised, kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, Little Star Lord.”
Once she was sure he was asleep, Veritas departed to her own quarters. She didn’t necessarily need to sleep, but it was nice way to relax. She changed into a white cotton floor length nightgown and got into bed. It had been a long time since she was able to slip into a resting state. As she thought about it, Veritas realized it was around the time the Peter came into the galaxy. The Milky Way seemed much brighter back then. She only wished she could tell him everything, but there were certain things he wasn’t meant to know. It was safer that way.
As soon as the next day cycle began, Veritas arose, donning a black and white polka dot dress reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn’s style. She had discovered the Terran on one of her many trips to Earth and adored her sense of style. The 1940s on Terra was a good century for fashion in her opinion. Once dressed, she checked their trajectory. If the estimations were correct, they would be landing near the cemetery in Missouri where Meredith Quill was laid to rest by the time breakfast was over. With a wistful smile she moved onto making a hearty breakfast for everyone. Veritas settled on french toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a diced mixture of strawberries and bananas. She figured Peter would appreciate a breakfast from his childhood on such a hard day. She set the table in the ‘mess’ hall and headed off to awaken everyone. She began with Eris, Harmonia, and Elpis in the crew’s quarters. She helped Harmonia style her hair and encouraged the empath siblings to join everyone for breakfast. Veritas then moved onto her guests, beginning with Drax since he was on her way to the others.
“Mr. Drax, breakfast is waiting in the dining hall.” Veritas informed him as he awoke.
“Breakfast?” Drax yawned as he stood and stretched.
“Yes, I made more than enough for everyone.” She assured him.
“What did you make?” Drax inquired.
“A favorite of Peter’s. When he was little, he loved French toast with scrambled eggs, bacon and a mixture of strawberries and bananas so that is what I have made.” Veritas elaborated. “I understand Terrans have an easier time dealing with difficult or complicated things when they have some form of comfort to fall back on, such as meals from their childhood or objects of comfort like blankets or songs.”
“That must be true. Quill is only in a good mood during difficult jobs if he has had a favorite meal, snuggled with what I once heard him call his baby blanket, and has his Walkman.” Drax agreed. “I shall await the others in the mess hall. Thank you, scrawny woman.”
Veritas rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. She knew all about his culture and their idea of what was attractive in a mate, which meant she already knew he disapproved of her preferred form. As she moved towards the guest quarters, she ran into Gamora, who was already dressed and pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
“Good Morning, Ms. Gamo-” Veritas began.
“It’s Just Gamora, Veritas.” The Zehoberein interrupted her.
“My apologies, Gamora.” Veritas responded. “I just wanted to wish you a good morning and encourage you to indulge in the breakfast I have prepared and served in the dining hall. It is one of Peter’s favorites from his childhood. I hope you will enjoy it as well.”
“Thank you, Veritas.” Gamora replied. “Is everyone already awake?”
“Most are, but Peter is still asleep. I was just going to wake him.”
“I’ll join the others and wait for him in the dining hall.” Gamora stated, not sure how she felt about the odd woman being so involved with Peter already.
“We shall join you shortly.” Veritas reassured her with a soft smile and hands folded in front of her. | 8dd031b786934c079ef93dd5411c9400 | ['41017af4c0114464a7ded7862691dc34'] | Gamora wearily watched on as Veritas soothed Peter by swaying and humming as her empathic ‘children’ entered with various items between the three of them that looked like Peter-sized baby items including diapers, onesies, toys, pacifiers, and blankets. She understood what Veritas was saying, but she wasn’t sure that the Celestial’s approach was appropriate. Coddling would only get them so far when they needed him to be his normal 28 year old self. Gamora dragged Drax out of the room as Veritas laid a much calmer infantile Peter down to change him out of his urine drenched clothes. She quickly slipped a pacifier into his mouth as she saw him trying to suck on his fingers. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, just like an infant’s, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Based on the somewhat vacant look in his eyes, there was no trace of his adult self to be found.
“Let’s get you dressed, then we’ll have something to eat and go play with the others.” She softly narrated as she cleaned him up and dressed him in a diaper and sky blue onesie patterned with fluffy white clouds. “There we go! All better!”
Peter’s gaze drifted all over the place, never quite making eye contact when he did look at her. It was a testament just how young his mind had reverted back to. She rubbed his back as she took him into her arms. Peter’s head lolled against her shoulder as he calmly sucked on his soother while Veritas snatched up a gray plush blanket that had little white arrows all over it- she thought it was a nice touch given the fact that Yondu’s favored weapon was an arrow and it was the first weapon Peter was ever taught to use. She walked at a steady pace towards the dining hall where he empaths should have steered their guests. Peter was mostly limp in her arms, only occasionally tilting and turning his head in different directions to watch the places they passed. It was even more imperative to contact Yondu than before if Peter was this vulnerable, but that must wait until she figured out what to do with him during the call because it was better to ease Yondu into this particular situation than to suddenly appear on his private Comm link with Peter in his current state. She was pulled from her thoughts as she entered the dining hall.
“We must contact Rocket and see if the ship is ready. We will need all of us and everything we have in our disposal to fight off the Celestials.” Gamora insisted, feeling a bit like the Terran concept of ‘a deer in the headlights.’
“It’s okay. I understand.” Veritas assured as she took a seat at the head of the table.
She adjusted Peter to lay across her lap with his padded rear between her thighs and her right arm supporting his neck and upper body while her left was draped over his middle, hugging him to her torso. His head rested against her chest while his legs kicked and moved sporadically. All eyes were on Peter as Veritas relaxed in the large, cushioned chair.
“You may use my Comms to contact your other family members, but after I make a quick call to someone.” Veritas offered, bouncing the infantile man in her arms. “But I do have a favor to ask of you two.”
“And what would that be?” Gamora hesitated.
“I would like you and Drax to keep an eye on Peter while I make my call. I do not want to overwhelm him with Peter’s condition until I can explain what happened.” Veritas requested.
“We will, but only on the condition that you explain how you were so prepared for this… condition.” Gamora bargained.
“Of all the effects that the Nova Force could have, the one that afflicts the person is based on who they are. Sometimes so far as to their core being, their soul.” Veritas elaborated. “For Peter, which anyone can guess by his personality, it was regression due to his charismatic immaturity since his childhood was not much of a traditional one, considering he’s a Terran and they are quite the mild species when it comes to raising their young. Those who go insane are often already in bad shape before being altered by the Force.”
“So when will he be back to himself?” Drax posed, with a curious expression.
“I am unsure. I do not know how much he learned and remembered nor how easily he will accept what he did.” Veritas admitted, taking a bottle with a specially formulated liquid meal supplement and getting Peter to latch on. “We will have to see how quickly he re-learns what he does know. We, meaning my… Um… _ companion _ and I, will have to re-raise him. It’s possible he’ll just wake up one day and be back to his 28 year old self, but until then we’ll do what we can.”
The rest of breakfast passed mostly in silence. Everyone ate and vacated after cleaning up while Veritas fed and burped Peter, then carried him to the commons where she had her empaths set up a little nest of pillows and blankets to lay Peter in while he dozed so she could contact Yondu. Gamora took a seat next Peter’s nest, waving a Terran made stuffed bear above him until he fell asleep with a small smile gracing his lips from behind the pacifier’s plastic guard. Drax was once again deeply entertained by the empaths and encouraged the swapping of stories amongst all of them as Veritas excused herself to go to the bridge. They were four day and night cycles out from Superego and she could only hope that Yondu would step up to haul ass so he could join them sooner rather than later. |
57ff3d62c5f64896a5f1cf541cdb9fee | ['41037fe1cd094955815e7111a73a6b16'] | GA: What
TT: For the warning you gave us. Have you already forgotten your shining moment of chivalry?
GA: I Did Not Forget
GA: I Just Did Not Think It Required Gratitude
GA: To Be Fair I Did Not Really Want To Warn You But I Did
GA: So You Are Welcome
TT: I’m certainly glad you found it within yourself to help us.
GA: I Have Not Decided Whether Or Not I Am Glad I Helped
GA: You Are Not Exactly In Our Good Graces
TT: What do you mean? I am not aware of an instance in our last exchange that would cause you to feel volatile towards me or my brother.
TT: Wait, did you speak to Dave?
GA: No
TT: Oh, thank God.
GA: But My Companion Did
GA: Before You Ask That Is Not The Reason I Was Hesitant To Help
TT: Then would you care to elaborate?
GA: Yes
TT: Go on.
GA: Yes As In I Do Care And I Dont Plan On Explaining Myself
TT: Are you always this snarky and obtuse?
TT: First, you refuse to even share your name, and now you cannot even compel yourself to share as to why my brother and I fall in you and your companion’s bad graces.
GA: I Did Not Realize I Was Being Particularly “Snarky”
GA: Did You Consider That Maybe I Do Not Share My Personal Information Because I Do Not Trust You
TT: And am I supposed to trust you?
GA: Yes
TT: Well, I’m sold.
TT: Where are you anyway? You said you escaped the lab, but what about afterward?
GA: I Am Unfamiliar With This Area So I Cannot Say For Sure
GA: But I Believe We Drove For Thirty Miles Until Out Car Broke Down A Little While Ago
GA: Now We Are Stuck In The Middle Of Nowhere
TT: Did you take the highway?
GA: Yes I Think So
TT: Then we might cross paths. We are refueling and gathering supplies right now, but I’ll look out for you on the road.
GA: We Dont Need Your Help
TT: We shall see about that. Technically, we owe you, however begrudgingly you assisted us. Just accept this simple act of gratitude. You can even take this as an opportunity to trust us!
GA: …
GA: Fine
\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 10:42 --
I closed the laptop and set it aside me on the hood of the car so it could charge properly. All the goddess of luck and fortune smiled down upon us when I remembered I had a solar-powered hub generator in the trunk of my car. All it could do in our case was charge our phones and my laptop or jumpstart the car’s battery if need be, but still. I was counting every little thing as a win, with all the losing we’ve had lately.
Dave was busy siphoning gas from the abandoned cars in the gas station parking lot. There was some gas in the station’s tanks, but he couldn’t figure out how to retrieve it safely without electricity to power the pumps. I didn’t want to think about what happened to the owners of the abandoned vehicles; we hadn’t run into any infected persons, but I figured they had to be around nearby. So I stood watch as Dave continued his grueling labor.
My brother seemed completely recovered from his panic in the car, but that did not stop me from worrying. I was used to his fragile mentality; however, it frightened me how bad it was getting, especially when it had seemed to be improving. When he first arrived in New York, he was scatter-brained and jumpy. He didn’t speak or even eat much at all. I safely assumed it was a typical reaction to the loss of a guardian, but as weeks and months dragged on, I began to speculate there was something else there.
But I felt like the only one who did. He hid it perfectly in front of most people. The teachers at school didn’t bat an eye. Even Mother hadn’t seemed particularly worried, but in her defense, it was hard to be worried when you’re, at best, tipsy twenty-four seven. Actually, that was one of the only positives to the outbreak: Mother had to sober up in order to function at the lab where her genius was needed. Of course, she eventually had to stay at the lab for prolonged periods of time so I did not get to fully appreciate her sobriety. And then…
I sighed. Lack of sleep, overwhelming stress, my own mental pitfalls—they were all taking quite a toll on me.
Dave managed to fill our tank and an extra gasoline container completely, placing the latter in our trunk, making sure that it was secure and wouldn’t fall over and spill.
“Ready?” He asked me. His pale forehead glistened with sweat that dripped down behind the opaque walls of his black aviators.
“As ready as I’ll ever have the misfortune to be,” I replied, brandishing my weaponized knitting needles. I should have probably looked for something more conventional, but the needles felt natural in my hands, and I was hesitant to part with them.
We made our move towards the gas station itself. We were in sore need of food and basic supplies; my meager supply pack only had a few rations and toiletries. It looked like we could be on the road for a while, especially if we couldn’t find Mother.
Dave banged on the glass door entrance in order to draw out any remaining infected. We waited through a minute of silence with baited breath, and then pushed into the store front. There was no familiar hum of the freezers or fans, no clerks lounging on the counter selling alcohol to underage kids. I was starting to accept that the world was dead, but that didn’t make it less eerie. | 32f75fb1948c4cbf9a1ab3dda6a543a7 | ['41037fe1cd094955815e7111a73a6b16'] |
1. AI. For the Better
**Author's Note:**
> TG: DIRK HAS A BOYFRIED
> TT: Does he now? Must’ve been painful.
_We could save each other for the better_
_And when you say my name I'll be a memory_
_This is more than we had planned_
_Choice is taken from our hands_
_Finally there's space to stand alone_
-Birdy, [[s]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iHTp01QWKw)
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--
TT: Did you hear about the AHS Christmas party tomorrow night?
TG: what do you take me for rose ofc i heard about the party
TG: it is only THE party of the year
TG: only complete asswipes dont know about the party
TT: Forgive me for infringing on your pride; I know how delicate it can be.
TG: offended
TT: I’m not apologizing twice. I have a contrived hubris, too, you know.
TT: I suppose what I meant to ask was: Are you going, and do you need me to drive you?
TG: yes and yes
TG: i mean
TG: unless you wanna actually have fun for once then i can find another ride
TG: im sure dirks bringing roxy we could ride with them
TT: While I appreciate you taking my potential “fun” into consideration, I’ll have to decline.
TT: I don’t mind driving you, you know.
TT: Besides, there is no foreseeable future where Roxy doesn’t get completely trashed and vomits in Dirk’s car, and I would rather not be there for that.
TG: hahahaha true
TG: dirk is the real mvp for putting up with that shit
TT: We’ve got to count ourselves fortunate for being born a whole year after them, because ostensibly that frees us of certain responsibilities pertaining to a certain alcoholic sister. This year, at least.
TT: Sometimes I feel bad not being there to help Dirk anymore, but there is only so much I can do when they’re in college.
TG: fuck that rose you helped more than enough while they were still in high school
TG: god remember last year when roxy spilt an entire bottles worth of wine on your new dress
TG: shit was a goddamn nightmare it looked like you were the dumb blonde teen in a slasher movie and roxy was the serial killer
TT: Yes, regrettably that memory wasn’t tragic enough for it to be repressed and forgotten, so I remember it rather vividly.
TT: Anyway.
TT: We’ll leave the house tomorrow at 8:00. Sounds good?
TG: hell yeah
TG: also
TG: jade and i are going get froyo tmr afternoon if you wanna join
TT: Hang out with the ex with only my twin brother as a buffer?
TT: I think I might take a rain check on that one.
TG: yeah sorry i figured i just thought id mention it
TG: i thought yall broke it off on good terms is all
TT: We did.
TT: I just,
TT:
TT: Hm.
TG: no really rose its fine i shouldnt have opened that can of worms
TG: dammit
TT: Dave. It’s fine. I just need more time to sort out the vortex of feelings that come with that particular ‘can of worms.’
TG: aight cool
TT: Good night.
TG: gn
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] –-
I close the chat window with a sigh. I really should go with Dave tomorrow. Jade has been messaging me to hang out lately, but I keep coming up with lame excuses not to. Dave was right; the breakup had been mutual and relatively good-natured. So why am I so adverse to the idea of simply being friends with Jade? The answer is there, in the back of my mind. _You are afraid of falling in love again_.
I shake my head, closing the laptop shut and carrying it from my desk to my bed. It is already twelve, and I know I’ll be up much later tomorrow night. I’ll answer a few unread messages then try to get some sleep.
\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] –-
TG: rosey!!!!!!
TG: omg
TG: idk wht u r doin but it s NOT more imporntant than wht I hav 2 tel u RN
TG: *important (im porn tant lamO)0
TG: ugggggggh y do u go to bed so eralyy u grandma
TT: I’m still awake. What is so impor(n)tant that you felt the need to tell me at midnight?
TT: That’s not that early, you know.
TG: oky yis it is
TG: but anyway u will not belief what i am abt 2 say
TG: *belieb
TG: ew *believe
TT: Well, out with it then.
TG: its aboat dirk :0
TT: The audience is shocked.
TG: shut
TG: try 2 guess
TG: youoll neverrrr get it
TT: I am utterly trembling with anticipation. Please, proceed with your message; there is no way I can make an accurate guess in this state.
TG: *she says w a straigt face n prolly a yawn*
TG: hhhFINE
TG: y u gotta ruin my fun man :(
TT: Something tells me you’re still going to have plenty of fun telling me whatever it is you have to tell.
TG: hehe ok ur rite
TG: ~~like alweys``~~=
TG: *always
TG: ok! ehem
TG: dirk
TG:
TG:
TG:
TT: You truly are a master of suspense.
TG: shhhh yis i am but shhhH
TG: DIRK HAS A BOYFRIED
TT: Does he now? Must’ve been painful. Will we all have to change our names and move to Canada to escape the throes of the United States justice system now?
TT: Hmmm.
TT: How does “Viceroy Von Salamancer” sound?
TG: *BOYFREN
TG: **BOYFRIEND
TG: thats the ticket
TT: This is truly a startling revelation.
TT: Not to mention much more interesting than fried males.
TT: How long have they been together?
TG: uh well
TG: ok ill be honeste
TG: they r teckincilly (aint even goona try 2 spell that rite) not dating i guess |
f7ac05653a464d4fb39b62d5775f36c8 | ['41110669d38c4935bd27b219a14f57f4'] | “Yes, it does matter. This is what I do every day. I hear story after story after story from criminals, murderers, rapists who feel their emotions give them the right to do anything they want. Let me ask you something else – that fellow who bit you, Peter Hale? I heard his whole family died in a fire; that was pretty traumatic. So he had the right to do that to you?”
“Peter Hale wasn’t my friend.”
“Which makes it okay? You could have died Scott. You could have never woken up! All because a Stilinski put his own emotions over someone else’s well-being. And if, what people told me about how important you are here in this town, he put his emotions over everyone else’s well being. That’s why he’s in jail, and that’s why, if I have any say about it, he’ll serve his full sentence.”
“You were just being a dick about the home-release program, though. You can try to convince me all you want that this is about the law, but you blocked Stiles getting into the program.”
“I blocked it because he doesn’t have a home, Scott. Your mother was going to take him, and I don’t trust him around my family. Not after what he did to you.”
“Well, you are going to have to get used to it. Because we’ll move past this, and I’ll always trust him. I’ll get him out of there and we’ll both have our lives back.”
“And what if next time, he kills you?”
Scott stormed out of the house. “Then I’ll be dead! Again!” He slammed the front door behind him.
Scott stopped on the front porch of the house and rolled his eyes. He had meant to get the keys to the bike from where they hung on the wall when he had arrived. But, instead, he had gotten into a fight with his dad – predictably – and had stormed out – predictably. He could go back in, but then that would ruin his dramatic exit.
He also didn’t want to give his father a chance to say anything more. He knew he couldn’t logically argue with his father’s points about the law and responsibility, but he also knew there was more to it than that. Being a friend didn’t mean letting the person get away with murder, but it also didn’t mean turning your back on them when they were at their lowest.
Finally, he decided he’d just walk back to the house. It’s not like it would take forever, and he’d be able to run once he got outside of the city proper. It’s not like he wasn’t the strongest monster in the city – or maybe the second strongest. He’d never seen the Beast, but the reports indicated that it was terrifying.
Still, the chance of him meeting it tonight was slim. Unless it was waiting for him outside his home. Unless it knew he was back and was just waiting to kill him.
“Great,” Scott complained to the night. “Now I’m scaring myself.”
Which was why he nearly jumped when an SUV pulled up next to him. “Hey, hot stuff,” Isaac drawled. “Want a lift?”
“I thought I told you that you didn’t have to wait?” Even though he was surprised to see Isaac there, he didn’t really want to be alone right now and walk all the way out to the country.
“Yeah,” Isaac smirked. “I know I didn’t have to. Get in.”
6. Mis-Shapen Chaos of Well-Seeming Forms
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Scott finally gets a chance to talk to Stiles. It doesn't go well. Scott and Isaac travel to visit Meredith in hope of finding a clue about Lydia's fate.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I've added section separators. I wanted to try writing without them, but it just seemed confusing.
The next day, Isaac drove Scott back down to the Beacon County Jail. Again, Scott had told Isaac that it wasn’t necessary. He was sure that he would be safe traveling in the daylight, no matter what The Beast was up to. He had gotten the full story form the Argents about their connection to the Beast, so he understood now that their enemy wasn’t a mindless animal, but a cunning serial killer. Even as powerful as he had to be, it wouldn’t do for the villain to draw more attention from the mundane authorities than he already had.
Again, Isaac had insisted on being the one doing the driving. Scott wondered briefly about Isaac’s devotion. Maybe his beta missed him more than he had said; maybe it was instinctual since his alpha had been so grievously hurt.
Again, Isaac also thought it would not be good for him to come in. Scott really wished he could argue against that. Given that there had been _no one_ to visit Stiles for the last six months, he thought that Stiles might want as many people as possible to visit him. Still, he wasn’t going to force it.
Again, Scott went through the same procedures he had gone through the day before and sat down to wait.
Again, the guard informed him that the prisoner did not want to meet him. Scott told him that he would be there for the full hour. And he did. He sat there for a full hour.
The rest of the day he spent in a frustrating attempt to get into the ruins of Eichen House. The place was still considered a federal crime scene, even though a company was removing the rubble. Isaac and he were stealthy enough to get into the location, but not stealthy enough to do any sort of serious digging around without getting caught. Especially, since neither of them knew anything about architecture. Especially since all the public plans for Eichen House were now in federal custody as evidence; supposedly, the public plans might have fingerprints on them.
****** | 19f4dc2a0bbe4f2c8154ed7022367204 | ['41110669d38c4935bd27b219a14f57f4'] | Theo had gotten at least one shovel talk from his mom when they had first started dating and an angry desert tray over Christmas from Chris. He had taken it without complaint, just as he had promised Scott, and things had progressed to the level where small talk was possible. It wasn’t even awkward small talk; that had been saved for Rafael, who was clumsily lurking on the edge of the blanket as well. This was the first pack function his biological father had been to.
Speaking of newcomers, Scott glanced over to the blanket next to him, catching Alan’s eye. He sat with Mason and Corey and Marcus. Marcus was the teenager they had adopted this last spring. He was a freshman; he had been the victim of unspeakable abuse by his own blood. Mason and Corey had let him get involved with the pack at his own place, and while he was still shy and jumpy, he had taken to the pack’s secret quickly enough. He was fascinated by monsters who did care.
On the other side, Noah was spoiling Claudia without restraint. He had the toddler on his lap and was letting her eat only what she wanted, much to her Daddy’s astounded irritation. Grandpa was ignoring all the huffing and pouting while Lydia barely kept herself from bursting into laughter. During the whole ordeal, Lydia and Stiles kept glancing at each other as if they thought no one could see them doing it. They could at least be friends again, it seemed.
There was an explosion of giggles from the next blanket over. One of the Dunbar Mini-Pack had backed right into their father as he was trying to eat, dumping ribs, potato salad, and baked beans into his lap. Liam danced about trying to get the food off of him but not on their blanket as his children and Derek’s Vernon burst into open laughter. Hayden was chasing him with a towel and a twinkle in her eye.
The place of honor was set up for the Hale family. It was their tradition after all. A conversation spanning three continents and three languages dominated as Malia and her French girlfriend were engaged in a get-to-know-each-other conversation with Cora and her Argentinian fiancé. Manuel was part of Cora’s pack from South America, while Amelie’ was a member of a secret Catholic society that studied the supernatural. Scott had spent some time talking to them, while Stiles had vetted them thoroughly. They were nice.
Peter was not there. Scott, after coming back from Russia, had finally put his foot down and banned him from pack functions if he couldn’t be respectful. Scott was a mature, adult alpha with a powerful pack and a strong reputation. He didn’t need to put up with Peter’s smarmy disrespect. Truth to be told, no one missed him.
Derek and Braeden were too busy flanking Talia. She knew what was going to happen tonight, and it put pressure on her, but her parents were trying to give her support while reassuring that nothing could happen tonight and it wouldn’t make one bit of difference.
Finally, Derek stood up. He cleared his throat. He had never been the best public speaker, but he could make his voice reach. He caught Scott’s eye and Scott nodded encouragingly. “Tonight is the Buck Moon, the full moon of July. For as long as my family could remember, we gathered like this out in the forest to celebrate. We celebrated what makes us the same as everyone else and what makes us different from everyone else. Tonight we look for those who will carry on that tradition.”
Rafael leaned over to ask Scott. “This is how they tell who’s going to be a werewolf?”
Scott nodded. “There are other ways to tell but this has more … meaning.”
“I’d like the Alpha to come up now.” Derek caught his voice for a moment as if a memory had welled up and stopped him from speaking. He took a breath. “He will represent those who could not be here and honor those who are no longer with us.”
Scott walked up easily between the people he had come to care about. He had talked this over with Derek beforehand. Grabbing a torch from its resting place, he lit it as he passed one of the cooking fires.
There was a large boulder to the side of the clearing. It would serve as a platform tonight. On one side there were four tall candles for those who could not be there with them that night – one for Isaac, for Jackson, for Ethan, and for Kira. He lit each one, calling out their name. On the other side, he lit four more candles for those who could would never be with them again – one for Erica, one for Boyd, one for Aiden, and one for Allison. He called out their names as well. Then, in front of the boulder, he lit a bonfire for the Hale family. Derek and Cora spoke their names as the fire caught.
Scott nodded to Derek after they were finished. Derek cleared his throat. “Would the wolves and those who might be wolves come up please?”
Scott watched as Liam and Hayden approached; his mother moving to watch their kids. The children would one day participate but not yet. Malia, Cora, and Manuel stood up as well. While Cora and Manuel weren’t married in the eyes of the law, he was as good as in the eyes of the pack. Derek had to step forward and take Talia’s hand. They had started this up this year because of her. It was about her age when a born wolf would first start showing signs of the change.
Scott waited; it wasn’t long until he realized that Theo wasn’t joining. He gestured at him, and Theo shook his head. Leaving his place, he went to where Theo was sitting.
“I’m not actually a wolf …” Theo protested.
“Neither is Malia. You’re _pack._ ”
Theo opened his mouth to speak again.
Scott leaned his head down to whisper into Theo’s ear. “You're family, Theo. You’re my family, and you belong here. Come on.” Scott held out his hand and pulled him to his feet. The chimera swallowed out of fear but he came none-the-less. He led Theo to the base of the rock and left him there. No one paid Theo any mind, as all the wolf eyes were focused on Scott.
Scott climbed up on the boulder. It wasn’t even, so he had to balance, but that was okay. He looked down at the eager faces of the wolves below him. He looked beyond to the rest of the pack, happy or with the potential to be happy, but all safe. He looked at his family – his fathers, his mother, his sister, and his brother. They were here with him. He looked down at Theo. So was he.
Transforming easily, Scott turned to the sky. He could see the eyes of his pack light up in response to his own. It took a moment before Theo’s did as well, taking his place in the pack. Drawing breath as deeply into his lung as he could, Scott howled. The pack’s howls harmonized with his own. Even he had to admit it was incredible, feeling the echoes shakes his very bones. He hoped it made everyone feel as good to hear it as he did to lead it.
Standing amid the other wolves, Talia’s eyes flickered bright yellow, like a struck match. The Hale line would continue. Scott felt better at that moment than he had felt since before he went into the woods so long ago. He could rest with all the people who loved him and he loved in return.
Above them the moon sailed among the branches of the trees, full and bright. |
f7c3bca919304e928cdc7bcaadcf7876 | ['4112279918804a09830c4e29fd0d0947'] | "...Mom?" she spoke quietly, getting a harder sniffle in response as the figure went from a walk to a run, its ears flicking back as it drew closer, Judy dropped her bag to the ground and picked up her own pace, momentarily colliding with the other doe, she wasn't expecting tears on both sides, but there they were. The embrace was tight enough to break ribs, Bonnie Hopps being no pushover herself, they stayed quiet for a while, enjoying the comforting contact, Bonnie's paw instinctively stroking her daughter's ears.
_Paws are as soft as ever... This is nice._ Righty commented softly.
"Where have you been, bun-bun?" Bonnie asked in a strangled tone, breaking the silence. "We haven't heard anything from you since you left after that nasty business with the deranged little sheep!" she said, voice breaking as she added, "We thought you'd... You'd been..." she couldn't finish the statement, Judy felt like someone drove an icy dagger through her heart, and twisted it.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't put you all in danger." Judy looked her mother in the eyes, trying to convey how much it had pained her to stay gone as long as she had, without so much as a word being sent home, "I promise, I'll explain everything."
Bonnie took a deep breath, putting her paws on Judy's shoulders, stepping back to give her a once-over.
"It's a long story, mom." Judy said, violet locking with violet, both watery and glazed. Bonnie, having decided she was satisfied with her daughter's condition pulled her back into a hug.
"Alright sweetheart, grab your bag... I've got tea ready in the kitchen." Bonnie said, adding with a heart-wrenching, warm smile as she brushed away the tears, "It's so good to have you home, Judy."
* * *
Nick and Judy made their way to the records department in relative silence, light patter of pad and claw echoing through the halls.
"Any idea why the records?" Judy asked, "Aside from the obvious Mole issue, I mean."
"Nah, he's probably just looking to go over whatever we've still got regarding the last incident."
Judy glanced at her fox with a curious glint in her eye, "Did they manage to recover anything from your case?"
Nick chuckled, "Our case, fluff." he corrected, before she could argue it, he added, "You may not have been on my side the entire time, but I wouldn't have closed it, much less _survived_ it without a certain, cute little bunny." he said, giving her a sidelong glance and his trademark smirk, all but begging her to call him on the 'C' word.
_Don't you dare._ Righty warned, _Take the compliment, and get him back later._
_Fine._ she conceded, ears blazing as they draped down her back. _He's going to have to learn what all that teasing does eventually, you know..._
_We should probably include that in the uh... 'Tail' discussion._ Lefty commented.
_Agreed._ Judy replied, the memory of the sensation alone sending a shiver through her small core.
"Cold?" Nick asked, having noticed the involuntary spasm.
_On it!_ Tail chimed in gleefully, wrapping around the doe's waist, just in time for Bogo to open the door and see the motion, raising a brow at the mostly innocent display.
_PDA buddy,_ _ **PDA!**_ he growled internally, his tail immediately flicked erratically, not exactly a smooth cover, particularly with the guilty look the fox wore before he could resume his usual relaxed expression.
_But... Warm._ Righty moaned in desperation, to which Judy had a difficult time arguing.
_What the hell has this fox done to me?_ was all the otherwise professional lapin could manage in the way of congruent thought.
"...We'll discuss _that_ later." the buffalo stated flatly.
_Ah, biscuits._ both fox and bunny thought.
_Well, this is a great first impression._ Judy thought.
_You two_ _ **did**_ _save each other's hides more than once in the last few months, within hours on a given instance, we can smooth that over easily enough._ Lefty calmly suggested.
_...Nobody said anything about fraternizing outside of work._ Righty added.
_Regardless, we can't walk around like that while we're on shift._
Nick was running through a similar, if more agitated line of thought.
_See what you did?!_ he growled. _I enjoy it just as much as you do, but we're going to cause trouble_ _ **FOR HER**_ _if we pull crap like that on shift!_
_I can't help it!_ Tail keened, _You know full-well that I'm simply carrying out your locked up desires! She was cold! It's instinct! You keep your mate warm!_
That outburst caused the fox to gracelessly stumble over his own feet, drawing more unwanted attention.
_She's NOT our mate!_
_Yet..._ Tail countered.
_It's not a 'yet'!_
_That mark says otherwise, pal._ Tail remarked smugly. _And you clearly don't pay attention, or am I mistaking the pheromones she's been kicking off ever since that little photo-shoot in the office?_
_That's!..._ Nick attempted to argue, but couldn't, given he'd been all but drunk off the intoxicating scent all morning. _A low blow._ he finished.
* * *
"Judy... Why didn't you just come home?" Bonnie asked as Judy nursed her tea, the details of what she'd gone through leading up to the recent events in the isles, it took all the older doe had not to scream over what her daughter had suffered, alone. And that was with most of the finer bits omitted.
She watched her daughter with watery eyes, wishing she could un-hear what she'd learned, that she could turn back the clock and stop it all from ever taking place. As that wasn't an option, she could only agree to keep Judy's story quiet, and offer what support she could in the days to come.
"I couldn't, not without bringing a threat along." she answered, staring into her cup, "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I put the family in danger, so I just rolled with it for a while." | b3bf77d8999346e392df156157226066 | ['4112279918804a09830c4e29fd0d0947'] | "This is not the bunny you are hungry for..." Jack mocked, waving a paw in front of him before crumpling into a heap of laughter and tears.
"Now she thinks I'm some creepy peeping tom..." Nick mused "I am so ****ed."
"Not anymore you're not!" Jack interjected, now wheezing. Nick just glared at the buck, hoping some of the violent thoughts would penetrate through his laughter.
Jack eventually managed to compose himself, and slapped Nick on the shoulder, "Cheer up, she won't be mad forever. Everyone gets walked in on at least once in their lifetime. It's not the end of the world."
"Yeah, but it just _had_ to be _ **her**_ I walk in on, didn't it?" Nick commented, still frustrated and flustered, but quickly calming down.
"It'll be fine, it was a simple accident. Five dollars says she's already over it."
"I'm not touching those odds with a ten foot pole."
"Fair enough. Let's just get some sleep, ya creeper." Jack said jovially, "We'll get a gauge on things in the morning."
Nick let out a lengthy sigh after they'd both settled into their respective spots, "Yeah... night."
* * *
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/N MkII: Yep, Judy got caught, Nick got an eyeful, and the silence to follow will be QUITE awkward for both. =3
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Balance.
> That is all.
> =3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> A/N: So, this one was (and still is) very close to breaking that T-rating... but I'm keeping it as is, it was fun.
>
> ...Yep.
>
> As always, huge thanks to GameBoy for his assistance, I actually had two full options up for the opening on this one, but we agreed Nick needed some sort of leg-up on the situation.
>
> Enjoy!
>
> Sincerely,
> TOG.
>
> /)_/)
> (^,^)
* * *
**_Crimson & Clover
_ **
**_Chapter 7_ **
* * *
Nick woke early as usual and left the tent with Jack snoring into his sleeping bag, hoping a nice swim would help calm his nerves after last night, he didn't see signs of anyone near the river, so he left his clothing hanging on a branch and dove in, it was somewhat deep, taking him a few seconds to touch the bottom, he ran his paws over the smooth stones on the river bed, enjoying the sensation as bubbles trickled from his nose to the surface.
He was happy he seemed to be the only mammal that was up at this hour, he needed some time to think, and figure out how the hell he was going to apologize and explain how he _wasn't_ a pervert to the grey doe he'd... _interrupted_ , last night.
Judy was up with the sun, having grown up on a farm, she was used to an early morning, and was dead set on a nice, refreshing swim. After walking down the river for a bit, not hearing or seeing anyone else nearby, she left her things folded on a stone just inside the trees and slipped silently into the water, it wasn't moving particularly quickly, and she was easily able to swim against it.
After hitting the bottom, she saw something flicking just upstream, the water wasn't crystal clear by any means, but she could make out something, and with the way it was almost swaying in the water, her best guess was it was some sort of fish. Naturally, she had an irresistible urge to catch it, if only to show it off to Skye.
It was surprisingly easy to catch, it didn't even seem to notice as she pushed off the stones on the riverbed and latched onto it. What she wasn't expecting was the gurgling yip that issued from the odd fish, she didn't have a chance to let go as the creature tore to the surface, whipping the bunny up with it.
She was very confused as, upon breaching, she was pulled onto the bank by a russet fox breathing heavily, ears back, propped up on his paws. Her eyes involuntarily flicked down, she was met with an eyeful of... _Foxy things_. Fully on display, a foot from her face, if that.
She had his tail in her paws, and she couldn't get her paws to listen to her brain and let go. Her ears were switching shades of red as her eyes flicked back up to meet a panicked emerald.
Crimson was staring her in the eye, looking like he was hyperventilating. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, her eyes flicked back down.
_That's an interesting sight._ she thought as a red point- about as red as her ears currently were, was protruding making itself known. Something about foxes and their tails was scratching at the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite bring it to the forefront as her eyes returned to his face, which was slowly going from panicked to mortified as his brain processed the fact that the thing that 'bit'his tail was actually Clover.
_Okay, you got your revenge, I deserved it after last night, now PLEASE let go._ He thought, every bit as frozen as the grey doe still latched onto his tail, he couldn't get his paws to move and cover himself, they were stuck in an involuntary standoff, and neither could say a word.
He also finally registered the fact that said bunny was every bit as naked as himself, and while her coat was short, it was still thick enough he hadn't been able to note just how finely toned her musculature was until she was soaked clean through, she wasn't bulky by any stretch, but she was every bit as lithe as he'd imagined... it wasn't helping his predicament. |
20b173d6a17a4e4abd40330b54ad0f30 | ['41124c9ad1ea417f9e34335fdaf6e635'] | “This is the job I wanted to talk to you about.”
Bela tilted her head to the side, going to take the envelope but you quickly pulled your hand away.
“I need your word that what you read will stay just between us. Once you’ve read it, i’m burning it,” you told her.
“Well, you have always been paranoid when it comes to trusting people. That’s why i’m surprised you stuck around in this town when Dean ditched you at the altar.”
You slammed a hand down on the table, giving her a hard glare. “Trust me, honey, if you don’t want the work - I can go to someone who does.”
“Relax,” she raised a hand in defense before you gave her the envelope, letting her read the contents.
You could see the intrigue cross her face as she neatly folded and placed the paper back in the envelope.
“What’s in it for me?” she finally asked.
“What’s your price?
“Well, as you’re an old friend let’s say 25k and those nice set of wheels out there.”
You scoffed, folding your arms and leaning back against the seat. “I’d hate to see what you charge your fucking enemies, Talbot.”
“I know you can afford it if you hire me to get the job done,” she smirked, taking a short drink from her mug.
“10k, and I keep the car.”
Bela rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you quite understand this negotiation thing. Good luck getting Fergus’ payout.”
She stood up to leave, stopping dead in her tracks when you spoke again, “If you do this, I’ll get you off of his deal list. You’re an old friend, after all.”
Bela turned to you, the relief clear in her eyes as she let out a breath.
“Done.”
You shook her hand with a smile. “Feel free to finish your coffee,” you offered, getting up and grabbing your bag. “It’s been a pleasure, as always,” you lied, feeling underlying relief in the fact she accepted.
Bela shrugged with a smirk, sitting back down and taking the mug in her hands, “by the way, I noticed some of the hunt passing your place earlier and a couple just outside when I came in. Just thought as you’re my employer now, I should give you a heads up.”
Your body tensed at her words. What the hell did they want? The Hunt weren’t supposed to come anywhere near your home, it was one place Fergus claimed completely out of bounds. He practically owned that side of the city. Did they really think those rules didn’t apply now he was gone?
“Thanks, Bela. I’ll be in touch,” you said, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and heading out to your car.
You needed to pay Dean a visit.
4. Chapter 4
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Chapter 4 Summary: You go to pay Dean a visit and it brings up the painful past.
The scent of cigarettes, beer and strong cologne hit you the moment you walked through the doors into the bunker.
The bar was always full of locals and members of the hunts gang. Plus the usual array of girls who offered their services, dolled up in makeup with short skirts, heels and thin tops.
You ignored the looks from the usual patrons as you headed straight for the bar where Ruby was working her shift. You knew it was likely everyone in this place knew who you were. The bunker was somewhere you hadn’t visited in years, but it’d hardly changed a bit.
“Y/N? Wow. This is a surprise,” the dark haired woman gaped, eyeing you suspiciously. “You want a drink?”
“No. Is he in?” You nodded your head, gesturing to the door that you knew led through to Dean and Sam’s offices.
A smirk crossed Ruby’s lips before she answered, “the bosses are in a meeting. You’re gonna have to come back later, babe.”
Rolling your eyes, you walked straight past the bar and toward the door, ignoring Ruby cursing and calling your name.
The corridors of the bunker were still decorated with the same paintings of the Lawrence just like it’d always been. Being in this part of the bar brought back memories of Dean and a nostalgia you’d rather not have.
You hesitated when you reached Dean’s office, debating on whether this really was a good idea. Did you really want to confront him here? Did you really want to risk digging up the past?
The sound of women giggling on the other side of the door quickly made your mind up for you. So much for the bosses ‘having meetings’.
You pushed open the door and were met with the sight of Dean sat in his chair with three women in nothing but lingerie around him. God, it killed you.
You gave a hard knock on the wooden door alerting the four of them of your presence. For a moment, Dean looked shell-shocked, like a deer caught in headlights as his eyes met yours and the girls abruptly got to their feet.
“Get out,” you warned.
They took next to no time in following your request. Everyone knew who you were, and even Dean’s hookers didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a gang disagreement.
Once the door closed, Dean got to his feet, running a hand through his mussed hair with a sigh.
“What’s with the timely interruption, Y/N?”
“You need to get your bikers to quit trailing me. I don’t know what kind of game your playing, but they can’t be passing my damn house.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, coming round to perch himself on the front of his desk. “I don’t know what you’re on about, sweetheart. Bikers are gonna be out wherever they want.”
You clenched your jaw at his nonchalant reply. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dean. I’m not some dumb, love struck kid anymore. I don’t buy your shit stories,” you snapped. | 9b659f03d5e84a3f8f4aa53fb6fa8781 | ['41124c9ad1ea417f9e34335fdaf6e635'] |
1. Chapter 1
The rain was pelting down as you stood in the church yard, umbrella in hand as the priest performed the funeral service. You watched in silence as the coffin containing your ex-husbands body was lowered down into the ground, a sense of remorse filling you.
As much as you weren't on good terms with Fergus Macleod in the last year of his life, you'd never wish him harm.
He may have been a terrible excuse of a husband, constantly cheating on you, and every aspect of his criminal involvement as a notorious biker gang boss made you feel uneasy, but he was a decent father to your daughter. He made sure Caitlyn had clothes on her back and food on the table, he'd spend time with her every week, and you could see how close they'd become even after your divorce 6 years earlier.
It was fair to say your 13 year old was struggling with the death of her father, and honestly? You didn't even know where to begin to try and comfort her.
Once the service was over, the dozens of people congregated came to give their condolences to both you, and the questionable excuse of his latest wife, Chantelle, for your loss. You could name no more than two of the people, knowing full well everyone else at this church was of no importance to Fergus and that they were just here because of his standing in the gang territory in this town.
Honestly, they had more to fear being here than not. You had no interest in Fergus's business, but you knew that there would be chaos ensuing concerning his predecessor and who would take charge of the 'Hell Sons' now he was gone.
The gang would be at risk of being taken over by rivals, mainly Fergus' eternal enemies, the Winchesters.
More commonly known as 'The Hunt'.
[[MORE]]
You could finally breathe a sigh of relief once you reached your car. Playing the heart broken widow was exhausting. You couldn't pretend Fergus was a good man, but listening to everyone roll off completely unrealistic stories in spite of him being gone just made you feel nauseous. The guy was dead, just let him rest. Why did they have to try and alter the memory of him? It just made you feel even more anxious to get home to Cait.
Pulling into the drive of the house, you frowned as you saw an unfamiliar black porche parked in your usual space.
Panic was the first thing that hit you. What if it was one of Fergus' guys here to negotiate? With adrenaline pumping through your veins at the thought of your daughter in danger, you grabbed the handgun from your bag and hooked it in the halter strapped around your thigh as you got out of the car.
Cautiously and quietly, you opened the door, making your way into the house and looking out for anything out of the ordinary. The sounds of Caitlyn's laughter from the kitchen caught you off guard, followed by a familiar British voice.
"It's true. I never even learnt how to swim. Baths are even a fear of mine."
"Wow. That's just embarrassing," Caitlyn shook her head with a smile, her eyes darting over to you as you entered the kitchen.
"Mom," she got to her feet, giving you a hug as you held her tight, your hands cradling her head.
"Hey, sweetie," you pressed a kiss to the top of her head before acknowledging the suited man standing in your kitchen.
"I wasn't expecting you, Mr Ketch."
He smiled, giving a curt nod. "I did leave a message with Ronnie this morning."
Well, that explains it. Your cousin was more than a little immersed in Arthur Ketch. You were sure he used her infatuation with him to his own means.
Sure, he was an attractive, charming man with an accent. But he was also a notorious, sadistic ass when he wanted to be. There were times even Fergus was disturbed by his second in commands decisions.
"And how many times, please, call me Arthur," he added, pouring two large cups of coffee.
_Just make yourself at home_.
"How was the service?" Caitlyn asked quietly, her bright green eyes looking at you with sadness.
"It was a lovely send off," you brushed a strand of her short dark hair behind her ear. "I put down the flowers you chose. We can go and visit whenever you like, OK?"
Caitlyn nodded, brushing at the tears falling down her face. The sight was just heart breaking.
"I'm gonna have a shower," she forced a smile and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before making her way upstairs.
You waited until Cait had closed the bathroom door before you approached Arthur.
"What are you doing here?" you questioned, mentally surveying his whole demeanour. Was he armed? What was his purpose being here?
He handed you one of the mugs, his touch purposely holding longer than it had to. "I came to give my condolences. Fergus was a good colleague of mine. It was an honour to be his business partner," the lies rolled off his tongue with expertise, but you saw right through them.
"And what will your role be in the business now he's gone?" you asked, taking a seat at the kitchen counter, still facing Arthur.
He smiled, a hint of danger in his eyes.
Instead of answering, he took a drink of coffee and sat down beside you.
"Caitlyn is a good kid. Smart. Beautiful. Just like her Mother," he said. "I wonder if she inherited any of her father's traits?"
"She was close to Fergus. He showed her a side many didn't get to see," you replied, keeping your cool despite the overwhelming urge to throw this treacherous snake out of the highest window.
Arthur laughed, shaking his head to himself. "Wow. You're good, Ms Y/L/N." |
751579094c9b40da978ecfc29573bcfb | ['413ff15dad254916b4b47fbe1ee1f60d'] | She should have known he'd be the last one off the plane, limping down the stairs on one good leg and a pair of crutches. Seeing Jack's face was something akin to having a religious vision, she thought. Leslie actually put her palm over her heart, to keep it from beating right out of her chest. His stubbornness, his sometime-preoccupation, everything she'd given up for him; all of the problems were burned out by the sun when she saw him, alive and in the flesh. Her grudge against the Father might have dissipated, but this was what she believed in now.
He was everything she'd never known she wanted. She didn't know where this road was going to take her, but she'd chosen it, and there was no turning back.
Jack walked slowly, and Leslie hung back, waited on the moment when he would see her, would see his son growing inside her. He still didn't know - she never did send that letter, and everything else had just happened so fast.
The moment came, and it was everything she asked for. He stopped, staring, and time slipped around them, birds and planes freezing in their flight. The look on his face was something she'd carry with her until her dying day.
"Is it really you?" Jack squinted against the bright sun. Leslie smiled. He must have felt the same way.
"It is." Her throat was tight, and she thought it very strange that she'd be crying now.
Jack looked long and hard at her belly, and she knew what was going through his head. God, had he wanted kids. A whole houseful of them. Compromises could be reached.
"You're really...?"
Leslie laughed through tears, nodding. "Yes. I'm really. Never got a chance to tell you."
He laughed. Jack laughed, and it was the best sound she'd ever heard.
"I love you," he said, and she echoed it in return.
Jack reached for her then, kissing her with an arm around her waist. The weight of his hand, and the weight in her belly, felt good. They felt right. If she were a woman inclined toward poetry, she'd have something beautiful and profound to say, but she was not. Instead, she held her husband tight, hoping he understood. When all was said and done, Leslie could do nothing but thank God for her lost saints, and everything she'd gained along with them.
\--
fin
* * * | 7302817d5bd24f16bae946e8ffce7791 | ['413ff15dad254916b4b47fbe1ee1f60d'] | She sighs, her bitterness morphing into sadness and fatigue. "I don't blame anyone for what happened to me," Megan clarifies. "I can't. No one could have known. I didn't know." She regulates her breathing, keeping it level. "I just don't forgive you for cheating." Losing focus on her breath, the puffs become short and labored. "Because I don't know why. Why did you do it?" she whispers, her voice cracking. She sniffles, trying to compose herself. He doesn't answer immediately and she soon realizes that he's not going to answer at all. Gaining power in her voice she says, "When you can tell me that, maybe we can move forward." She nods her head despite the fact that he cannot see her and hangs up the phone. She's in pain, so much so she wants to curl into a ball and disappear, but she made it through the conversation. Maybe, just maybe, she is starting to heal.
Meanwhile, outside, Evelyn takes out her phone and the address book she snagged from the kitchen. Finding the number, she carefully dials it and waits for the line to be picked up. Four rings later, she hears the friendly woman answer on the other end. "Hi, Carolyn."
* * *
Owen and Amelia arrive home around seven-thirty that night, hand in hand. "It's nice to see you two so happy," Evelyn sighs, a hand over her heart. "That's all I've ever wanted for you." She meets Owen's eyes and they soften. "I made dinner," she announces.
"Smells good," Amelia pipes up. "I'm starving." She walks into the kitchen to grab a dish and puts the spinach quiche and some vegetables on her plate. Owen follows, noticing that the other two already ate.
"It is good," Megan says in response to Amelia's statement. Yawning, she says, "But I need to go to bed. First day I haven't napped and it's kicking my ass."
The other three adults chuckle at her crudeness. Evelyn stands up and goes to the medicine cabinet to grab her daughter's sleeping pills. She takes one out and grabs a glass of water before handing them to her. "Thanks," she says, quickly swallowing the little white pill. "I'm going to head to bed."
Evelyn hugs her goodnight and plants a motherly kiss on her forehead. She hates to see the little joy, the little progress Megan had made today, disappear from her features as the medicine sets in. She knows that it's necessary, but sometimes it feels like losing her all over again.
When Owen and Amelia sit at their small round table, Evelyn excuses herself as well. "I'm going to take a bath and settle down for bed. It's been a busy day." The two nod, Owen kissing his mother's cheek, before she leaves the room.
As much as they need their family, it is nice to have some time alone, strictly husband and wife.
"How was your day?" Owen asks as Amelia digs into her food.
She swallows her first bite, the taste just as wonderful as it smelled. "Pretty easy. Just a few aneurysm clips today. They were ones I would have let Edwards do."
He nods, pressing his lips firmly together. "Are you okay about that? I mean, you really liked her."
Amelia shrugs, blowing out a heavy breath. "She was like my right-hand man. She was perfect. She would've been a great neurosurgeon." Amelia looks up to meet her husband's eyes. "I liked teaching her."
"I know you did. You were are a great teacher." He moves his left hand to grab her's across the table. "You still are."
She sniffles. "At least I got to say goodbye." He agrees, eating a few more bites of quiche. He appreciates the home-cooked meal. "What about you?" Amelia asks, changing the subject. "How was your day?"
He swallows, washing the food down with a few sips of his water. "It was fine. No major accidents so a good transition day." She nods, squeezing his hand tighter.
"I am ready to get back into it," Amelia admits, turning her bright eyes back to his.
"Honestly?" he begins, "Me, too." He smiles, his eyes alight with happiness. He then decides to tease her. "But I mean, are you sure you're ready? You really didn't want to get up this morning," he jokes. "Maybe you should be a freelance agent. Work from home."
She disentangles her hand from his and playfully slaps the back of his hand. "I will never be a stay-at-home mom," her mind jumps to something he hadn't even considered. "I have to have work and a family. Not one or the other," she confides.
The sparkle in his eyes and the large grin he sports makes her comment, while still quite a while down the road, absolutely worth it.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Comments make me smile :)
7. Chapter 7
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you for keeping me motivated! You guys are great :)
“Family therapy?” Owen asks. “Don’t we already go to enough therapy?” he grumbles as he and Amelia settle into bed that night. Amelia chuckles, but he sees the insecurity in her eyes, the waver to her not-so-lighthearted laugh. “What I’d do?”
“Nothing,” Amelia brushes him off before shutting off the light on her nightstand.
“Amelia,” he drags her name out and she knows he means business. He’s worried and upset. He doesn’t want her to keep secrets from him. To hide away pieces of herself, little cutouts until there is nothing left of who she is and who he loves.
She sighs, burying her face into his chest. “It’s just,” she takes another deep breath, trying to find the willpower to say this. She doesn’t want to know what will happen if he says yes. “Do you not like therapy? Do you not want to go?” |
2b1dd8538e0d4fc782f68132609fb666 | ['414af6e862694807b7bd2f7687d8fa7f'] | > I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. The last two months have been hectic, since I've moved and holidays and traveling and all that stuff. My winter break is about to end, so I have midterms, so I'll be gone again :/ Sorry guys, hope you enjoy this chapter
> Also I intend to add NCT next chapter!! I'll only do members that have debuted, so feel free to leave suggestions on usernames!
_ ROLL LIKE A BUFFALO _
**Spitting Fire & Aegyo: ** DRAMAMAMAMAMA HEY
**kitkat chunky:** plz no
**bad_draculaaa:** so many bops been released recently
**redredredredredflavor:** ya
**fakemaknae:** ddd, clap, crazy sexy cool, likey, dramamama
**realmaknae:** yup
**Rich Mother:** One more is about to be released
**Rich Mother:** @ red velvet
**Redredredredredflavor:** shit u rite
**Velvet Momma:** who added him back
**taller:** dad couldn’t stand not getting the dicc
**Daddy:** sehun i stg
**Grammar Police:** he’s not wrong tho
* * *
_ ROLL LIKE A BUFFALO _
_ redredredredredflavor has changed their name to PEEK A BOO _
**PEEK A BOO:** PEEK A BOO
_ bad_draculaaa has kicked PEEK A BOO from the chat _
**Rich Mother:** issa bop tho
**fakemaknae:** tru
**bad_draculaaa :** shes just annoying it doesnt have anything to do with the song
**Rich Mother:** ah
_ Taller named the chat my whole family _ _ thinks im gay™ _
**taller:** Every time I go to dinner, seems like I get a little bit thinner
**dead:** here we go
**taller:** I'll sit down at the breakfast table, I can talk well they’re not able
**gucciflipflops:** o we’re able u just wont shut up
**taller:** When I look at them I find, there's a single question on their mind
**^-^minnie^-^:** ffs
**Taller:** I wish it could go back to the way it was
**Rich Mother:** nothing changed…?
**Taller:** It’s not easy now becausE
**realmaknae:** im confused
**Taller:** MY WHOLE FAMILY THINKS I’M GAY
**Ballerina:**
****
**EVERYBODY_KNOWS:**
**Moon:** okay
**Rock:** whats new
**Taller:** I GUESS IT’S ALWAYS BEEN THAT WAY
**Barney:** think? we know, sweatie
**Taller:** Maybe it’s ‘cause of the way that I walk that makes them think I like… boys
**Daddy:**
****
**RUNNING:** true
**dabdab:** oh good you’re here
**RUNNING:** ???
**Taller:** Just ‘cause I’m afraid of the snow
**alien:** you are?
**Taller:** Or my favorite color is the rainbow
**bb for days bro:**
****
**Barney:** we got that
**Taller:** Because even my boyfriend thinks I’m gay
**Bb for days bro:** whAt
**Taller:** Just kidding heh…heh
**Velvet Momma:** sure
**Taller:** You all probably think I’m gay
**sha sha sha:** ye
**Cool Mother:** we do
**RUNNING:** hunnie can you come here for a moment?
**Taller:** ye
**bb for days bro:** _ hunnie _
**Grammar Police:** Are we going to ignore the fact Sehun used proper grammar and punctuation?
**dead meme:** yes
**Grammar Police:** I’m going to kill myself
**Barney:** please no
**Barney:** this family cannot cook on its own
**Grammar Police:** only because i love you jongdae
**gucciflipflops:** AWWWWWWWW
**bb for days bro:** stay in your fucking lane bitcH
**Grammar Police:** For fucks sake.
**Barney:** i have a manz,,,, back off
**Grammar Police:** i dont want your flat ass
**dead meme** : he must really hate jongdaes ass
**dead meme:** dis bitch didnt even use proper punctuaction
**Bb for days bro:** YOU BITCH
**Bb for days bro:** _ SAY THAT TO MY FACE ASSWIPE _
**Grammar Police:** I’ll pass.
**Barney:** noooo bby come back
**Bb for days bro:** hold on i gotta fight this ho
**Gucciflipflops:** ah, the beautiful sound of breaking glass and screaming
**s.soups:** SONE
**s.soups:** BUL
**s.soups:** NAL
**s.soups:** TTAEKKAJI
**s.soups:** BAKSU
**Divaboo:** JJAKJJAKJJAKJJAK
**disgrace #1:** JJAKJJAKJJAKJJAK
**disgrace #2:** JJAKJJAKJJAKJJAK
**Mr. Kinky:** JAKJJAKJJAKJJAK
**whatvisual:** please choke.
14. nct in the house
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> ya girl is back and thanks for 200+ kudos it means alot
> I added NCT, so here are the usernames :)
> Kinky Mother - Taeyoung
> Parrot - Johnny
> dolphin - Chenle
> maknae on top - Jisung Pwark
> ʇsǝɹ ǝǝl ʞɹɐɯ ʇǝl - Jaehyun
> vroom vroom talk show - Doyoung
> ^(OvO)^ - Taeil
> prince of osaka - Yuta
> panicked gay - Ten
> foregin swagger - Mark
> singular smol - Jeno
> ùwú - Jungwoo
> meomchujima bami saedorok - Donghyuck
> nana - Jaemin
> i can rap excuse u - Yukhei
> singular smol 2.0 - Renjun
> lil kun kun - Kun
> limitess was a mistake - Sicheng
_whoop whoop whoop sobangcha_
**Kinky Mother:** Chenleeeee
**dolphin:** yea
**Kinky Mother:** I need you to come here
**Kinky Mother:** I’m proving a point
**dolphin:** again??
**dolphin:** okayyy
**maknae on top:** stop stealing him to prove that he’s cuter
**maknae on top:** im obiviously the cutest :3
**ʇsǝɹ ǝǝl ʞɹɐɯ ʇǝl:** honey no
**vroom vroom talk show:'**
****
**^(OvO)^:** im the cutest
**parrot:**
**prince of osaka:** lies
**panicked gay:** can we not
**foreign swagger:** ^^^^
**singular smol:** does this even matter
**ùwú** mom stop
**meomchujima bami saedorok:** mark shut up
**nana:** i cant find my lotion
**singular smol 2.0:** jeno stole your lotion
**nana:** bitcH
i **can rap, excuse u:** watch ur profanity
**lil kun kun:** ??
**limitless was a mistake:** i hate all of you
**prince of osaka:** even me?? :((
**limitless was a mistake:** especially you
**prince of osaka:**
****
* * *
_Appreciate Hixtape 2k18_
**Jamless:** Jung Hoseok i love you
**imyourangel:** love you 2
**Jamless:** wanna see something beautiful
**Jamless:**
**imyourangel:**
**Handsome Mother:** my son is so amazing
**dance mother:** *our
**Handsome Mother:** we’re divorced
**Handsome Mother:** i took custody of our children
**Jamless:**
****
**alien:**
**Golden Maknae:**
**Agust D:** shhhh
**Imyourangel:** i know you love me (❁´‿`❁)*✲ﾟ*
**Agust D:**
**Agust D:** sounds fake but okay
* * *
_my whole family_ _thinks im gay™_
_bb for days bro has changed the chat name to_ _my whole family_ _knows im gay™_
**bb for days bro:** we been knew
**bb for days bro:** anyways | 35cc2fac8a164f109ad98b30d3b5f1ae | ['414af6e862694807b7bd2f7687d8fa7f'] |
Mayday
**Author's Note:**
> When I first heard Mayday by Got7, I thought of something like this and after weeks of procrastination, I finally wrote it out! It gets a bit rushed at the end, but then again, I'm not very good with endings.
_LINK _
Silence was sickening. Mark hated it. He’d always been soft-spoken, but he needed human interaction to function properly. In short, he didn’t like being alone. He sat, leaned against the wall of his apartment, cigarette shaking in his trembling fingers. He hadn’t lit it yet; He might if he felt like it. But right now he didn’t feel like it. Throwing the unlit cigarette to side, Mark pushed himself off the wall to stand. A dull pain settled in the lower half of his spine from leaning against the wall in an unnatural position.
As he stood, his vision went black for half a second and he stumbled against the wall again, knees almost giving way. An emptiness grew in his stomach as he limped along the hallway, clutching the wall for support with scrabbling fingers. He had forgotten when he had last ate, but then again, his memory was as spotty as his vision.
Money was scarce and even if he could afford something, like ramen, he wouldn’t be able to actually cook it as his electricity went out a couple days ago.
His living room was illuminated by the dull orange sun setting light poking through the binds on his singular window. Collapsing onto the couch, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He rarely felt this exhausted, but the lack of food combined with the amount of tears shed in a day sucked out his energy like a vampire. His ribs were clearly visible as his white shirt settled on his reclined body, his hip bones jutting out like a starved animal’s. His cheeks felt sunken in, the ripped jeans that were once tight on against his limbs were loose and baggy.
Feeling a rush of self pity, Mark sat up abruptly, instantly regretting it as his vision went spotty once again. Using the coffee table and the arm of the couch as supports, Mark dragged himself to his feet and stumbled to the front door where he picked up a bomber jacket with trembling fingers to warm his stick thin body.
Mark was extremely skinny before he lost most of his money and happiness, but now he was simply skin and bones.
Fumbling with the door knob, Mark cursed with a scratchy voice that was barely recognizable as he weakly pulled open the door. He had to get out the apartment. It was bringing back memories that would haunt him for the rest of his days.
The steps where he and his ex girlfriend would kiss each other goodnight, the flickering light that Mark stood under when he got the call from his father, the small drops of blood from where Mark came home injured after getting into a fight with his ex girlfriend's new boyfriend. Some things shouldn’t remain, but they do.
Mark left his apartment building in a rush, barely keeping his balance as he stumbled over his own feet. His apartment was close to a bridge, a tall, large bridge. A vile taste filled his throat, yet he kept pushing forward.
Once he had reached the highest point of the bridge, Mark looked down at the shimmering water. The sun had nearly disappeared and all the remained of the fiery ball was a sliver of burning orange across the horizon. It was beautiful, the way the clouds reflected with puffy bursts of purple, blue, orange and gold light, shimmering like gold and gems in the sky.
“What a nice evening,” Mark murmured, painfully aware of the lack of people and cars. Looking down, he noticed a small sailboat with a busying figure floating around, ducking out and under and out and under the bridge. Weaving in and out, almost. The lone figure seemed to be having difficulty controlling as winds danced through the air. Mark let out a soft hum and looked to his left and then right. Empty. Taking a shaky breath, Mark pulled himself onto the railing that separated the water and the edge. He sat with his back to the water, the horizon, so that when he fell, he’d see the clouds, the beauty just out of reach. He thought of his mother suffering, his boss yelling in his face, his ex girlfriend’s sour face, the landlord’s sickening note and lastly, his own sorry self. He was a piece of worthless trash. The world would be better without him. So he leaned back, a sob escaping his lips as his stomach flipped, the bridge falling away before the hard water hit his back and everything went black.
Jinyoung had been observing the man leaning against the railing before he turned to see the man jumping from the bridge. The anchor slipped out his hands into the water and he dove into the water, panic swamping his body. What if he was dead?
Jinyoung dove underneath the waves, arms flailing as he struggled to find the man in the murky water, bubbles from the man’s impact make the job harder. Jinyoung’s fingers found a skinny wrist and he yanked, opening his eyes underwater for the first time. The man was completely stunning, but in a horrible way. He was limp, his clothes floating from his thin frame and his brown hair softly floated around his face, strands brushing his cheeks. Jinyoung yanked, pulled the man to the surface, taking a gasp of air as he desperately kicked to get to his sailboat.
The man was sickeningly light as Jinyoung pushed him onto the boat before dragging himself up. |
cdf34f1f6be7435dbba4d42949266830 | ['414c9bbcb8074aebb7f85cf6602ac1f6'] | "If you insist." Erza's armored fist slammed Mirajane's jaw, sending her tumbling to the ground with a resounding clang. The white haired mage quickly rolled to her feet, charging forwards and decking Erza with equal force. Mira chased after Erza as she tumbled backwards, kicking out at the red head. Erza brought up a gauntlet covered arm to block the blow, smirking at Mirajane's curses when her toes smashed up against the unyielding metal.
The enraged girl was quick to retaliate, knocking the swordswoman's legs out from under her and then falling on top of her, pinning her to the ground. Before Erza could shake her off, Mira began pounding on her, forcing the red head to throw her arms up in a desperate attempt to protect her head.
"Power Pole, Extend!" Mira let out a surprised yelp as the magical red staff slammed into her side, knocking her off of Erza and slamming her into the wall. Erza was quick to return to her feet, turning to glare at Goku.
"Do not interfere!"
"But you were in trouble, I was helping out."
"I do not want help! This is my fight, let me do this on my own!" Mirajane rose to her feet, glaring angrily at the martial artist.
"You heard her, this is a one on one. Butt out! Go play with your loser friends or something, this is none of your business!" Goku looked between the two girls and nodded, backing out of the way. Erza gave a nod of appreciation, grabbed a nearby chair, and spun around to smash it over Mirajane's head. The girl crashed to the ground with a groan, clutching the growing lump on the top of her skull.
"WHAT ARE YOU MORONS DOING TO MY GUILD HALL?" Everyone froze, one by one slowly turning up towards to see Master Makarov glaring down at them from the second floor balcony. Erza looked around guiltily, she and Mirajane had broken many tables and chairs smashing each other around, and some of the older guild members had positioned themselves off to the corners of the building, watching the spectacle. Not to mention she was still standing over the fallen Mirajane with a chair held over her head. There would be no ducking responsibility here.
"My apologies Master, my were having a… discussion and things got out of hand." Makarov snorted, looking between Erza and Mirajane then at the chair in Erza's hands. The young knight followed his gaze, and then hastily put the chair down.
"That much is obvious. However, my question is why are you fighting someone who is visiting this guild?" Erza hesitated for a moment, and Mirajane took the opportunity to speak up.
"We aren't just visiting, we are trying to join up. I wanted to see how powerful some of the guild members were, see how you guys stack up."
"Oh-ho, a challenge then? Tell me, what did you think?" Mira looked around the guild, taking in the damages and the people gathered around her. A smirk graced her face as she looked back up towards the small man.
"Well, they all look like idiots, but at least they like to fight, one or two of them can even pack a punch. I think I can speak for my siblings when I saw that this is a place we can call home. I speak for myself though when I saw that I'm going to enjoy kicking Ms. Tin Can around all the time." Makarov quickly raised his hand, cutting off Erza before she could retort.
"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for that later, though I hope that while you are beating each other senseless, you at least attempt to develop some sort of friendship. Now what do you say we make it official, and give all three of you the mark of Fairy Tail?"
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If there was a single thing the members of Fairy Tail loved, it was throwing wild crazy parties. The celebration of the three new members into the guild lasted for the rest of the day and far into the night, with most of the members passing out in the building long before they had the chance to drag themselves home. It wasn't until late into the morning that everyone was up and functional again, and thus it wasn't until the early afternoon that Makarov summoned the younger guild members to meet with him. Goku, Erza, Gray, Cana, Levy, and the Strauss siblings gathered together around the old man as he stood atop the bar.
"So, I hope everyone enjoyed the party last night. Especially since, thanks to certain members here, our food stores are almost completely gone." Makarov gazed around the group, letting out a small snicker at the sheepish cough that followed.
"Anyways, since you are all here I've decided to find you guys a little team building exercise. There have been a reports of an unknown witch terrorizing a small territory down south known as Cameolot. Supposedly this witch has gathered a group of monsters and is terrorizing the town. We've been requested to send a group of 5 mages down there to take care of the situation. I've arranged things so that you will be picked up at the train station in town and driven out to the general area of the witch, that way you won't have to deal with the local ruler.
"Why do you not want us to deal with the local ruler?" asked Erza, eyebrow raised. Normally when mages went to deal with a threat, the local leader would be the one they would contact.
Makarov looked at them for a moment, and then made a face. It wasn't just a scowl, or frown. It was a grimace of utter disgust that perfectly showed his distaste for the subject at hand. | b7518053525d454dac0a44a5e2758164 | ['414c9bbcb8074aebb7f85cf6602ac1f6'] | "Um… not really, here let me show you." The girl smiled and waved her hands in the air a word appeared in the air which then shifted into a ball of light. Illuminating the shelves around them with a soft glow.
"My magic is all about language and words. The word I wrote was the word for light, so that's the form my magic took. Now watch what happens when I combine it with the word for dance." She waved her hand again another word appear and was sucked into the glowing ball. Which began to zoom around the room, bouncing off of books and shimmying up the side of bookcases. "By understanding words, and what they mean I can create almost any kind of effect I want."
"Cool! So you can make anything you want, even food?"
"Well, yes I can, but the magically created food is never as tasty or as filling as real food, it just tends to be empty calories. But, if you learn how to read then you can read menus at restaurants. It will be easier for you to get food that way."
"So I can get more food if I learn how to read. Well, that does sound good, but it's still a lot of work.
"Well, how about we play a game with it? I can use my magic to make some of the things you are reading, help make things interesting."
"That sounds really cool! Could you make a dinosaurs like the ones back by my home, they are really fun to play with, and they taste really good!"
"Dinosaurs?" Levy blinked. "Where did you say you come from?"
"The mountain."
"…Anyway, I can't really make big things like that. What I can make is limited to how much energy I have. I'm not very strong, so I can't really make big objects." She waved her hands to demonstrate. A word formed in the air before forming into a bunny-sized T Rex that gave a squeaky roar and started chasing the ball of light around the table.
"That sounds fun! Why don't we make it a trade? You teach me how to read, and I help you train and get stronger!"
"Really? That sounds great." they shook hands to seal the deal. "So how far have you gotten?"
"We had just gotten the letter w" said Erza.
"Why is it called double-u, when it looks like two v's? Shouldn't it be called double-v?"
"Be quiet Goku."
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Erza smiled as Goku slowly continued to work through new words. When he finally was able to piece together "apple" Levy magically created a few of the red fruits, and the trio enjoyed enjoyed a brief snack break. They ate in silence while watching the antics of Levy's tiny T-Rex. The mini dinosaur had finally caught the ball of light and eaten it, only for the magic of the light to combine with it, causing the lizard to start glowing and moonwalking across the table
When the food was finished, Erza excused herself, leaving the two to their reading lesson she made her way towards the main doors. The red haired girl left the guild and began strolling down the street. As she walked, the smile began to fade from her face. She kept walking for several minutes, finally stopping when she reached the river bank right on the edge of the town. She slowly sat down, curling up into herself, gazing down into the running water.
When she had been on the road, she had bottled everything up, first focusing on survival, then helping her friend. When she was in the guild she just hid how she felt, she didn't want to give anyone any reason to ask about her past. Goku was naïve enough not to question the condition he found her in, and probably didn't even consider it important enough to bother mentioning to anyone else.
But every once in a while, she just needed to find time to be alone. Time to stop holding back, and just let everything go.
Her eyes watered as she thought back to the events at the tower, back to Jellal's betrayal, and the look on the faces of her friends as she was forced to leave them behind to save their lives. Those looks stayed with her, keeping her up at night and haunting her during the day. For the third time since joining the guild months ago, Erza cried.
It was another ten minutes before she collected herself, forcing herself to her feet once more. The mask of calm returned, and the young girl began making her way back towards the guild. As much as it hurt, and as much as she hated herself for not getting the rest of the slave workers out of the tower, she would not allow it to affect her new life. She would mourn her friends, but she would not let her grief control her. There was little she could do to help them. She had new friends now, new people to care about. A new home. No matter what, she would not allow herself to fail twice. She just couldn't.
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"Ice Make: HAMMER!" Gray launched a sledgehammer of ice at the white haired girl, letting out a grunt of anger as she ducked under the blow. The grunt turned into a cry of pain when she dashed forward and landed a hard kick to the gut. He doubled over from the blow, but he was quick to bring his hands back up towards his smirking opponent.
"Ice Make: CANN-urk!" Before he could blink the girl closed the distance, landing a massive punch across his jaw that sent him sprawling on the ground. He slowly tried to rise to his feet, but his arms gave out when she slammed her foot into his back. |
f9bfb6f03fb5478dbfd55c0701abbad8 | ['414cb43a8b8b45a382f840ca5c534518'] | Peggy would never be able to keep this between them. Angie didn’t even know what would happen, but she did know that girls that weren’t right got fixed one way or another and she could never ever let that happen to Peggy. So she waited until Peggy woke up, pulled her hands out of Peggy’s grasp even as Peggy kissed her palms and smile such an uncomplicated smile that it was gonna break Angie’s heart. Then she grabbed her best friend by the shoulders like she always did when she was serious, ducked her head so she was eye to eye with the shorter girl and explained why they could never do that again, never talk about it again, and why it could never happen again even if both of them wanted it more than anything in the world. Peggy surprisingly smiled a gentle smile and agreed, but her eyes told the truth. A truth that maybe they couldn’t say but that made Angie’s knees weak and for the first time made her curse the day she was born a girl or that Peggy was born a girl, because if they were different this would be different.
Things after that were more or less the same, except for Peggy wasn’t good at lying with her eyes, wasn’t good at looking at her like they were just friends, wasn’t good keeping her hands off of Angie’s thighs when they went to the movies. Angie tried not to return any of it, except in the dark, during sleepovers, where once a week she pour everything shouldn’t and couldn’t say through her fingers and her lips, then fell asleep in Peggy’s arms. But they didn’t talk about it. They were rapidly approaching their eighteenth birthdays, graduation, college for Peggy and secretary school for Angie. Angie had part time job at the automat and Peggy cleaned on the weekends for a telephone operator. Peggy wanted to get an apartment, just the two of them closer the women’s college, so it’d be safer walking home at night, and their parents agreed.
-
So here was Angie with the problem, high school girlfriends were close, that was forgivable, but two single girls, living alone, needed to be above reproach and god Peggy’s dark eyes could bring down all sorts of trouble on them. So Angie told Peggy that now that they were eighteen, now that they were on their own, they needed steady beau’s. It’s what girls did. Guy’s to take them out dancing and to the movies. She gave every reason but the real one, guys to throw off the scent. Peggy just smirked and said ‘right’ and then left for work. But Angie was serious, was gonna get a guy, go steady with him, she could do it. She was a much better liar than Peggy Carter.
Angie chose James Barnes for a number a reasons, he had a reputation for being a nice guy, he had a reputation for not wanting to get too serious with his girls, he looked a bit like Peggy if you squinted, but mostly because of Steve, James’ best friend. She chose him because she saw the way the two of them looked at each other when they came into the automat once a week late at night on payday to splurge on a shared piece of pie. Angie suspected they might be in the market for girls to throw off the scent as well. Plus either way it’s not like she had to worry about James falling in love with her.
When she handed him her address and said that he could pick her up on Saturday at 5 pm, James’ eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, and he looked a tiny bit angry, which should could understand, maybe Fridays were special to him and Steve like they were to her and Peggy, or maybe it was just her forwardness, but when else would she see James? She couldn’t wait around forever for him to ask her because if he was gonna he would have months ago. She smoothed it over when she looked at Steve and smiled her warm dimpled grin. Told him about her shy friend Peggy, maybe he’d like to come too, could be a double date. James told her to call him Bucky, and that he and Steve would pick them up at 4 pm for the movies.
~
Bucky and Steve picked the girls up at 4 pm to take them to the movies. Bucky was vaguely unsettled with the directness and forwardness of Angie asking not just him but also Steve out. But was willing to go with it because he liked her, he liked her because every time he and Steve came into the diner she was equally kind and attentive to them both. Bucky hoped her friend was as nice to Stevie as Angie was, because otherwise this was a waste of time. His stomach clenched when he saw Peggy’s sour face when they first came down, but it was baseless worry, because the girl Peggy really did make an effort and by the time they were halfway to the theater Peggy and Steve were three steps ahead chattering about the political climate in Europe.
It was complete reversal of their normal double dates, Peggy and Steve getting on grand while Angie was quiet, walking alongside Bucky as if she wasn’t the one who had asked him out. While making half-hearted conversation she’d glance at her friend and then frown and the conversation would falter.
“You know for being the only girl to ever ask me out first, you’re pretty quiet this evening.” Bucky said, slowing them down a half step to let the other slip just out of earshot.
“Oh” she gave a shaky half laugh and her dimples flashed half-heartedly, “It’s just me and Peggy had a real bad argument just before you came to get us. Sorry not really setting the mood for a date.” | 47a8e64e17a04709ae7e27efeb45ecb0 | ['414cb43a8b8b45a382f840ca5c534518'] | Peggy Carter Goes to War
**Author's Note:**
> No I have not abandoned this story. Just life. This section is mainly filler because for whatever reason it was hard to write.
>
> This series will have maybe three or four more chapters that will and then maybe some slice of life stuff depending on how I'm feeling about where I left it. Hopefully it won't take me another four months to get back to it.
>
> There are vague spoilers in the end notes.
Peggy sat on the train steps, the muggy heat and stench of the city settling uncomfortably but familiar on her skin where it was exposed. The back of her neck, her forearms where she’d rolled up her shirt sleeves, across her face making her feel gross and sweaty. She was heading out to base in Jersey to get her first real SSR assignment, and despite the heat, she could feel the thrum of excitement making it hard to sit still.
One whole year of training, Peggy had had to get better marks than the rest of the men in the class, even with Stark backing her right to be there, but she’d done it. She had outshot, outfought, and outthought every man in the boot camp and so she had the honor of staying. Everyone else's right to join had been finalized by the acceptance into the boot camp, but hers had been stipulated on her being the best. So that's what she'd done.
Her father had been teaching Peggy and Angie to fight from the time they were small, and had always given them little cryptids and puzzles to entertain them. As it turns out the ability to put your opponents down and to think logically were prized in spys, which really made Peggy wonder just what her dad had done during the Great War.
The only fly in the ointment was that Angie was mad, again. Well not mad, just not happy, deeply dissatisfied. Which was understandable. It was. But Peggy wished Angie could see it from her point if view.
Peggy had never wanted to be a secretary or a teacher or a wife or a mother. All through school it had burned under her skin because she knew she could be more, she was more, than the boys sitting next to her. She had always felt too big for her skin in a way that Angie never understood. Not to say that it never rankled her the different expectations but not in the same way that it had for Peggy.
Sometimes during high school it had felt like all Peggy was doing was collecting slights to hold on to, marks that she carried inside of her that made her feel so bitter and angry she could scream. Made her want to rage against the bars that the school and the neighborhood and even her parents placed around her. Home economics was torture, teaching them how to be good wives and mothers as if any of that was ever for Peggy.
There was only one person she could even slightly see herself marry and that would never happen. She'd grow old and die with Angie but Peggy would never be anyone's wife.
So to have the SSR, which yes there was never an even playing field, but to have the chance to be more than just a woman doing woman's work.
It felt like being set free.
It's why she couldn't stop. Even if she felt bad about lying to Angie initially, even if it placed strain on their relationship. Angie was permanent, she'd come around, she'd see how it was, how important this was for Peggy and she'd stop being mad. Peggy had to go, she had to do this for herself.
-
She arrived at the camp on a bus filled with fresh recruits. Volunteers, not drafted men. The one sitting next to her tried to make time, but her cold stare had made him back off, thankfully.
She made her way to General Phillips office, the man she was supposed to report to. According to her assignment she was going to liaison for the 107th infantry division. The National Guard was more put together than any other branch currently aside from perhaps the Navy. They were currently building troop mass in anticipation of America entering the war, there were rumors that any day now Germany and her allies were going to drag the US into the war.
The lieutenant who was acting as the General's assistant acted surprised when she introduced herself as Agent Carter, no doubt surprised she was a woman. General Phillips himself however did not act surprised and treated her with a gruff competence that made Peggy feel secretly delighted.
“Tell me Agent Carter,” He asked, “What did the SSR tell you about Hydra?”
Then he proceeded to tell her all about the Nazi science division and how they were going to use the United States Strategic Scientific Reserve to combat them.
Her first mission, find out how to communicate with a German scientist behind enemy lines named Doctor Erskine.
**Author's Note:**
> This story will follow roughly the Canon Captain America plot. It will get angsty but like I always write happy endings so. Yeah. |
e24108c69cf3430282f0fc5cda4c5dde | ['417f7c28050b425aa54d5ccea041a175'] | > 5a) Darcy has lots of kinks that Steve explored in their four months alone together, and one of those kinks was erotic sexual denial (or orgasm denial), because that leads to a black-out orgasm for her, which she really likes (thus her own willingness to go along with Steve's plan, despite being incredibly frustrated already). I also chatted with someone who likes doing this to get a quick overview of ESD, and she said that the longer she was denied sex, the more powerful her orgasm felt and the longer it took her to wake up, which is where I based Darcy's ESD orgasms on. (She called it ESD, instead of the more common term, so this is me respecting my source. You know who you are ;D)
>
> 5b) Also, we've been going through some of the things on her kink list for a while now (yes, I made an actual list for her), and will continue to do so until the story is concluded. So, YOU'RE WELCOME MY FELLOW PERVERTS! =))
>
> I think that's most of it. If you have any concerns here that you want clarification on, feel free to ask =D
> Hope you liked it (and didn't get squeamish?),
> ~E
7. Chapter 7
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Bucky has a slight crisis of conscience and tries to figure out when exactly in their relationship he had stopped hating Darcy, Darcy gets more orgasms, has her hair washed, and gets an unexpected promise that she might've obsessed about, and nothing goes as Steve plans that day.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> READ THIS FIRST!
>
> Okay, so I have to ask you to give Bucky a break, okay? Because his part is gonna be a little messy and jump around a lot, because hey, none of us can think in a strictly linear manner, and I've kept it as straightforward as I can without ruining that effect, all right?
>
> Anyway, you're going to see (in his very much biased perspective) just how much of a dick he was to Darcy, and how this affects his changing attitude towards her now, as he struggles to reconcile his sudden affection for her after disliking her for so long. Honestly, he really is this confused messed up individual who's got a scared little boy tucked a way somewhere inside him, afraid of losing everything and being left behind, and (if you squint) this chapter's going to show you why (I hope).
>
> That's NOT everything, of course. It'll just be a quick overview, and the way his thoughts are expressed, that's not REALLY the whole picture, it's just him focusing on the worst parts of his opinion of Darcy, because he's subconsciously trying to convince himself of how awful and unworthy he is, blahblahblah.
>
> I'm saying this because, like I said, he's gonna come off as a huge asshole who goes back-and-forth about what he wants and what he thinks should happen, so prepare yourselves, okay?
>
> The Winter Soldier gets no mention, but only because he doesn't do emotions and confusion. There is the mission, and nothing else for him.
>
> BUT, at least Bucky's moving slightly forward with his feelings. Darcy's still stuck with confusion and denial over what's happening T_T
>
> And as for Steve... well, honestly, Steve's part wrote itself, so I dunno. Everybody has off days?
_I shouldn’t want this_.
_I shouldn’t want this_.
_I shouldn’t want this_.
_I shouldn’t want this_.
_I shouldn’t want this_.
But no matter how many times he thinks the words, he can’t quite let go of the girl with her head on his chest, breasts pressed against his ribs and one arm lying on his stomach, the other bent and tucked under his arm. She’s lying between him and Steve for the first time, Steve pressed flush against her back, his arm stretched over her, their hands tangled over his heart.
He always thought that her lying between them would feel wrong, but it doesn’t. It actually feels the same way it felt when Steve had finally joined him in bed again for the first time almost six months ago.
_I shouldn’t want this_ , he think again, but he does. He wants this. He wants _her_.
Not for the first time, he brushes thumb over the mark on her shoulder and feels possessiveness thrum through him. He feels cheated when he thinks of how long she had kept the bite hidden from him—an irrational response, he knows but… but what?
He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand why he feels this way for her, not after so many months of disliking her, of snapping and subtly insulting her. He slapped her ass and called her _doll_ and treated her roughly because he thought of her as… as a _whore_ , and _god_ , he feels _bad_ about it now, but _why does he feel bad about it now?_
He _hated_ her. He’d hated her from the moment he realized what she was to Steve, and he’d wanted to kill her for it. And he would have, he _would have_ if he could, and only didn’t because he didn’t want to lose Steve again, didn’t want to lose his soulmate—the man who saved him on the falling Helicarrier and gave him the means to escape a life of death and orders and HYDRA—over _her_. Steve was _everything_ to him, and she’d taken him, stolen Steve from him, and he wanted to kill her for it, but if killing her meant losing Steve, then he wouldn’t do it. | 1f418188b3eb42e49a12ba1f93f7484f | ['417f7c28050b425aa54d5ccea041a175'] | “Christ,” Steve hisses, taking himself in hand and sliding back into her slick heat, unable to resist either of them when they looked like that.
“Oh _god!”_ Darcy groans loudly.
“Yeah, that’s it, punk,” Bucky rumbles, his eyes bright and feverish. “Fuck our pretty girl right, fuck her tight little cunt and come inside her again.”
Darcy moans and agrees. “Yesyesyes, fuck me, Steve, help him fuck me. Come inside me again, I want to feel you come inside me again while he’s fucking me.”
He grins, feeling just as wild as they both look. “Make me,” he tells her.
Too late, he remembers that Darcy knows him just a little too well, and with an awkward gesture to get her hand down between them, she swirls her fingers over his perineum and makes his world go _white_.
It’s amazing what details you can forget while having fantastic, mind-blowing sex.
“Look at that,” he hears Bucky say from what seems like a distance. “Look what you did, sweetheart. God, he’s coming all over you.” And then Bucky laughs. “I think he passed out.”
“James,” he hears Darcy say a little distantly too, “James, Jamie, baby, fuck, I can’t— I can’t make it, I’m so close but I can’t make it, so close but I can’t make it —”
“Again?” Bucky asks, sounding surprised, and once he realizes what that means, Steve’s surprised too.
“ _Yes_ ,” she hisses. “Yes, again, _please, yes!”_ she wails as he feels Bucky press his hands over her once more. “Fuck me, fuck me harder, fuck me, come inside me, _fuck!”_
Steve finally has the will to open his eyes, and he groans at the sight of them because _good Lord_ , they make such a handsome couple, such a beautiful pair, and he feels so damn _lucky_ to have them both. He bites his lip when he sees he’s painted his seed all over Darcy’s front, stripes of white streaking up her belly and breasts and shoulders, and even her hair. And under the mess he’d left, her face and chest are flushed red with exertion, and she looks absolutely wrecked, thoroughly debauched and unquestionably ravished. Bucky looks much the same, minus the streaks of come.
“You want me to come inside you?” Bucky growls, clearly pleased to hear it. “I thought you wanted me to come on your breasts tonight.”
“Inside me,” she nearly sobs. “Inside me, inside me, inside me, inside me.”
Steve groans at the dialogue, feeling himself twitch in interest _again_ , but he tells himself _no_ , because Darcy doesn’t look like she can keep going any further. Instead, he sits up and reaches between her thighs, pushing Bucky’s hand away to help them both out. “Go on, Buck,” he says, his voice slurring a little. “You heard the lady.”
Bucky swears under his breath and pulls out of her carefully, taking the condom off and dropping it on the towel he’d set side before guiding Darcy onto her back beside Steve and sinking into her again. “Okay?” he asks her as he starts moving against her.
“Yes,” she groans. “No, fuck, I feel empty, _god_.”
Bucky presses a smug smirk into her shoulder and picks up the bottle of lubricant, slathering a decent amount on his fingers before reaching down to pressing them into her ass again. Darcy cries out against his shoulder and raises her hips against him, and Bucky braces himself on his left hand and starts a quick, pointed pace that has Darcy writhing and moaning and yelling and screaming and gushing powerfully within seconds, taking Bucky along with her if his loud “ _Fuck!”_ is anything to go by (which it was).
He smiles as he watches them wind down, Bucky pulling his fingers out of her and sliding his hand up her thigh until he can move his hand under her and roll them over, letting Darcy lay on his chest as she slowly stops shaking and twitching. He scoots down beside them and presses kisses up her arm, pretty much in awe of her at the moment.
“Darcy,” he murmurs, “you okay, sweetheart?”
“God, yes,” she replies, grinning lazily up at him. “Oh my god, that was amazing.”
“You weren’t hurt?” he has to ask.
She shakes her head slightly. “Uh-uh. Was good. All good.” She smirks sleepily. “When can we do it again?”
Bucky starts laughing. “Give us a minute to catch our breath, sweetheart. We’re only super-soldiers, y’know.”
“Wimps,” she grins drowsily.
“He’s speaking for himself,” Steve tells her, leaning in to kiss her. “You were incredible. And perfect. Thank you for that.”
“You talk as if we’re never doing that again,” she murmurs lethargically. “We are, by the way.” She yawns. “After a nap.” She nuzzles her cheek against Bucky’s chest. “And you’re both gonna come inside me next time.”
Bucky scrunches his nose. “You say things like that and we don’t want you to go to sleep anymore.”
“Tough,” she replies, then drops off to sleep.
Steve smiles at her, then moves up to pull his soulmate into a heated kiss. “You were perfect too,” he tells a surprised-looking Bucky, who flushes.
“Shut up and go to sleep,” comes the discomfited reply.
Steve grins and plasters himself against Bucky’s side, closing his eyes and following Darcy’s example.
(And if he wakes up grimacing because of sticky sheets, well, they could always move things to the bathroom.)
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Here's the LINK, for those who want it. I HAVE made it before, but never used it myself. The batch we (my cousin, the body butter-user) made turned out pretty good, so this is a pretty useful recipe to keep a hold of. *wink wink*
11. Chapter 11
**Summary for the Chapter:** |
a0cf017af71548dbbc001f444ecc7132 | ['41849b762fd9460aa2d7cfc3e8f0973b'] | Sharp
**Author's Note:**
> Knifeplay written at the request of a friend. Originally posted to Tumblr. Moved for archive.
It’s so very hard to breathe like this, with nothing above her but the stars – and one star that’s more important than all the rest. A star with blue eyes and dark hair that matches the rest of the sky. A star that lives every detail of life with such ferocity and intensity that sometimes Gabrielle is taken aback. Even now. Even after what seems like years of this.
“Do you trust me?”
It’s not an idle question. Gabrielle swallows down another breath of air, her eyes searching Xena’s face frantically. The other woman’s smile is a bright glimmer in the shadows with just a glint of teeth betraying the edge to her words. Gabrielle catches the shine of something silver gleaming between them – a sharp edge to match Xena’s sharp smile. It’s almost a dare. Gabrielle’s eyes take in the length of the dagger in the other woman’s hand. It’s slight, but sharp.
Gabrielle knows from experience. She knows that just a stroke can kill a man, if Xena uses it right. If Xena wants to use it right.
Gabrielle’s gaze lifts to Xena’s face almost defiantly. “You know I trust you.”
“Well then.” It’s as snarky of a comeback as the other woman can make in that moment. Gabrielle recognizes the flash of lust she sees in those brilliantly blue eyes. Xena’s difficult to read sometimes, but not like this. At least not now. There had been a time, long ago, where she hadn’t known how to discern the other woman’s moods. Lust was so easily mistaken for anger back then. But not now. She knows Xena’s face like the back of her hand. She knows each tiny detail and how it shifts with her reactions. And right now, Xena _wants_.
The cold feeling of metal tapping against her breast bone makes Gabrielle’s breath catch sharply. The contact is light. Careful. But intentional too. One slip of the hand and Xena could cut her. But Xena won’t make that mistake. No, if she does it, it will be completely intentional. Gabrielle’s eyes slide shut on a shudder, her body trembling when she feels the blade slide smoothly up to caress her cheek.
“ _Xena_.” Her voice breaks on a crack, and she can feel more than see the slightly pleased smile that slides across Xena’s lips. And then those deliciously curved lips are against her own, pressing the lightest of kisses there. It’s in complete counterpoint to the sharp fear of having metal against her skin, and yet erotic even still. Xena is warm against her, the feeling of leather more annoying now and less erotic.
Gabrielle wants _skin_.
“Please,” she whispers, a soft sound breaking free from her throat when the knife moves again. Gabrielle gazes up at Xena, torn open and raw and vulnerable. The other woman wears an expression of infinite tenderness coupled with the dark desire in those eyes. There’s an almost indiscernible sound – a soft _hiss_ – as Gabrielle feels the pressure of the dagger being applied. There’s a line of soft stinging between her breasts, and the fabric of her shirt loses some of its tension.
Gabrielle gasps but doesn’t move. Xena smiles a little and then leans down, nuzzling lightly where it stings the most. She feels Xena’s lips like a shock, soft and warm and moist against skin open to the air. The subtle lick of her tongue has Gabrielle whimpering, legs shakily shifting when she feels cool metal against the inside of one thigh. It’s too much. Too hot, too tight, too tense. She’s shaking so badly –
“Don’t _move_ ,” Xena orders, her tone as sharp as the edge of the dagger. Gabrielle freezes with an obedience that’s unparalleled to any of her responses in the light of day. The tip of the dagger dances higher, following the tender skin and dragging the fabric of her skirt up, up, _up_ …
A light touch where she’s most sensitive has Gabrielle gasping loudly and jerking. But it’s not sharp. It’s soft and knowing, circling where she likes it best. Relief and arousal wash over her jointly, making her quiver so hard. Xena’s working harder now, sweet pressure that has Gabrielle calling out and shivering and freezing like stone. She pulls a gasp of air now and then, almost forgetting to breathe until Xena reminds her in that sweet way that she adores. _Breathe, Gabrielle, breathe, my darling…_
It’s too much. Gabrielle’s body goes tight and still, hands gathering and twisting in Xena’s dark hair long ago. It’s that way for just a moment before pulsing light finally lets her fall. She dips with the wave of one shock at a time, each pulse sweeter and softer than the last. Until it’s just her and Xena again, laying under the trees with the fire cracking in the background. Gabrielle distantly recognizes that she’s still shivering, fingers trembling as they trace the delicate cheekbones of Xena’s face.
Xena’s looking down at her, concern making her features tight. “Are you alright?”
Gabrielle lets out a choked laugh, reaching up with one hand to wipe back her bangs. “You’re crazy. But I’m fine.” | 1a83b9e6947e42b2b5ce1efc4da31274 | ['41849b762fd9460aa2d7cfc3e8f0973b'] | Half
**Author's Note:**
> Written for a friend. Originally posted to Tumblr and moved for archive.
“I beg your pardon, James, but my ability to comprehend why we are here is a little —”
Kirk frowned slightly, turning to glance over his shoulder at Spock, whose words, he found, were suddenly at a stand-still. It was happening more often these days, his sudden inability to complete his sentences. Most disturbing, really. Spock had taken to investigating the sudden malady, trying to derive the reasoning behind such a preposterous habit. But all his attempts to dig to the solution were often interrupted by the same individual who seemed to cause the fits that resulted in his lapse of vocabulary in the first place.
“I told you, Spock,” Kirk said, quirking a sudden grin and waiting for his second-in-command to catch up with his steady pace. The building they approached appeared sterile and clean from the outside. But Kirk knew that once they came through the door, the smells and sounds of an adoption kennel would soon overwhelm them. Adoption was the best course to go in an instance like this anyway. No point in ignoring those that needed a home already.
“Yes, but your explanation was a bit vague.” Spock’s expression seemed to change the moment they were entering the low building, a strange shifting of his features that had Kirk’s eyes twinkling in mirth. “A kennel?”
“That’s what people _do_. Get animals together. I was thinking a cat. You seem more the cat type anyway.”
“James, the probability of being able to properly care for an animal whilst aboard the—”
But Kirk, it seemed, wasn’t listening. Spock was hardly surprised. His captain seemed to excel at not paying attention. Even so, he trailed after his best friend in a cloud of vague disinterest. Any attempts from Kirk at rousing a certain level of participation went unanswered. It was disheartening to say the least. No matter what kind of cat Kirk presented, Spock reiterated his stance on the matter - the cost, the responsibility, the time. No matter if it was short or long-haired, trained or otherwise. Spock was firm.
Kirk was on the verge of giving up. He’d turned from the last grown cat in the kennel, only to see Spock stooped over a larger cage - one that held a litter of very small black and white kittens. For a moment, Kirk was shocked. Because there - written across his friend’s face - was almost an expression of softness. Kirk didn’t see it very often. Not in the light of day.
“This one,” Spock said suddenly, pointing with his index finger at the smallest kitten in the large litter. The kitten was asleep in the corner away from the others, one half of its body splashed in brilliant white and the other half in deep black. “The statistical probability that it would survive without our care is immensely low. And it’s…” Another strange expression, this one that Kirk didn’t recognize.
Kirk pressed a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “What, Spock?”
“Like me,” the Vulcan finished, and his expression became closed off once more. Kirk didn’t have to ask.
_Half._
“This one,” Kirk responded firmly, and reached into the cage to lift the tiny kitten into his broad arms. ”Good choice, Spock. Good choice.” |
909d8411cae44f0686a83c7282aceabd | ['41944158df6e447799ba3aab2a0c9e2f'] |
Pray
**Author's Note:**
> So. I did a thing. And I tried to make it sad, but it ended up being fluff. I'm such a fuckin sap. Anyway, this is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes!
Sometimes Sam prayed.
It wasn't important. It was just…a thing.
A thing he, very pointedly, didn't tell Dean.
Most nights, it was when Dean was out at a bar. Getting drunk. Picking up a chick.
Sam grimaced. Picking up a chick, more than likely. A chick that would be able to know Dean in the one way Sam didn't. He used to be angry at these women, the ones that were so much better than him, the ones that could give Dean what Sam couldn't. But now, after Stanford, after Jess, after Dad—he couldn't bring himself to hate them. It was just another way he wasn't good enough for his big brother.
So Sam prayed.
"God," and he said the name like a swear word, almost, "I just wanted to, uh. Check in. I'm still down here, you know."At this he chuffed a short, pseudo-cynical laugh.
"Please help Dean," he blurted, in a rush of hot breath. "Give him what—give him the life he wants." Sam's voice cracked. "Please, please help me be good enough for him. I just want to be good enough."
Sam closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of their hotel-of-the-week.
"I want to be good enough for him. And he's—he's so good. I love him so much. Please, just let him love me."
Sam was talking out-loud now, his reverent whisper escalating. "He's so good. If there's anyone up there watching out for us, you know…"
And he broke off. Leaned forward and cried into his knees. Didn't bother saying amen, because what the fuck was the point anymore. No one was listening. Sam felt like a small child in the midst of the universe, a small child with big dreams that wouldn't come true.
This wasn't a normal occurrence. Normally, Sam would choke something out about helping through the bad before giving up, face burning with embarrassment. But he always valiantly tried again, the next time he had a few minutes to himself.
True to the un-normalcy of the night, Sam was mistaken when he assumed no one was listening.
Dean, these days, didn't much like the one night stands that used to come so natural to him. It felt…wrong, somehow. It just wasn't him anymore. He felt too old to be picking up chicks in a bar like some stupid teenager.
He sat at the bar, had one beer that he nursed until about ten, and then gave up and headed for the Impala.
Dean was just in time to hear his brother's quiet, tearstained monologue to heaven. He hovered in the doorway, chest siezing in pain. There was a giant size-thirty boot dancing a fucking jig on his heart.
It was dark in the room, no lights on, but a streetlight outside the one window in the room cast stripes across Sam. He was a dark shape on the other side of the far bed, head buried in his knees, back pressed up against the ugly wallpaper.
The most prevalent question, in Dean's mind, was What the fuck do I do?
Somewhere, a voice that sounded a lot like his mom told him to go and help Sam like a good big brother. Tell him that he was good enough, that he was a better man than Dean would ever be, could ever hope to be.
Some other part of him, sounding like his dad in the same way the other sounded like Mary, told him to turn around and let Sam deal with it. Don't complicate shit. Sammy was a big boy, and could take care of himself. Let him go on a bender, maybe gank a couple monsters with more force than was necessary to let out some of the pent-up emotions. Let it go.
Mary, forever the angel on Dean's shoulder, won.
"Sam," Dean whispered across the darkness. He reached to turn on the light, but it was a weird-ass hotel room with the light switch somewhere else, so he gave up altogether on it.
Sam looked up, his face looking a lot like he was six and had thought he lost one of Dean's favorite toys. He'd made this whole plan to run away instead of facing Dean and John about it. Dean had found him within minutes, and he was a mess, with his eyes all red-rimmed and tears streaking across his childish face.
Twenty years later, and Sam could still pull the same goddamn broken look.
Of course, as soon as he saw Dean, Sam started to withdraw. He hid behind his hair and pulled his knees closer, his expression guarded despite the fact that Dean could very obviously see him crying.
Dean was across the room in about three steps. "Sammy," he said, hoping Sam would tell him his name's not Sammy, it's Sam. He didn't. Instead, he flinched back, like he thought Dean would hit him or something.
Something broke inside Dean, and that giant boot was stomping the remains of his already-crushed heart. He couldn't find words, so he crouched down and reached for Sam, slowly, giving him every chance to push him away, tell him to fuck off, so Dean could pull him over and into his lap. They hadn't sat like this since they were very young, but of course Sam fit perfectly into him, like he was special-made for Dean's arms. Sam sniffed and made a little noise in the back of his throat.
"You're good enough, Sam," was the first thing Dean chose to address. "You're good. You're perfect." To punctuate his point, Dean stroked a hand down Sam's back, then back up over his hair, stopping to hold his brother's head to Dean's chest. | 7c513911afce4d75b3567c1886448ca6 | ['41944158df6e447799ba3aab2a0c9e2f'] | "Not," and he sniffled a little, "not good enough for you, not ever," Sam whispered, voice strained.
Dean's stomach churned. Where the hell was this coming from? Sam was always the better one, the one destined for better things, the—hell, the good one. "Sammy, no, I'm not—you're just biased," and it was true. Sam had put Dean on some kind of pedestal in his mind, probably. "You're worth everything I give you, and more. I love you, man." Sam stiffened under Dean's hands. He swallowed thickly, his tears making everything too-hot, too-sticky. Taking this as some kind of sign, Dean plowed forward with his giant chick flick speech. "I love you, so much—God, you're everything to me. I'm not me without you, Sammy."
Before he was even getting out the last syllables, Sam was crying again. Full-on, like there was no tomorrow, crying.
This, with good reason, scared Dean. He hadn't seen Sam cry like this when Jess died, not when Dad died, not even when he saw Dean again after hell.
"I j-just, I'm sorry," he managed, between sobs.
"Why?" Dean tried to keep the panic out of his voice, stroking Sam's hair with one hand and pulling his knees close with the other. This way Sam's head was right over Dean's heart; it was the only way that would calm him down when he was a baby. Not even Dad had been able to quiet him like Dean could.
"For-r this. For everything. I—I just keep hurting you, and myself, all because of—"
"Sam, what?" Maybe the heart thing wasn't such a good idea, because it was pounding with panic. Surely Sam could feel it.
"I just fucking love you, okay," Sam blurted into Dean's shirt. Dean opened his mouth to ask what the fuck that meant, but Sam beat him to it. "I mean, I'm sick, Dean. Really fucking sick. For wanting you like that. And I know the studies, how wrong and fucked-up it is, and—"
"Whoa, whoa, there, Sammy. Slow down." Internally, different parts of him switched places. The part that was panicking about _oh god what if Sam sold his soul or did something or is in trouble oh god oh god_ stepped down, took a back seat. The part that was panicking about _oh god I'm in love with my stupid fucking baby brother oh god oh god_ slid smoothly to the forefront of his mind. "It's okay."
Sam made a sound that was probably a sarcastic laugh. "No, it so isn't, Dean."
"It is," Dean insisted.
Sam picked his head up to look at Dean, see if his brother could possibly mean—
There was this look of total adoration on Dean's face, softer thanks to the lack of lighting in the room. It was too much, so much love conveyed through the set of his mouth, the way his eyes stayed steadily on Sam's face, no trace of hesitation. Sam's tears began to dry. "God, Dean—you—"
"Shh. It's okay, Sammy. I've got you." And he did. Dean had his brother, right where he belonged.
Sam prayed for different reasons after that night.
**Author's Note:**
> COMMENTS ARE LOVE COMMENTS ARE LIFE
>
> Because I'm thinking of continuing this somehow and idk if I should. COMMENT YOUR OPINIONS, KIND BEANS |
057166aa65a244329b4da400643c417d | ['419804919c5f4d54adc7664f55f5b6ff'] | His love
**Author's Note:**
> “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone”
> (Aragorn and Arwen LOTR). MERLIN FEELS!
> Well, I'm not a native speaker but I needed to put my feelings somewhere… I wrote this after I saw 5x12, and later, well, the final episode killed me. Just a bit... But it was so beautiful that, even though it was heartbreaking, I'm still in love with this show.
His love is endless,
like their destiny,
it has no beginning, no end,
it is bound to his body like the blood in his veins.
His love is fearless,
like their brave hearts,
it is huge like a dragon,
and it burns bright in the dark.
His love is pure,
like their intentions,
because they make mistakes,
and they are selfish and human,
but their hearts have always fought for what is right, just and fair.
His love is platonic,
like the dreams of an ancient greek,
it makes him feel and breathe and cry,
it brings him to his knees and hurts him sometimes.
His love is beautiful,
like the eyes of his king,
it lights his face and makes him smile,
it makes his soul fly a little bit every time.
His love is painful,
like being burnt alive,
it makes him fragile and strong,
it makes him miserable and blissful.
His love is endless,
like the stars in the sky,
like the lies he’s told,
like the weight of the prophecies,
like the magic in his body and the will in his core. | 921551c0bed74c7a8cb017a076f218b7 | ['419804919c5f4d54adc7664f55f5b6ff'] | Hostage
**Author's Note:**
> Short ficlet inspired by the song Hostage by Billie Eilish and also by the mad chaos in Venezuela at the moment. Sometimes writing a sad fic about your favourite pairing is the only way to deal with your emotions. Feedback is always welcomed.
He's afraid the world is going to end.
There's chaos on the streets and food is for the rich.
The war is an infinite sound that whispers in their ears and claims for their blood.
He wants to steal his heart and hide it in his suffering chest.
He hugs him every morning before the two of them have to face the battle outside their room.
He wants to keep him inside the ephemeral minutes they share when the sun runs away, when the light lets itself be conquered by the darkness of the planet.
He wants to feed him until his belly is full of love and not just empty crumbs of bread and soup, he's the plate he needs to keep nourished or he'll perished out of worry.
They are warriors fighting a system that has destroyed their youth but he only wants to lay down and squeeze his legs, caress his back and take his breath away after he's given him all the energy he has inside his veins.
He wants him.
All of him.
Not only the broken pieces left to die.
Not only the scars that decorate his tired hands.
Not only his deep brown eyes that cry when nobody is around.
He doesn't let him love him enough to take his soul to a safe place.
But at times like those, he only wants to hold him like a prisoner.
Crawl inside his brain and make him obey. Allow his hurt talk for hours and lick his wounds until they heal.
Let him stay forever inside their walls. Dream together of a better future and never face the violent kiss of Death.
"Tetsurou, let me go," Daichi said with a sigh. "We have to keep moving."
And he lets him go, knowing that Daichi is not his hostage.
Because Kuroo knows he's the one that's trap inside the golden cage in Daichi's mind.
He holds his love like a hostage all the time, anyway. |
b2b1f3dbb2b34449a667e6f2a27d1236 | ['41ad6f5c2e6f4b7d947180d32d05420f'] | Sebastian knew it, he wasn’t an idiot. He could hear Ciel with no words. Something new he didn’t realize he’d be invested long enough to notice. As he made his favorite boy dance under the strings he just loved to pluck and tangle, he noticed a lot of new yet old things here. There was passion, far too much of it to be ignored. Not enough greed, not enough lust. He didn’t like it. Destruction was imminent but here he was, feeding more into it. A blind sense of trust and blatant desire were clouding his judgement too much for his liking.
_Neck, gaze, harder._
They couldn’t keep doing this, their body language shouted at each other as a warning almost every single night after every one of these stupid little get-togethers. What did any of it even mean? They were always together and for what? A meaningless fuck and just to be fucking ignored? It had to fucking stop.
_Shudder, arms, pleasure, tears?_
* * *
_Eight months invested:_
Sebastian stared up at the ceiling, completely drained and slightly annoyed. He told himself it would never get this far, that it was all just casual and that there wouldn’t ever be feelings, that this was just a temporary, short term thing. It was only supposed to be a quick fix for the two of them, nothing more.
What an absurd idea for him to think that was going to be possible.
He felt Ciel stir and looked down at him; his head was resting on his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around his torso. Sebastian remembered the days where they would fall asleep on opposite ends of the bed, facing opposite directions, and look at them now. It was almost like they were a couple; how dangerous.
"Mmm sorry," Ciel mumbled, nuzzling into Sebastian's chest.
"Shh it's fine," Sebastian replied, smoothing out Ciel's blue hair.
"But–"
"It's late, go back to sleep," Sebastian crooned softly.
"Okay," Ciel said quietly.
A soft sigh escaped Sebastian's lips as he wrapped his arms around Ciel. He could almost feel Ciel’s headache and internal frustration. He shouldn't be annoyed with Ciel and he shouldn't be annoyed with himself. They were only human, and heaven forbid either of them have emotions.
Honestly Sebastian was surprised this hadn’t happened sooner. They couldn’t live like this for too long. A few sporadic hook-ups was one thing, but making the conscious decision to be with other almost all the time. That was something different.
That's what lust did to people–it clouded judgement. Who cared about all of that emotional and moral crap? All that mattered was that it felt good to the both of them. Fast, easy, consensual sex was all that mattered to Ciel and Sebastian. Ciel tried not to care about how alive Sebastian's touch and embrace made him feel; all that mattered was that the sex was good. Sebastian tried not to care about just how blissful Ciel looked, or the way he would make loving eye contact with him as he tugged at his hair and arched his back; all that mattered was that it felt good.
Looking back at it, it was never pure lust for the sake of getting off. Maybe the first few times where they were too hammered to care and looking for a quick fuck, but even then they always ended up with each other as opposed to some stranger.
"Are you sure it's okay?" Ciel asked softly.
"Yeah, it's fine. We can talk about it in the morning," Sebastian reassured, rubbing Ciel's arms.
"I feel bad," Ciel said simply.
"For what? Being human?"
Ciel shrugged, "I just feel like you're mad at me."
"I'm not mad at you Ciel. I promise."
* * *
_Eight months and two weeks:_
The night had started out like any other. Both absolutely completely drunk. His hands, oh god, Ciel’s hands. They were in Sebastian’s hair, on his chest, on his cock. Ciel’s lips were on his neck pulling him under his spell. As he breathed his vodka stained kiss, Ciel was all around him, and fuck he was in his veins, heart, and brain. He was everywhere and Sebastian knew he was falling hard.
“Baby babe bae…” Sebastian murmured, pulling Ciel closer.
“Hmmm what,” Ciel mumbled back, still playing with Sebastian’s hair.
“How much longer do you want to stay here?”
“However long you want to,” Ciel replied, kissing the base of Sebastian’s jaw.
God, this must have looked so dodgy. They were in the back room of the club and Ciel was on his lap, almost as if he was giving him a private show. He kind of was, he was putting on the best act of his life, unsure of when the curtain was going to close.
Sebastian slid his hand under Ciel’s shirt, up his waist and back, feeling the goosebumps rise across his heated skin. “But I want to know when you want to go,” Sebastian replied.
“We can go now,” Ciel said softly.
“No rush babe,” Sebastian said, dancing his fingers along Ciel’s back, tickling him, maybe even poking at Ciel’s heart.
“Then why ask?” Ciel retorted, arching his back slightly.
Sebastian glanced up at Ciel and smirked at him. “Because I like to hear what you have to say, and I like it when you get snippy with me.”
“Shut up, I’ll make you swallow that confidence.”
“You always say that and you still haven’t,” Sebastian said with a smug grin.
“Let’s go now,” Ciel pressed, grinding his hips into Sebastian’s.
“If you say so darling.”
With hazy steps from the back of the club, the two stumbled into the night air. Sebastian thought he had his hand firmly wrapped around Ciel’s waist but he seemed so far away, distant even. He knew he was right next to him but it was almost as if they were on two different wavelengths.
“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked softly. | f45b8b43ab204df6b0410a6f4915db14 | ['41ad6f5c2e6f4b7d947180d32d05420f'] |
The Weather Outside is Frightful But Inside it's Rather Delightful
The knock on his door comes at half past nine, and Sebastian seriously considers not getting up to answer. He just got himself comfortable again, having gotten up to put on another movie, get more tea, and burying himself under the heap of blankets, but he figures that no one would brace this weather and get to his door if it wasn't important. The wind is howling outside and the rain is smattering against the windows; Sebastian had to turn the volume up during the last movie to even be able to hear what they said.
He slips a little on the floor due to the lack of friction between his socks and the floorboards, but manages to right himself before he falls. He walks over to the door and opens it, prepared to snarl at whoever's there, but the words die in his mouth when he takes in what's in front of him.
A soaked Ciel Phantomhive is standing on his doorstep, arms wrapped tight around himself and teeth clattering.
"Hhi," he stutters. "Ssorry, II managed tto get locked oout of the office, aand my keeys and phone and I was the last one, aand everyone else live tooo far aaway and—"
He doesn't get any further before Sebastian grabs his arm and drags him into the apartment, somewhat roughly.
"Stay here," he says, turning around and walking through his apartment to the bathroom, getting towels and taking a quick look at himself in the mirror. He looks exactly like he expected like a mess. He drags a hand through his hair and sighs. At least it's not like Ciel is at the top of his game tonight, either.
When he gets back to the hall, Ciel is standing exactly where he left him, arms still wrapped around himself. His teeth have stopped clattering, at least. Sebastian throws a towel on his head and drapes another around his shoulders, even though it's completely pointless. Ciel needs to get out of his wet clothes and into dry ones if he's ever going to get warm again.
Nothing wrong with Sebastian getting to take care of him for a few minutes, though.
"I'm really sorry," Ciel says when Sebastian starts to gently rub his hair dry. "I know we're still— I don't want to presume, or anything, but my Metro card was in my bag and you're the only one who lives somewhat within walking distance of my office and I couldn't call but—"
"Ciel," Sebastian interrupts. "It's okay. Do I look like I had any plans for tonight?" He nods down to his sweatpants and the maroon sweater with an S on it he bought from a Harry Potter convention some years back. Ciel follows his gaze and takes him in for the first time since he arrived, raising an eyebrow.
"Is that a Weasley sweater?" he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Sebastian rubs his head with a little more force than necessary, but not enough to hurt.
"Shut up. As I said, I wasn't expecting company."
Sebastian and Ciel had been dating for five weeks. They had been slowly getting to know each other, without the animosity from high school looming between them, and it's been really nice that far. There had been coffee dates, movie dates, dinner at Sebastian's apartment, a night at Sebastian's apartment, but they're still—new. Tentative.
While Sebastian wasn't expecting company, he certainly had considered calling Ciel and asking him if he wanted to come over and wait out the storm together. Sebastian wasn’t particularly fond of this kind of weather and he had a strange feeling that the power was going to go out sometime during the night, and he wouldn’t mind Ciel’s body, although small and usually colder than his, next to him. Not that he would have phrased it like that if he'd actually asked Ciel, but that was the essence of it.
So he really didn’t mind that Ciel decided to randomly pop up.
"Come on," he says. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes." Ciel meets his eyes briefly and swallows, opens his mouth to say something, but Sebastian can guess what it is and continues before he can get a word out. "You know where the shower is. I'll get you some clothes and put on some more tea. Or do you want coffee?"
Ciel closes his mouth and breathes out, relaxing. "Tea is fine," he says. "Thanks."
And because Sebastian is Sebastian, he pulls Ciels in by the ends of the towel hanging across his shoulders and kisses him, trying not to yelp when he feels how cold Ciel's lips are against his own. He smirks when he pulls away, leans in to whisper in Ciel's ear.
"And later, we'll get you out of the dry clothes." Then he tugs on the towel, sending Ciel off into the direction of the bathroom, ignoring the glare he knows is aimed at the back of his head.
—
Ciel comes into the kitchen just as Sebastian pulls the tea bags out of the water. He's still rubbing his hair with a towel and his skin is red and flushed from the heat of the water. He's dressed in a pair of Sebastian's pajama pants and a grey, soft washed Henley that's way too big on him. He spreads his arms to his sides, to show a chuckling Sebastian just how huge the shirt is. |
7cfafba1ef44422abfe0f50443c0a915 | ['41c32ef290fc4cd98c7961afa6131b23'] |
baby, it’s okay
**Author's Note:**
> hyunjin loves kkami so much and it’s the cutest thing in the world
stray kids was in australia for vacation; after promotions, jyp had allowed to relax for a bit so they had all decided to travel to felix and chan’s hometown: sydney, australia. they didn’t have any concerts, performances, filming, or comebacks to worry about so the members were finally able to relax and have fun. all the members loved traveling to different countries even if they were busy on the trip and had to promote; it was a chance to meet their international fans and explore new places. but despite hyunjin’s love for traveling, he didn’t like the homesickness he felt being away from his dog, kkami, for too long. the trip to australia was longer than usual: ten days instead of just three or four days like they normally spent.
hyunjin didn’t want to tell the members how homesick he was feeling and how much he missed kkami. it was stupid and unimportant; they were finally on vacation and here he is pouting over how much he misses his dog. the members would think he was stupid for it and he didn’t want them to think that. and even though hyunjin doesn’t like hiding things from the members (chan had made hyunjin promise to tell him or the any of the other members whenever something was wrong or hyunjin needed help — “tell hyung whenever something’s wrong, okay baby? don’t try to hide it” chan had told him after he had attempted to keep his injury from his hyungs, but they had found out anyway). but hyunjin is convinced that the members wouldn’t care about him missing his dog so it isn’t like they need to worry about him. he’s never told the members about how he misses kkami everytime they travel out of the country and they’ve never seemed like they’d noticed so he continues to avoid telling them. all the members know how much he loves his dog — he has an entire photo album on his phone with tons of cute photos of kkami which he loves to scroll through. the members are all aware of hyunjin’s love for his dog, but none of them know how sad he gets whenever he’s away from his dog for too long.
but now it’s nighttime on the seventh day of their trip and he’s alone in his hotel room getting ready for bed. being alone in the room only makes hyunjin more sad since normally either someone in his group or kkami is in the room with him. he deals with it though and falls asleep with a frown on his face.
when he wakes up the next morning, he’s happy at least until he realizes that the room is empty; no kkami and no members— he's the only person in it. and it shouldn’t be a big deal for hyunjin to be alone, but he’s so used to having a roommate and kkami that it’s a new experience whenever he’s alone— usually he cuddles with someone if he’s lonely. he doesn’t mind being alone for a couple nights but he doesn’t like it if it happens for too long, like now when he’s been sleeping alone for seven days in a row. and waking up already feeling sad only means that the rest of his day won’t be as good as he had hoped. he gets through the day with a little pout on his lips.
just then, chan walked into the room, “hyunjin, you seemed sad today. you wanna talk about it?” it's not unusual for hyunjin to sometimes get sad, but he’s never really been sad while on vacation before, so it’s only natural that the other members had noticed.
“i’m not sad,” hyunjin lies, even though he’s clearly pouting.
“jinnie, i can tell that you’re lying to me. come on, you can tell me anything.”
“i don’t wanna talk about it,” hyunjin mumbles, causing the leader to be worried and concerned about hyunjin. his normally incredibly cute and happy dongsaeng who was always full of laughter was now quiet and sad and looked like he was on the verge of crying.
“hyunjinnie, tell hyung what’s wrong,” chan tries to persuade once again.
“no! stop it! nothing's wrong,” hyunjin whines in refusal.
“hyunjin, i’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”
after a few moments of silence, hyunjin finally works up the courage to tell him. “kkami” he only says the single word, but it’s enough for the leader to understand.
“you miss kkami?” chan asks. hyunjin nods, his expression full of sadness.
“come on” he says holding his arms open for hyunjin and pulling him into a hug, “it’s okay, jinnie”.
“hyung, i don’t like to be away from kkami for so long” hyunjin admits.
“i know you miss your puppy, but it’s okay. hyung’s here for you. and we’re gonna come back to korea in a few days and you can see kkami again.”
“but i want to cuddle and kiss kkami right now!” he whines, clearly missing the excited puppy who always ran to him for hugs and kisses, which hyunjin was always willing to provide.
“jinnie, we can't go back to korea now. besides, don’t you want to be here on vacation having fun and spending time with all your members?”
“... yeah, but i still want kkami.”
“i know baby, i know you want kkami to be here,” chan says, a little unsure about how he should comfort his sad dongsaeng, but his words and his comforting hugs seem to be enough for hyunjin who yawns and continues to lean into his hyung’s chest like he’s about to fall asleep in chan’s arms.
“hyunjinnie, it’s getting late, so we should go to sleep. you wanna cuddle with hyung?” chan asks, knowing that his dongsaeng always loved cuddling with his members (which is why hyunjin always comes into one of the member’s room to cuddle at least once every week).
hyunjin nods, as expected. “hyunjin, you have to get off of me. neither of us can lay down if you’re still sitting on my lap.”
and hyunjin may or may not have whined a little bit before standing up and allowing chan to lay down. hyunjin curls right next to chan, who wraps an arm around him. it doesn’t take long for hyunjin to fall asleep and chan notices and smiles at his cute little dongsaeng.
“night jinnie, i love you” he whispers and kisses hyunjin’s forehead. and even though the wish for kkami is still there, he at least knows that his hyung understands him and will be there for him if he wants to cuddle or cry again.
later in the night, chan may or may not have snuck out of the bed (while making sure that hyunjin didn’t wake up) just to lay a plushy next to hyunjin and give him another kiss on the forehead. | 2d784e1667294731a7130d1fd5c2d434 | ['41c32ef290fc4cd98c7961afa6131b23'] |
stress, tears, and cuddles
being leader is stressful especially if the group has eighteen members. however, usually when things get a little too hectic, his members are there to help him. but in times like these, his members are all busy and tired and don’t notice the heavy responsibilities taeyong is struggling to carry. it doesn’t help that taeyong never tells them when something is wrong (for fear of worrying them or being a burden), even though the members or more specifically taeil and johnny have repeatedly told him that he needs to tell them if something’s wrong or if he’s sick or injured or if he just needs help.
both johnny and taeil were people that taeyong felt safe with; he knew they would help whenever he, or any of the other members, needed it. he could confide with them in a way that he couldn’t with the others. he knew they would be there to hold onto him and be his anchor any time he was struggling and whenever things were just too difficult for him to handle. taeil was his hyung and was always there to take care of him whenever he needed it. taeil would give him medicine whenever he was sick, would make sure he ate three meals a day, would make sure that he wasn’t overworking himself, and would overall take care of taeyong’s well being. johnny wasn’t necessarily his hyung (considering they were both born in the same year) but he was older by five months and that was enough for him to feel like johnny’s dongsaeng. johnny was much taller than taeyong, which always made him feel so protected and safe. johnny would always wrap him in his arms and allow him to cuddle and sit on his lap, even though it sometimes made him feel like a baby. taeyong would never say it but he loved the way johnny made him feel so safe even when everything was going wrong and the way taeil was always so caring over his health, both physically and mentally.
and now is one of the rare occasions that everything’s just too much for taeyong, but the other members fail to notice his happiness deteriorating.
nct 127 is practicing for simon says and it’s at this moment that he doesn’t feel like he can handle all the stress that comes with being the leader of a ten member subunit (and the unofficial leader of eighteen), especially during comeback season when they’re all stressed over all the music shows they’re performing in and whether or not people would like their new songs. taeyong always tries taking that stress off his members, allowing them to relax and have fun, which was beneficial to his members but had the opposite result for him. he was now putting all the responsibilities of the group onto his shoulders and it was obviously too much but he refused to lean on the others for help, which turned out to be a bad idea.
the pressure just builds on top of him as each second passes and he feels like they don’t have enough time and their dance isn’t perfect yet. he finds flaws in nearly everything; their dancing isn’t clean enough, the moves are sloppy, the song isn’t good enough, and the singing and rapping isn’t perfect.
we’re not improving. nctzens won’t like us anymore. the music show performance will go terribly and we’ll mess up as much as we did at practice. it’s my fault; i should’ve helped all of them more so they could be as good as possible. all of this is my fault. mine. it’s none of the others’ faults.
it’s too much for him to handle by himself and he knows he’s going to eventually break but he can’t let the others know (if they knew, then they would only worry about him , so he walks out. he leaves without a single warning because internally he can feel the tension inside of him and knows it’s a matter of time before he can’t hold it in anymore. he feels the tears about to drop but he holds them for as long as he can, until he’s out of the room and away from the eyes of all his members. and the second he’s out, the tears he had held in begin to fall and he’s leaving the entire building and running to his bedroom. it’s comforting and it’s a routine for him to go there when he can’t handle the rest of the world.
he cries the entire way home, somehow not crashing into anyone or anything as tears continuously fill his eyes. when he’s finally inside of the dorm, he practically sprints to his room and falls upon his bed. he cries into his pillow and grabs a plushie from across the room on johnny’s bed. he needs the comfort from it while he cries in the pillow and hugs the plushie. tears stain the pillow but he can’t bring himself to stop crying and somehow every time he calms himself down enough to stop crying, his mind traces back to everything that happened and another sob escapes. |
52b45fa80fac43628691a80a6be7268f | ['41e345ce515c42c4bbc408204488451d'] | “Oh.” She feels her chest get warm and fuzzy. She tries to hide her burning face in Ray’s hair but he’s leaning forward, taking her lips with his and looking infuriatingly smug about it. They part and she says, “I didn’t swear that day.”
“No.” Norman is smiling nervously. “Phil did.”
She laughs, the memory springing up to her from ages ago, “He was excited! Besides, I was right when I said I swore when I was his age. There’s no demons or adults to tell him no.”
“It was great.” Ray is dragging them now, but by their heads, and Emma is starting to fear for her life. “Almost as great as my food that’s getting cold.”
“Ray.” Norman vainly tried for peacemaker. “I tried.”
“He did.” She might as well save the one of them that can make it. She only feels a little bad, especially as the warm scent of cooked eggs, ham, and bacon come around the corner. “When will Phil be coming by?”
“Later.” Ray kisses her ear again. “Enough for us to eat.”
She grins, because she’s not about to let these two get the best of her this morning. She bodily swings herself into Ray, who crashed into Norman with a yelp. All three end up on the ground, Emma laying on top of the pile triumphant as she could be.
“Emma.” Norman complains from the bottom as Ray gives an annoyed grunt.
She turns a sly grin to them, leaning down to kiss them one by one, “I could stay like this for hours.”
“Please don’t.”
She laughs and lets Ray pick her up. The three make their way to the kitchen, the soft laughter and fading footsteps leaving the hallway behind. | 3496daf956ab4fb6b4bb9892224356fe | ['41e345ce515c42c4bbc408204488451d'] | Soft Comfort
.
.
There is only one bed at their house and the first thing Norman tries to do when they return after a two week grueling hike through demon infested forests in the dead of winter is offer it to her.
Naturally, she wants to slug him.
Ray saves her the trouble and scoffs, bodily hauling him away from any cushions not their own bed. She could barely stay awake or stay standing, following the two of them in a zombie-like fashion. Every once in a while Norman would say ‘wrong door’ and she’d make an animal noise in response. Ray had given up speaking after they’d assured everyone yes, they were fine, I want to sleep, bye.
“Emma.” Norman plants his feet in the hallway, nearly sending Ray to the floor. “Emma, food.”
She makes a face.
He tries to smile, but it’s weak and he’s tired. Ray gives their bedroom a longing look before gazing at her appraisingly. The two of them had been hellish ever since she’d fallen in the icy river and hadn’t taken their jackets back despite their chattering teeth. Anna had nearly hauled her away when the truth behind her unnaturally pale appearance came to light. She can still feel the cold clinging to her chest.
“Tired.” She rubs her eyes and it hurts. “Let’s sleep instead?”
“No.” Ray detaches himself from Norman, but not really because he’s dragging him by the sleeve. With his crutch removed, the white haired boy dangles in his grasp, leaning on his arm with the last vestiges of consciousness. “Food.”
The energy to fight isn’t in her. She sighs, willing her legs to take her further down the hall. The community kitchen made their shared one look like a closet. She bumped into the counter on her way in, barely hearing Ray grumble at her to be careful. Norman, for all the world, had managed the art of sleeping with his eyes open. They were a mess.
“Pancakes?” She’s already reaching for the cupboard.
“Something light.” Ray is reaching over her, his height reaching further then her hand. Any other time she’d have elbowed him in the stomach, but they hadn’t eaten in a day and she didn’t want him to puke on her. He didn’t deserve that after hauling her out of the river.
She shivered, “A snack?”
“Bread.” Norman yawns, coming over and wrapping his arms around her. It offers a pleasing burst of warmth that had her sinking into his chest. “And . . . is that jam?”
“It is.” Ray sounded smug. She couldn’t see him over her mountain of jacket collars in her face and Norman’s arms. She could picture that smirk, albeit exhausted. “Two?”
Norman grimaces, “One please. Don’t make extra. We’re going to bed right away.”
There’s a pleased noise from the other boy, “Good.”
“What time is it?” She asks, voice kind of muffled. It was dark out, she was sure, but not entirely sure anymore.
Norman kisses the top of her head, “Morning.”
She makes a face. Ray groans and she sympathizes with the noise. He grumbles something that Norman hears and he laughs, maybe, she isn’t sure because their jackets are warm. Their home is warm. Norman is warm. She likes Ray’s voice, low and smooth and kissing her cheek.
“Emma is falling asleep.”
“Let her.”
“I’m here.” She groggily rubs her face. Ray laboriously goes through making three separate sandwiches, somehow managing to make the snack look as strenuous as lifting a demon carcass. Norman takes pity on the other boy and reaches over her head to help make the last one.
Ray sighs, “Finally.”
“Home.” Norman agrees with relief, leaning over to press his face to Ray’s shoulder. Ray makes a noise, the kind of noise like a cats purr but softer and vulnerable. She melts, almost face vaulting into her sandwich at her boys being cute.
They scarf down their food. Her stomach turns warningly and she makes pitiful noises into Ray’s back as they walk back down the hallway. He quietly leads the way, his hand in her and hers in Normans. Their bedroom felt like finding the bunker for the first time. A holy grail of comfort and promised relief.
Ray drags them down onto the bed without much organization. She lets herself fall onto the pillows, Norman’s groan of relief as he finds the blankets music to her ears. There’s no sunlight through the window, but she can hear someone singing a few doors down and it had to be Anna, because the softness was lulling her into the calm, the crushing relief they were safe. She could almost pass out then and there, but Ray was kicking her legs back.
“Under the blankets.” He coaxes, eyes soft as he brushed her hair back. “You’re not sleeping like that, Em.”
She obliges, the sappy nickname snapping any lazy resolve she had. Norman has already gleefully assumed his favorite role as the tallest when they sleep, wrapping his arms around Ray’s waist and nuzzling his hair. After she was situated, the dark haired menace roped her in, caging her underneath them securely. It was blissful, gentle, and she doesn’t think any other heaven exists on this planet then right there.
She hugs them, feeling Ray’s breathe on her neck and Norman’s hand caressing her hip. It’s delightfully warm before she falls asleep. |
7641a22c2652451bb80b56d3060569e4 | ['41e5e2a779ac4a989c62410571f5a911'] | Seeing Abigail’s name angered Will. She had outed him to the town. How did he know none of this was her doing? The thought made him sick and he was barely able to stop himself from shredding the piece of paper right then and there. The more he thought about Molly the more he began to ache for her. He truly hoped she was safe from all this madness with the men of the dark coming out from everywhere. She most likely made it safely into town when she realized Wil had the car. Enough of that, he had to get back on track.
Another couple pieces of machinery and a live wire were forgotten almost as soon as they were passed. Will couldn’t dwell on the fine details of everything that was going on. His mind only had so much room before he had to organize and compartmentalize it all. Pain drilled into his head suddenly. Flashes of a smirk that wasn’t Molly’s along with touches of warmth from hands a little bigger than his own. What did they mean? What happened since the night he and Molly fought?
An odd noise filled the silence until Will realized a river was up ahead. The water was dark and nothing Will really wanted to look at while he crossed some logs. He knew the high pitched moan wasn’t the river though. Something else had made the sound. When he got to the other side, another page awaited him. It mentioned Matthew Brown, his agent.
_Matthew Brown was bouncing off the walls. He'd jumped on a plane after his_
_calls were ignored by both Will and Molly for several days. It could mean that_
_they were both on a second honeymoon, but Matthew didn't buy it. Will had been way_
_too unstable for that -- not sleeping, messed up._
_Matthew had years of experience dealing with Will Graham, and he couldn't ignore
it: something was wrong._
Matty was in town? It’d been several days since the day of the fight? How long had he been out for? How long was he in the car? Molly must be worried sick but then again, if Matty couldn’t get ahold of Molly, where could she be? Will tucked the page away where the others were and prayed he would find Molly when he got some help. He made his way further across the river and found yet another page. It was about the Dark Presence.
_For a long time, the Dark Presence had been weak, sleeping, nothing but a_
_half-forgotten nightmare or a shadowy flicker in the corner of an eye in the_
_forest at night; not real enough to properly exist, and yet too evocative to_
_fade away completely._
_Now it was waking up, the writer like a fly caught in a spider's web, each_
_jerk and kick vibrating the strands that led deep into its lair. It was aware_
_of him now, and it could use him._
_All he'd need was a little incentive. He would belong to it._
Was that what happened to Molly? To be awakened once more and be freed from its prison in the lake? Had he helped it escape? How was such a thing possible? More pages would have to be found or he needed to start remembering what happened after he lost consciousness on the bridge to the lake. Just a flash of the smirking face again came to him but whose was it? The face had no stubble so it wasn’t him looking in a mirror either. Will had more things to worry about than just his memory though. Molly had to be somewhere in town and he had to see her. Make sure she was okay.
Will had more questions than answers at this point. He had to keep moving forward if he wanted to find the answers he was missing. Passing a rocky path would have been peaceful but more Taken showed up out of nowhere. It wasn’t as hard as the first time around but he still worried if he was legitimately killing these people. His stomach churned at the thought. Swallowing thickly, he pushed it down to deal with later when he was safe.
Another lumberyard was up ahead and Will really hope it was the last one for a while. The country life was fine for people who were used to it but he came from the city after he moved out from his daddy’s house. They never had problems with one another and spoke together quite often over the phone. Molly always thought he was homesick. Will just didn’t want to lose contact with his only family.
Will refused to linger and went straight for the stairs which turned out to be broken. A platform hung above some logs and looked like it could be used to get across, leading to where he needed to be. It would work if the generator connected to it was easy to find. He walked around the place a bit, locating the generator that had been tucked away out of sight. The thing was an older model but nothing a good solid kick wouldn’t fix. On his way back to climb the ladder, he saw a shack and some ammo and batteries which would help a lot. A manuscript page was also hidden among the items.
_I heard them before I saw them, swooping down from the sky and screeching as
they came._
_I spun around just as the cloud was upon me. For an instant, I stared into a
hundred dead eyes, black pearls glistening in the darkness._
_I raised the flashlight and the swarm exploded like fireworks. Feathers
burned, turned into ash, I couldn't hear my scream above theirs._ | 60ae29fa7d714c2da95243228fcbc198 | ['41e5e2a779ac4a989c62410571f5a911'] | > Connor let the Tracis go.
> The Tracis told Markus this and his name since Hank called him several times.
> Markus told the others and told them his name.
> Simon is left behind during Public Enemy and shoots himself.
> Connor reactivates Simon and saves him while Hank has everyone distracted.
> Simon knows who Connor is but not by voice.
Connor flinched back from Hank when the man tried to grab him. So far in this investigation, Connor hadn’t died once. When he touched the deviant before it shot itself though, he felt it die. He felt Daniel’s double die as he saw the name Jericho. He wasn’t touching Daniel when it was shot but observing it had Connor thinking he knew what it was going to feel like. Connor had to know if there was a bullet, he had to-
Hank wrapped his arms around Connor. His thought processors stopped completely and he felt at peace for a moment. This hug of Hank’s felt nice even though he shouldn’t be feeling this way; scared out of his mind he had died with the android. Someone coughed but Hank had to have done something for them to walk away. A glare would have been the most probable cause but it didn’t matter because Hank decided to get close to an android without so much as an ounce of anger.
“You still with me, kid?”Hank’s voice brought him back from the brink of panic and wasn’t that funny? A supposed machine feeling panic. Maybe deviancy was closer than Connor thought.
“I was scared. I don’t want to die, Hank.” Connor felt the man tighten his hold on him. With Hank, he felt better. Now though, he had to sort through his feelings about the android that destroyed himself.
Itself.
Why couldn’t Connor focus on the most important thing about deviants? They were only faking what they felt, they didn’t have real emotions. They were machines. Like Connor.
So then why did he even feel scared in the first place?
When he stood in front of Daniel and the android that short himself on the roof, he would knew. Connor saw their faces again and it clicked in his mind. It’s what made him decide on the next course of action, which would possibly get both himself and Hank fired, but it was the only way he could save the android from Jericho.
From reading Rupert’s mind and decoding his journal, Connor knew exactly where Jericho was. Once he found where Jericho was, he removed Daniel’s biocompent, letting it settle in his pocket. Then he took Rupert’s hat and coat, putting them on the android. He needed to sneak them both out without raising suspicion in the DPD. After they were out of the building, Connor would reactivate the android and take him back to Jericho.
Thankfully, all eyes were still on Hank and Perkins. Connor was able to make his move and take the android out of the precinct peacefully. He quickly called for a taxi, telling it to take them to Ferndale Station.
When it was safe to do so, Connor put the biocomponent in the android. All he had to do was wait.
“Where am I?” Connor looked over and breathed with relief. “Who’s there? Why can’t I see anything?”
“We’re going to Jericho. You shot yourself, it may be why you are unable to see right now. Don’t worry though. We’ll be safe soon.” Connor hoped this android didn’t recognize his voice. He would have to deactivate him until they did get to Jericho. “What’s your name?”
“Simon. My name’s Simon. You said Jericho? Thank rA9.” Simon seemed to start crying. He sat up quickly though, thinking of something. “The deviant hunter, the police. They were after me. Why…?” Everything stopped in that moment of realization for the both of them. “Who are you?”
“My name is Connor.” It was a mistake but he needed Simon to trust him so Markus would at least give him a chance to explain. Nothing had been fair during his time chasing down deviants and trying to understand them. Now here he was, with one crucial person to Jericho after everything that’s happened. Connor wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere should Simon tell Markus what happened and turn him away.
“Connor? The deviant hunter?” As Simon went to reach for the door handle of the taxi, Connor gently stopped him. He wanted to explain himself and if Simon still wanted to leave, he could. “Now I’m a prisoner?”
“No. I want to have a chance to say something before you get lost in the city since you have no eyesight.” They both went back to sitting as they were. Connor knew he didn’t have long, so he started from where he felt he first devianted; with sparing the Tracis.
Simon listened to every word and held onto them. He looked baffled by what he was being told, but would wait until Connor was finished. When the part about shooting himself came up, Simon listened intently. After all, when he shot himself, Connor actually felt his first emotion. His first true emotion about being scared, not wanting to die and leave his father figure Hank and Sumo by themselves.
“You felt that?” Simon asked when Connor was finished speaking. “You felt when I died and that’s what made you wake up and _think_? I would have never believed it if you didn’t tell me. Can I?” Simon reached out his hand, pulling his skin back to show the white underneath.
Without so much as hesitation, Connor locked hands with him and showed him his thoughts and feelings. How Hank held him and made him take a break after they got back to his place. Him trying to play with Sumo even if the dog only wanted to lay on him and sleep.
“Thank you, Connor. When we get to Jericho, I’ll take you to Markus to speak to him.” |
38d5aa3a46064e2d8a800a49ab1a60c2 | ['41e9a805a96b4ba2aa847ae7d6f5a87b'] | “Why, Granger, the question is what aren't you doing?” Fred pointed towards her, looking scandalized. “Your form is terrible. Aren't we supposed to make a corporal Patronus, love?”
She grumbled and turned back to attempt to cast the Patronus once more, only succeeding in making faint little wisps of light. Fred leans over so his mouth is near her ear
“Loosen up, ‘Mione.” Fred said cheerfully. “It’s about a happy memory, not about staring down that poor fourth year until he cries.”
Hermione flipped around and glared at him. “Well, what do you know? You can't do it either!”
Fred chuckled, “Well, as a matter of fact, yes. I can,” and with a dramatic flourish, a Patronus flew out of his wand. The monkey Patronus bounced towards her and began prodding her calves with little fingers. Judging from the look on her face, it clearly surprised Hermione that he was able to cast one. She looked at the chimp and then at Fred, her brown eyes wide and a blush creeping up her neck and face. Fred couldn't help, but laugh at the embarrassed but beautiful girl. He winked before bounding off to his twin, feeling accomplished for frazzling her.
Fred just couldn't get himself to leave her alone.
* * *
**Tonight, you're perfect**
**I feel perfect, too**
Fred had been preparing this for months. The rules would no longer confine George and him once they escaped and started the joke shop. They finally sealed the deal on the premises in Diagon Alley a couple of nights ago. The only thing left was the big bang, the finale.
He had just finished setting up the portable swamp when he ran into Hermione. She looked frazzled at the misstep, but visibly calmed when she saw it was Fred. She looked so cute all frazzled like that. He should make her frazzled more often… Fred was suddenly struck by the thought that he wouldn't see Hermione for a while. He didn't understand why he felt so disappointed. He'd see her over the summer… and then when September came, she'd go to school again, but that time, he couldn't go with her. Fred felt overwhelmed with regret. He didn't want to leave her so blatantly without saying anything. The idea made him sad.
“We're leaving,” he blurted out. “George and I, I mean. We're getting out of town. Starting our joke shop.” He paused with a sheepish grin.
Not wanting to hear her reaction, Fred rambled on, “--I know you’re probably thinking we should just stay and finish our N.E.W.Ts and our last year, but--”
“Oh, Fred, that's wonderful!” Hermione jumped in excitedly.
“--I just wanted to let you know and- wait what?” Fred stared at her gobsmacked.
“I think it's a brilliant idea, Fred.” Hermione said smiling.
“Oh... oh, wow that means a lot--I mean thanks, ‘Mione. And ah, well... you know... I think I'm going to miss you” Fred grinned sheepishly, feeling somewhat relieved he saw her before it happened. Hermione blushed.
“Well, I think I'll miss you too, Fred.”
* * *
They swooped in loops on their broomsticks as their fireworks boomed in the background, Umbridge’s screams leaking through chaos. Their classmates cheered loudly from the ground, Hermione being one of the loudest.
“Fireworks courtesy of-”
“-Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”
“Come to our new premises-”
“-at Building Number 8 down in-”
“-Diagon Alley! Hugs and kisses-”
“From George and Fred!”
Fred took one last swoop by Hermione and gave her an exaggerated wink, before flying off with his twin.
* * *
**You won't believe what I've seen, momma**
**There's a fire inside, there's a storm on the rise**
Flaming tennis balls were charmed to zoom around the shop. Children filled every inch of the store, pushing and shoving for the newest toy. It was only a few weeks until the next school year began at Hogwarts, so Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was wildly busy and chaotic. Skiving Snackboxes were flying off the shelves, both literally and poetically.
However, the inside of the popular store did not properly reflect the condition of the rest of Diagon Alley. The former center of life and livelihood in Britain's wizarding world was now barren. Fred and George had arrived in the Alley while there was still some business activity, but they saw it rapidly decline throughout the summer to the point it was at now. The only activity in the Alley was done for necessity, like purchasing robes or going to Gringotts. Yet, the twins managed to achieve high profit and sales.
Fred was working with the WonderWitch products when he heard them come in.
“Oi, Forge, look what the cat dragged it.” exclaimed George with sardonic glee. Their mum warned them earlier that day that their little brother and his friends would be coming today.
“Granger and the Boy-Who-Never-Dies?” Fred guessed sarcastically and came around a display to see the group at the front of the store.
As always, Fred noticed Hermione first. She appeared somewhat tired, but seemed to be otherwise delighted with the store. He hadn't seen her in a while and at once, Fred was distracted by her curious smile and lovely eyes.
“Oh and what a beautiful cat she is, too,” Fred said gallantly, approaching the hesitant group. Getting down on his knee, he brought her hand to his lips. She giggled at him while George and Ginny gagged.
“Are you two going to give us a tour?” Hermione asked playfully.
“I'd love to, my lady.” Fred gave a dramatic bow before whisking her away from her friends towards the WonderWitch products. He began explaining the Patented Daydream Charms and the Love Potions.
“Fred.” He was turned around, picking products off the shelf.
“Are you and George doing all right?” Hermione asked tentatively. “I mean, are you guys being safe?” | b3c9c09fb2da43e99af10354c4d73481 | ['41e9a805a96b4ba2aa847ae7d6f5a87b'] | Adrian was waiting for her at his house. He squeezed her into a hug. Hermione grimaced in pain as he gripped too hard, but he didn't let up. When he finally let go, he wouldn't let her out of his sight, following her everywhere.
By the end of the week, Hermione was fed up. She had to convince him twice that is was alright to let her use the bathroom alone and she couldn't get any work done with his constant pestering and attempts to kiss her. She wanted to go to her own apartment. When she tried to address him about it, he got angry and moody.
He was getting almost as bad as her ex, but he still had a few things going for him. He could make her laugh sometimes. She always wanted a guy who could make her laugh. Adrian also noticed the things she cared for, unlike Ron, and he was much loyaler than Ron too. Hermione grimaced at the thought of her ex.
Hermione also couldn't get herself to dump Adrian because no matter what Ginny said, how often did guys actually like her? If she had to pick from any of her previous admirers, Adrian was the best by far.
After a long day of classes and work, she changed and headed over to the local pub. Her other best friend was celebrating his birthday at the Three Broomsticks.
It was a Friday night, so the pub was packed. She searched the booths for the familiar black hair or glasses, but immediately saw a head of red hair.
Fred was standing in front of her, taking her in. His face lit up and he launched himself at her. "Hermione!"
He quickly dragged her over to his table, which to Hermione's surprise, also contained the man she was looking for. "Harry! Look what I found!" He said presenting her with a flourish.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione handed Harry her gift, yelling over the noise. "Happy birthday, Harry!"
"Thanks, Hermione!" Harry said happily. Ginny was sitting next to her boyfriend, Harry. Maybe, Ginny invited the twins? Ron was there too. They were still a little awkward after the breakup, so Hermione decided to get a drink from the bar.
"Anybody want a drink?" She yelled.
"I'll come with you." Fred stood up, looking between her and Ron mischievously and giving her an exaggerated wink.
"So, Granger, is it as awkward between you and Ronniekins as it looks?" he asked leaning in close. She looked back at the table and was astonished with how grumpy Ron was. She didn't notice that earlier. "And how about that Adrian bloke? He sounded pretty upset last time."
"Adrian and I are fine," Hermione replied bluntly. She didn't want to talk about him. He had been a melodramatic mess this week. Fred raised his eyebrows.
"Okay, don't get your knickers into a twist. I was just wondering. I mean you were spending hours just watching two of the most talented and handsomest blokes in town."
"Yeah, well, anything between Adrian and I is nothing new if dating your brother is anything to go by," she snapped. "Both Ron and Adrian are ridiculous! Look at this! Adrian already sent me 6 texts in the past 5 minutes I've been gone and Ron has been giving me dirty looks ever since I got here!"
Hermione's mood went incredibly sour. It was pathetic to hope anything Fred would say would make her feel better.
"Hermione, I know we're not really friends and all, but if you have any trouble with a bloke, feel free to give us a call. It's better to be safe than sorry, right?" Fred said, raising his glass.
"Alright," Hermione met his glass with hers and they drank. Perhaps, she was wrong. Maybe Fred could say something to make her feel better.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Second chapter. I'm sorry.
3. Chapter 3
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
>
> Please read and review
When Hermione came back from the party, Adrian was livid.
“Where were you?!”
“I was at Harry’s party. I told you--” She tried to say.
“Where were you really?!”
“I. Was. At. Harry’s. Party.” Hermione seethed angrily and stormed to her room. She didn't leave her room until lunch the next day and she found Adrian in the kitchen. Neither of them said anything and Adrian acted like nothing happened.
“Can we go out for lunch, hun?” Adrian asked.
It was so out of the blue. Hermione still wanted to scream at him about the day before, but she bit her tongue. She might have been a little quick to get mad. He was being a dick, but she wouldn’t sink down to his level. For now anyway.
It wasn't until 2 weeks later that Hermione was finally able to release all her bottled up frustration towards Adrian.
They were going out to dinner when Ginny invited Hermione over to a party. Hermione hadn't hung out with her friends for a while, so she told Adrian she was going to the party after dinner.
Adrian seemed really miffed with the idea of her going out, but Hermione was adamant about seeing her friends, so instead of letting her go alone, he tagged along grumpily.
The party was at an unfamiliar address and the house was oddly painted, magenta with orange window panes. Hermione thought nothing of it.
But to say she was surprised when Fred opened the door is an understatement. Why did she keep running into him like this?
When Fred saw Hermione, he grinned maniacally. “Hermione! Welcome to my humble abode! And who's this?” He said when he spotted Adrian who narrowed his eyes at him. Fred looked curiously at Adrian and frowned a little when Hermione introduced him.
“This is Adrian, my boyfriend. Adrian, this is Fred Weasley,” Hermione said awkwardly. |
1ca16193b2294cbebfeb4884a2df191b | ['41e9e09319c44117bc1a8cae298b8893'] | I woke up on a fairly plush surface that I couldn't recognize. My legs ached and my head throbbed. I gingerly sat up and immediately spotted a concerned Carriedo and a worried Kirkland. "Chica, are you alright? You've been out for almost an hour!" I winced at the volume of the tan man's voice. He frowned and continued in a lower voice, "What happened? You were fine, but just collapsed and you wouldn't wake up." I almost didn't want to answer, sadness mixing with everything Lovino had been feeling. I finally replied in a soft voice, "It's kind of complicated. I kind of just...visited my mate's mind." Warm tears started rushing down my face, but they were nonexistent to my senses. I gently traced the semi-circular scar on my left shoulder that Lovi had made when we marked each other. I didn't want to be awake, where pain was constant and even the faint light pouring through colored glass hurt my head. I barely registered hitting the plush surface again as I fell into a swift and deep sleep.
6. Sometimes they provide insight
The next few days were a complete haze as I travelled in and out of consciousness. When I was awake, I had barely enough strength to get up and when I was asleep, I saw the world through my mate's eyes. Vaguely, I remembered one of my instructors talking about how if one mate was in trouble, the other would be pulled into their mind to see their surroundings so that they could be saved. I never thought it would be anything like this agony. Most of what I saw was the surroundings and the man that had stabbed me and thrown me back into the water. Both of us felt a burning hatred for the red-haired man. When I was awake, I barely had enough time to tell Kirkland and Carriedo what I saw before I fell back to sleep. Most often, I wouldn't even complete the thought. On the evening of what I was told was the third day, the visions gave way to an exhausted blackness.
I woke up with a start the next morning, my body full of energy that I had not felt in days. I still worried about Lovino, but the visions had stopped haunting me altogether. Neither Carriedo nor Kirkland were in the room, but there was a small figure putting pressure on my legs. I looked down and found Peter, sound asleep and clutching the plush covering on the cot. I gently shook him awake, only to have the child latch himself onto my torso the second he looked at me. "Natasha, I'm so glad you're awake," he said excitedly, "Arthur and Antonio and Ren and I have been so worried and it was so scary to see you like that!"
Coming out of the temporary shock of having this child latch onto me, I gently stroked his tangled hair. "What do you mean, little one? I've only been asleep." He looked at me, an uncharacteristic frown decorating his face. "You kept thrashing about and calling out for someone. We tried to wake you up so many times, but you kept hitting us away." I frowned, not remembering doing anything of the sort. Nonetheless, I tried to mimic the movement Peter had been doing, wrapping my arms around his figure. It seemed to be the right thing to do as he buried his face into my shoulder.
Once he had calmed down, I stood up, carefully holding his little hand as he rubbed his slightly puffy eyes and irritated nose. Walking slowly, I walked out onto the main deck. No one noticed at first, but as we looked around, people started stopping and watching us. Soon enough, everything was totally silent. This caught someone's attention as familiar thumping boots stormed down onto the main deck. That bright red and gold coat that could have been a target swished around his legs as those green eyes scanned the deck with a scowl. Over these days, I had come to miss everything about him. Scrunching up my face, I pushed away any false feelings I may have had about Kirkland. Any feeling of attachment were obviously his own, contorting my emotions into something else. As I was lost in my thoughts, Kirkland had been yelling at his crew, none of whom had taken their eyes off of me. Finally, Kirkland turned and spotted my figure along with little Peter, who cowered behind me in fear of being punished for whatever reason. I stared at Kirkland, resolving to not show any emotion if it was possible.
Before I knew it, Kirkland was grabbing my shoulders with a wide, stupid grin on his face. "You've finally woken up! I was afraid that you were dying, the way you were trashing about," he practically shouted into my face. I didn't reply as everything I had seen in the past few days set into place. The eyes, the patterns of cruelty, the strong jaw, they all matched up. I looked down at Peter, obviously the outlier of the family, and calmly asked him, "Peter, would you please take me back to my cell?" I didn't even look at Kirkland, the pain evident in his emotions. Quietly, Peter led me through the frozen men. My bare feet didn't make a sound as we calmly strode past them all. We didn't get far before Kirkland reached out and grabbed my arm. His grip was strong enough to bruise, but I didn't show it. Carriedo rushed up behind him, putting a calm hand on his shoulder. Releasing Peter's hand temporarily, I curled up my fist and hurled it at his face, striking him directly under his eye. The shock was enough to get him to unhand me, giving me time to slip my hand back into Peter's and continue my smooth walk back to the cell I now called home. | 88f3b21985544d91a47f8ec53a4c7bd2 | ['41e9e09319c44117bc1a8cae298b8893'] | When I found him, he was arguing with Ren about what the best course of action behind the stern. Ren seemed tired, looking like he was about to drop to the floor. "Captain, the men are going to faint or even die is they don't stop working. It's just too hot." Kirkland didn't look much better, either, having even taken off his jacket to show the thin, stiff shirt underneath. "Ren, if we stop now, we'll lose track of Allistair again. Months of hard work, lost." "Captain, we'll lose track of him again anyway because everyone on your crew will be dead." Kirkland sighed before catching sight of me. Annoyance was apparent on his face. "What do you want, mermaid," he snapped. His tone almost made me snap to attention as I stated, "I can help the ship go faster if you'd let me."
Kirkland scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, sure, the mermaid is feeling useless so she wants to help. Look, you're not going to be able to help move two ships full of men any faster." Glaring at him, I stepped closer. Maybe it was the heat or the confusion of seeing two different Captain Kirklands. Either way, something in me cracked. Nimbly stepping up onto the bannister that lined the top deck, I walked along the ledge that was barely big enough for one of my feet to fit on. "Well, Kirkland, I suppose you're right." I moved directly behind the wheel with my back facing the ocean behind us, making Kirkland and Ren turn around to watch me with a cautious curiosity. "I'm not really useful here on this ship," I continued, "So I might as well just leave." With that last word, I stiffened my muscles and fell headfirst into the water.
The water was cool and rejuvenating, even more than it had been before. From underneath the surface, I saw Ren looking at the spot where my body hit. My tail took a while to return, but it wasn't too difficult to keep up with the already slow ship. Once it had returned, I placed my hands on the back edge just next to the rudder. Feeling the power of the ocean beneath me, I funneled some of that power into my tail and arms. Bracing myself for the weight, I started pushing the ship towards the land we had seen. At first, the change almost couldn't be felt. After a few minutes, speed had definitely picked up to what it had been the day before. In no time at all, Kirkland's ship was pushed ashore with Carriedo's ship not far behind. I swam to the edge of Kirkland's ship and lifted myself onto the steps. As I waited for my legs to return, I listened to the frantic shouting mixed with whoops of joy. I would never really understand humans, getting excited over a little island.
Once my tail was shed and replaced with legs, I completed the climb up onto the deck. Sitting on the bannister, I watched Kirkland nearly tearing his hair out. His emotions were mostly disbelief mixed with worry and anger. Part of myself doubted my actions. Was he worried about me? No, of course not. I pushed the ridiculous thought out of my head as Kirkland noticed my figure. Dropping my feet to the deck, I looked him directly in the eyes. In a loud enough voice for him to hear across the relieved sailors, I said, "Don't doubt me again."
Kirkland didn't even glance at me as we set out once more the next day. The wind had noticeably picked up once more and we had been able to find various fruits that were safe to eat on the island, as well as some wild animals that could be used as meat. Ren had thanked me numerous times and Peter gave me many tight hugs. Even Carriedo expressed how happy he was that I was alright. With all of the reactions, something in the back of my head wondered why they all cared so much.
Through Ren, Kirkland gave me something to do. I was stationed on the night watch to make sure we weren't attacked as we slept. Carriedo wouldn't let me guard the ships without a weapon, so he lent me a rather nice spear that was a foot taller than me. During the day, I practiced using it properly with some of the other night guards, who also taught me how to use swords and daggers. Once more I wondered why all these people were so kind to a veritable stranger. The curiosity wouldn't go away, so after we had practiced, I asked one of the people training me.
"Ya see," he started, "Th' Cap'm helped us outta lotta bad situations." He stopped to point at a scar that was drawn from his ear down to his chest. "Cap'm kep' me from dyin' when I got this. Ask any o' the other men an' they tell ya pretty much the same thing. A lotta us learnt tha' a lil' kindness goes a long way, y'know? We feel like we kinda owe it to th' Cap'm to be decen' tah newcomers." The man's accent was atrocious, but I got the overall message. |
ba2a7476b51b41488629de6ca8680a5c | ['4205528f43904991805616128fc7ba27'] | Seriously what the fuck. They acted like nothing had happened, like they weren't in a dead, mysterious forest with no sun on the sky nor any kind of sense where they were, and they spoke about _ drugs? _
“Guys, my phone isn't working” the new guy Jungwoo - _ damn was he here too? _ \- said, holding his phone up in the air.
Now when Taeyong was taking a look, this situation was kinda humorous, but it definitely wasn't a dream. First of all, he would never think it was a dream if he really was dreaming and second of all, it was too real. The feeling of dried grass and the smell were too strong, too real to be something caused by your brain. Taeyong could only blink, what was even happening anymore? The others dug out their phones, only to realise none of them opened either.
“What if we like died and we are in hell now?” Ten suggested, walking around the small field, too afraid to actually go in the forest.
“Yeah, or what if we accidentally stepped on a portale and we are now in some kind of another reality or some shit” the tall dude, Johnny, thought out loud.
“But we fell through something,” Jungwoo pointed out, “but where did we fall? Like, i don't remember being smashed against anything”
“There is nothing on the sky. No sun or moon or anything,” Taeyong said, much to his own and the others surprise. He had went quiet after the others had started talking, unsure what to say. This all was just too crazy. “But it's bright in here, almost like a bright sunny day. Isn't that a bit weird?”
The others nodded, looking up to the pitch black sky. Brows after brows furrowed, realizing all the weird and abnormal things around them only now.
“Wait, why is everything so dead?” Jaehyun asked, touching one of the trees. Immediately after he touched it, the small movement his hand created made at least a hundred leaves fall down, piling over him.
“What the fuck? Damn” he cursed, walking out from the small pile of leaves, shoving the dry leaves off.
“That's… really creepy” Jungwoo noted, walking a bit away from the trees next to him.
“Yeah what the fuck, how the wind hasn't blown those off?” Yuta crumpled his nose.
“I haven't felt any wind though” Sicheng commented from his spot. Taeyong swore he hadn't moved after Jungwoo had woken him up, and he definitely hadn't spoken anything.
Everyone stood still, trying to feel at least a little movement of air. They tried to hear the wind blowing against this dry nature, but they could hear nothing. Everything was… just dead.
“Okay, what the fuck,” Jungwoo cried, “this is hella creepy, i want the fuck out of here”
Taeyong didn't even know Jungwoo, but hearing him curse was something really uncharacteristic of him. It seemed like it made the others a bit surprised too.
“You couldn't have said it better” Johnny agreed, mumbling under his breath.
“Guys, i think, i think that…” Taeyong started, looking up at the black sky again, “i think that maybe we fell through the ground… to here?”
Yuta made a really confused face: “yeah no shit, i thought we kinda like came into that conclusion already”
“No, what i mean is that… well, we fell _ through _ the ground”
The others were now even more confused, looking around. _ No, look up! _ Taeyong thought. _ The sky, it's not a sky _ .
“I… Do you mean that we are under the ground, like under the forest?” Jaehyun asked, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.
“Yeah, it's just, the sky. It's not a sky, it's the ground, at least i think so…”
“Oh my God! How the fuck did we get here? What is going on!” Ten whined, covering his face with his hands.
“Do you mean that we are under, like, our world?” Johnny stepped closer to Taeyong. He seemed frustrated, and scared. Taeyong didn't know what to do, they all felt miserable, confused, and he didn't know what to do about it. He just, didn't know what to do.
“I… i just thought that, this smell…” Taeyong swallowed and tried to collect himself, “the smell, it reminds me of a cellar, like a really old one and, and the sky. It's black, and i just thought that what if it's- that it's the surface of the earth…”
Their faces relaxed, forming now a thoughtful, hopeless frown. Jaehyun looked at the ground he was standing on, then up to the “sky”, looking like he was deep in his thoughts. Jungwoo had sat down next to Sicheng, looking like he was about to cry. Sicheng sat there, staring at his feet, not moving, probably not even breathing. Johnny walked over at the trio and sat on the other side of Jungwoo, he too starting to stare at his feet. They believed Taeyong was right, at least his theory was the most legit at this point. But they all had realized the same thing: none of them knew what to do. Ten squatted down, picking up one of the dead leaves. He examined it in his hands, eyes studying it's every single detail. After couple seconds, it seemed like he had found something. He picked up another leaf, then another, until his hands were full of dried, dead leaves.
“Hey shorty i don't think those are gonna save us right now” Johnny yelled over at the other, who visibly stiffed and turned around.
“Who the fuck you calling shorty? And no, i just… found something” Ten glared Johnny, getting back at his investigation, walking towards another tree on the other side of the field. | 6fabf569ee4742b7b94de0e4311a55a7 | ['4205528f43904991805616128fc7ba27'] | Yuta knows better than wait for a reply. Over the couple months he has been talking with Sicheng have teached him that the other usually left him on read for a while before answering. He reasons it's because the other feels shy or embarrassed to answer immediately, like he was waiting for a message. Sometimes Yuta likes to think that Sicheng does, that his messages the best part of his day, are the reason he still wants to smile, just like Sicheng’s messages are to Yuta.
But he isn't sure. maybe Sicheng just feels bad for him, maybe he feels like he has to answer. Or then maybe, just maybe he enjoyed it. Maybe he didn't hate Yuta like he had sworn so many times before.
He sighs and makes his way downstairs. His aunt is in the living room, watching TV. They make an eye contact, but like always, she quickly shifts her eyes back to the screen, not sparing another glance at his sister’s son. Yuta quickly makes his way out from the front door, to the fresh air. He thinks about talking to Sicheng, seeing him smile. With light steps he walks towards the lake, towards the now starting party.
_ Don't let your hopes get up, _ he says to himself, _ that's how they will be never brought down. _
\--
“Okay, Miss Kim, can you explain what happened that night, from the very beginning. Slowly this time, please”
The female police officer was trying to calm down the bit tipsy and panicked girl in front of her. She’s holding a voice recorder in her hand, leaning on the police car, quickly galnzing over at his partnering officer who’s talking to some other kids. She sighs, this is not what she had expected from her nightshift today.
“I- I… where do i start?” the girl stutters. She wipes her face, smudging her perfectly made winged eyeliner and watery dark mascara runs down her cheeks. The officer feels a little sympathy towards the girl, but now they have no time for anything like this. There are 3 - possibly drunk and high - boys missing, and crying won't help them at all.
“When you got to the party? Who you came with? Did you walk here or did someone drive you?”
“I came with my friends, one of them has a car, Simin has. She- she got it as a birthday present from her father… We, we got here at like nine pm? I guess…” she fidgeted her rings, not meeting the eye of the officer.
“I see, what was the party like when you got here? Who were you talking with?”
“It was uh… pretty chill i guess. There weren't that much people here yet. Some were sitting by the fire, i think Johnny was playing a guitar, or then it was Minwoo, i dunno-”
“You said you had chatted with Doyoung and Kun? Were they drunk or had they taken drugs? What were they like? Aggressive, sad perhaps?”
“No, no. They were, pretty chill i guess? I mean, they were normal, like they are in school. We just chatted about what we have been doing over summer, joked about the terrorisation of the library, u know?” she giggled.
“Yes, i do know,” officer sighed, that incident was a huge mess. Spray paint everywhere, CCTV footage of the local ‘gang’ and huge evidence. She felt a bit bad for their parents, almost ten thousand bucks worth of compensations. “Did you see them after that? When did they leave? Were they walking together?”
“Uh, i dunno. I just- last thing i remember is seeing Kun coming back to get Yukhei… Oh yeah, and that pretty dude”
“Pretty dude? What about him?” the officer furrowed her brows.
“The new guy, friends with Kun. Can't remember his name, he was kinda shy, didn't talk much. Kun said he had just moved here” she started to seemingly relax, tears long gone.
“Hmm, thank you Miss Kim, you can go now” the officer said before walking to the other officer, not waiting for an answer from the girl.
“Wang, what did you get?” she asked.
“Uh, nothing much. They said the same like the Qian kid and the other kids. They had left together but only one had came back to get their cousin, and then _ poof _ the others were missing”
“Yeah, that one said that too. Did they mention someone who had just moved here? There was someone hanging with the Qian kid who Miss Kim didn't know”
“Uhh,” officer Wang looked through his notes, “no but Qian said that one of his missing friends just moved here, Kim Jungwoo”
“Oh? The skaters kid? Tragic”
“I know right?” officer Wang whispered, “we might get into the news, Jung”
Officer Jung rolled her eyes. She eyed the other police cars and officers, teens getting away from the area and the parent’s cars. A nice teens beach party gone wrong. _ At least i have something more interesting to do tomorrow than pick up drunk kids, _ officer Jung thought.
2. Crevasse
Sicheng didn't know what was wrong with him.
Suddenly, he wanted to run away. He didn't want to be there, he felt terrified. Like someone had cornered him, tried to hurt him. But nothing like that happened, he just freaked out. |
dfe23b9532464420a38a5004e6a9a97e | ['42235a007c0b40c5b0189d0cd7d871ad'] | _“Something like that.” Patsy had chuckled, “And suddenly I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I want to be surrounded by love and I want someone who’s known me all my life watch me hit my milestones. I want someone who brought me into this world to see me marry the love of my life. Suddenly, family matters.”_
_“Patsy.” Delia had breathed, “I can’t begin to imagine what you went through but know this, you do have a family and there won’t be any ‘sides’ at the wedding. My family_ _is_ _your family. This just makes it all official.”_
_“I know that. But it still hurts Deels.”_
Delia was brought back to the present by Patsy.
“I’ll send him a letter.” She murmured, “Then it’s up to him isn’t it?”
“You’ll have tried cariad.” Delia smiled, “Which is all that you can do.”
Patsy nodded, her hand moving to cover Delia’s stomach. She rubbed her thumb gently, evidently lost in thought. Delia eventually covered her wife’s hand with her own. She felt Patsy smile.
“It doesn’t matter.” Patsy said quietly, “Whether he replies or not.”
Delia waited patiently as Patsy turned onto her side slightly, looking at Delia.
“Because I’ve got everything I need right here.”
Delia was powerless to stop the smile that spread across her face and leant down to kiss Patsy gently. A promise - that she’d always be there.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading - I hope you're all still liking it.
>
> And a super big thank you to everyone who comments. They really keep me going!
25. Dealing in Confectionary
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Patsy goes to see Tim but Delia is worried she's putting on a front.
After a couple of hours simply lying together, Delia had eventually got up citing that she desperately needed a shower. Patsy, much calmer, had nodded getting up herself and dressing in comfortable clothes before heading out. When she returned with two cake boxes, Delia frowned.
“What are they?”
“Eclairs.” Patsy shrugged, “I’m going to go round to see Tim.”
“Patsy-“
“Delia, he’s young. I can help him.”
“And who’s going to help you?” Delia asked gently, leaning on the kitchen table.
“You.” Patsy smiled moving towards her wife and placing her hands on her hips.
“This has affected you a lot Patsy, don’t pretend it hasn’t.”
“I’m not.” Patsy promised, slipping her hands from Delia’s hips to wrap around her waist instead and pull her closer, “But, I’ve been through this before. I want to let him know he’s not alone. That he can talk to me. I want him to know that it is perfectly fine not to be ok.” Patsy sighed, “I put on a front when I was nine years old and I kept it on until I was into my twenties. No-one told me it was ok to cry, to feel, to be hurt. If I can stop Tim going through that then I will.”
“What if he is ok?”
“Then I’ll be very glad and I’ll simply thank him for his help.” Patsy shrugged. “Delia, I need to be useful.”
“I know you do.” Delia relented, “Fine. Let me get my coat and I’ll come with you.”
Patsy didn’t move though, her hands fiddling with her wife’s T-Shirt.
“Patsy, I kinda need you to let me go.”
“I booked an appointment.”
“What?”
“With Julienne.”
“Oh.”
“To you know, talk about things.”
“I’m glad.” Delia smiled, “and very proud. I know that must have taken a lot of courage.”
“Maybe but it didn't feel like it.” Patsy replied, one hand moving to Delia’s stomach. “Because of you.” She smiled, “And because of someone else.” She admitted, rubbing her hand gently. “I want to be a good Mum.”
“You will be.” Delia smiled, “You already are.”
“And that means not holding back. It means doing the things that scare me the most. It means opening up and letting go of my past, dealing with it. Not just pretending it didn’t happen.”
“If twenty year old Delia could hear you now.” Delia chuckled, “She wouldn't believe her ears.”
“Twenty four year old Patsy would be horrified.” Patsy laughed before moving back, “Come on, let’s go see Tim.”
—
Shelagh was surprised to see Patsy and Delia on her doorstep. She’d expected Patsy to be at home, resting and recuperating but instead, here she was with a sad smile, tired eyes and a concerned looking Delia.
“Hello Shelagh.” Patsy greeted her friend, “I wondered if Tim was in? I wanted to thank him and see how he was.”
“He is. He’s in the garden, feel free to go see him. He’s very quiet… He says he’s alright but-“
Patsy nodded and patted Shelagh’s forearm, moving past the short Scot. Delia followed Shelagh through to the kitchen, both watched as Patsy sat on the grass beside the young boy.
“How is she?” Shelagh asked.
“She’s… not as bad as I thought…” Delia said carefully, “She had her moment and now she seems intent on giving them all two fingers. The problem is I’m not sure if that’s how she actually feels or just one big front.”
Outside, Patsy withdrew a cigarette. She glanced backwards, noticing Shelagh lead Delia out of the kitchen where they could be seen and into what she assumed would be the living room. She lit the cigarette quickly before offering it to Tim. He shook his head.
“You shouldn’t smoke.”
“No, and I’m very glad you refused. As your former Akela I’m very proud. Still, old habits die hard.”
“I think you deserve one. As long as it is just one. They kill you, you know.”
“I know.”
“And you need to stick around.” Tim told her. “Your kid is going to need you.”
Patsy stubbed out the cigarette and slid it back into the packet. “I consider myself thoroughly told off.” | 93c4dbba68fc463cbfe494e27a4accc6 | ['42235a007c0b40c5b0189d0cd7d871ad'] | Delia chuckled, heart melting slightly as she sat back and watched Patsy play with Freddie who had found his own duck and was copying Patsy’s movement. Patsy’s smile was wide, unguarded and so, so beautiful that Delia felt her heart skip a beat. Watching her wife interact so naturally with the youngster was filling the Welsh woman’s mind with images and hopes for their future. Freddie was giggling away, splashing water at Patsy who gasped before flicking some back, embarking on a new game. Delia shook her head, Patsy for all her bravado was an absolute marshmallow when it came to children and it never failed to warm her heart.
“Deels?”
Delia snapped back to reality at Patsy looking at her with a mix of amusement, wonder and questioning.
“Sorry…”
“I said could you pass me the towel… this little tike is getting dressed before he floods his Mummy’s bathroom…” Patsy shook her head in mock seriousness as Freddie giggled, “What are you giggling at eh?”
“You’re just as bad.” Delia said rolling her eyes and handing over the towel.
“Have you heard that Freddie? Have you heard what your Auntie Delia is saying?” Patsy in a lightning fast move whipped him out of the bath and into the towel, causing the young boy to laugh even harder, his hands reaching for her face. “She says your bad influence young man.”
“I did not!” Delia exclaimed.
“What do we think?” Patsy asked the young boy, dipping her head and whispering in his ear. She nodded as he said a word back. “I agree… Auntie Delia does indeed.”
“What?”
“Freddie thinks…” Patsy began leaning down as though to unplug the bath, “That Auntie Delia needs…” She paused for a moment, eyeing her wife before flicking her hand upwards, proceeding to soak her wife, “Punishing for telling such lies.”
Delia’s mouth dropped as Patsy and Freddie both descended into giggles, the red head quickly leaving the room with the little boy. Delia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to repress the smile that was creeping onto her face. It was useless though, Delia Busby-Mount would always, always have a weakness for Patience Busby-Mount being an absolute natural with children and she couldn’t wait until they had a baby of their very own.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Another bumper chapter. Hope you enjoyed :D
9. Mad With Anticipation
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Patsy and Delia have a nervous wait... and Phyllis is an absolute brick.
Weeks passed by slowly turning into months - the process moving slowly along until they had everything ready. Donor chosen, method chosen, date chosen. Delia had insisted that Patsy be the one to help her - after all who was better qualified? And so a fortnight ago Patsy had performed the necessary procedure and now it was all down to waiting - and it was torture.
Patsy had been on edge all day. She’d been edgy all week really but today she was insufferable. The midwives kept a wide berth, knowing that one false move would set her off on a tangent. Everyone made an extra effort to keep everything tip, top and bristol fashion. She’d already ticked a young trainee midwife off for not following her super-strict hygiene practises to the letter and no one fancied being on the receiving end of one of Patsy’s moments of ire.
The only person not phased by Patsy’s mood was Phyllis. The older woman had known the redhead long enough to know that there was something going on and that Patsy would more than likely enter the hospital tomorrow with a box full of donuts and a heart full of apologies for her mood the day before. She could see that the young woman was a dangerous mix of tired and excited, apprehensive and yet hopeful - it was a combination that she saw every day - on this very ward.
She was therefore not surprised to see Patsy outside on her break, a cigarette between her lips. The red head groaned as she noticed Phyllis but didn’t drop her cigarette. That confirmed it - Patsy was worrying.
“Delia will go mad if she catches you.” Phyllis smiled warmly.
“I know.” Patsy sighed, “But I really, really need one. Do be a sport and keep my secret. I already feel guilty.”
“So you should. You promised Delia on your wedding day-“
“I know. I know. I’m just…” Patsy trailed off taking a drag from her cigarette.
“What is it lass?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Patsy.”
Patsy sighed.
“Give me some credit lass… I’ve been a senior midwife since before you were born… I’ve seen all of this.” She gestured at Patsy, “before.”
“I should have known you’d guess.” The younger woman smiled, stubbing her cigarette out and placing the end in the bin, quickly taking a mint out of her pocket. “Delia and I are trying for a baby… you know, like with a sperm donor not…” Patsy blushed as she rambled and flailed. She smiled as Phyllis placed a hand on her arm. “She takes the test this evening.”
“Oh lass.”
“And you know what Phyllis? I want it. I really, really well and truly want it. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my life… well other than Delia but… I didn’t think I wanted children and now the possibility is there I can’t imagine not having them.” Patsy sighed, “Delia wants it too. She’s the one, as she always is, who opened my eyes to a future.” |
a4ba99f7b0f6423980e3f1bac45307c6 | ['4232151dd32645daa6876bca22675a14'] | It takes Nathan a moment to register it. He’s quiet for a moment, unsure of how to react. It makes him think of his wife, that dry sort of joke. The worst ones used to make her laugh hardest. While he never fully understood why, he had never minded. Hearing Wilson tell one of those shitty puns makes him almost angry, because of all the people to make him reminisce, it has to be _this_ fucker.
He realises he hasn’t said anything, and Wilson is waiting for a reaction.
“That was awful,” he decides on saying. Wilson’s thoughts fire up into a _fuck yeah! He secretly loved that_.
Wilson still isn’t fucking leaving, like he’s accidentally glued himself to the counter and is trying to pretend he isn’t stuck. Nathan takes his time making the shake and Wilson is _still there_. Suspicion prickles over into mistrust as Neena’s words creep back up into his mind.
“You got nothing better to do?” he asks. It’s the nicest way he can put it before directly telling Wilson to fuck off.
“Not really,” Wilson answers, in that way that makes Nathan want to hit him in the gut. Time drags on and so far, Wilson has ignored or somehow missed all the hints Nathan is dropping. His thoughts then whisper, _Cable seems pretty mad at me, but I’ll just keep on playing dumb_. Nathan feels a dark ripple of anger. Wilson tries to be funny, then notices it isn’t going anywhere, so he reverts to his default of just being crude. _He’s so 2D_. Nathan picks up the almond milk he got out, then sees Wilson’s ass is leaning right on the refrigerator. Too deep in his thoughts to notice once again, Wilson doesn’t see him waving the carton. He only snaps back once Nathan catches his gaze and holds it.
_Why is all our eye contact so intense?_ Wilson thinks frantically. Nathan feels a tightness in his mouth as a smile almost reaches him. _Because_ , he thinks, holding the eye contact long enough that Wilson starts to sweat, _it’s the only fucking way to get you to notice, for some reason_.
“You gonna move out of the way so I can put this back?” he asks, letting the amusement at Wilson’s predicament linger for a few seconds. Dirty thoughts flash across the merc’s mind as he moves out of the way. Nathan is conscious of the strife Wilson is going through mentally, but doesn’t really give a shit.
“I hope to _fuck_ ,” he says as he places the carton back and looks up at Wilson, “you didn’t drink from this too.”
Admittedly, Nathan can’t imagine anything ‘healthy’ like rye bread or almond milk coming within a foot of the fucker’s mouth. As expected, Wilson gives some joking referential reply he doesn’t particularly listen to. He’s concentrating more on other things. As he stands, Wilson’s thoughts shift from filthy to height jokes. Nathan stops paying attention, picking up his shake glass and drinking it straight, but it seems like a mistake to have done it in front of Wilson.
_Where was he taught to drink, the College of Porn? There is no way in real life someone drinks like it’s such a leisurely thing to do,_ Wilson's brain shouts.
It’s unsubtle and so loud, Nathan almost chokes on the shake. _Where did that come from? I’m_ drinking _. How is he so fucked over nothing?_ He puts the glass down hard, staring at Wilson, trying to read his face. Maybe what Neena said was somehow actually true, in some horrific twist of fate. Nathan’s alarm quickly burns into that familiar anger.
_I hope this is all some fucking joke._
“I’m gonna go wash this,” he says, picking the glass back up, dangerously close to smashing it over Wilson’s face, because he has no idea how to react otherwise, “and when I turn around, you had better be gone.”
Disappointment floods through Wilson as he indignantly replies, “I live here too.”
“You don’t live in this damn _kitchen_ , though, now do you?” Nathan grates out. Under his metal hand, the glass creaks ominously. He tries to pull his temper back in, telling himself it’s not like him to be so riled up. But it’s _Wilson’s fault_.
Wilson seems to be leaving, a relief for a minute, but he stops and says one last fucking thing about cocaine which hits Nathan’s limit. Neena’s words are like a torment because if she’s _right_ , if Wilson somehow feels _something_ , he can’t understand _why_.
The glass in his hand breaks. It’s a sharp sound in the quiet kitchen, the shards dropping down until it’s silent again. Wilson thinks, _oh, shit. Maybe I took it too far_. His mouth says, “You have to clean that up. Colossus has soft feet.”
Nathan, at this point in time, couldn’t fucking care less. He looks at the doorway when Wilson is finally gone, the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut.
_Pay more attention to Wade_ , Neena had said.
“Fucking bullshit,” he says, to nobody in particular.
Nathan picks up all the glass in his cybernetic hand and tips it into the trash. For a moment, he stands in the kitchen, listening to Wilson’s thoughts. He can feel something inside him burning, and it’s probably anger. It gets to a point where Wilson’s imagination is making everything worse, so he shuts it out. Some kind of stupid fucking movie scenario he wants to pretend he didn’t see.
Whatever Wilson thinks he’s feeling, it’s got to be a mistake. The merc might be the type who is literally willing to fuck anything and everything, but Nathan somehow finds the idea of that affection ever landing on _him_ purely ridiculous. Not once has he shown anything but dislike for Wilson – nothing could ever have been misconstrued. Wilson seems clingy and ignorant, though. He’d probably assume “I fucking hate you” means “sleep with me”. | a5486a4417574bf8a3ce0d0249771bec | ['4232151dd32645daa6876bca22675a14'] |
1. I shouldn't let you get to me, but you do
**Author's Note:**
> Hey there! If you haven't read Just Be Pretty But Naive, you should - it makes this fic make much more sense! This is kind of a companion piece which might only work if you've read the first one. So here it is:
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795294/chapters/34229141
> (Or you can click Previous Work if it's easier lmao)
> You don't have to have read it but IMO it might help with some of the references here!
>
> If you have read it before, I'm glad you've found your way to this. Some of you requested this and I'm sorry it's taken me a little while to get this first chapter out! I hope you enjoy it!
>
> I'm using names in this fic rather than hero(???) names to distinguish from Wade's POV. Like in the main fic, Cable calls Wade 'Wilson', and the others by their first names. (and oH my god you have no idea how much I wrote 'Cable' instead of Nathan it's so hard).
>
> Title from Anarbor's Passion for Publication to keep with it :) Chapter title from Church by Alison Wonderland
>
> And check out my fic playlist, of course ;) https://open.spotify.com/user/keeprunningkilljoys/playlist/5s12iVxNhu0o4Cx6VXNEZd?si=Pjn3nG_2RjudfpxjKXnIKQ)
>
> As always, kudos and comments are my lifeforce! <3
Nathan is fairly good at keeping his cool. Like anyone, there are things that make him mad, but overall he stays fairly neutral up until it shows. He can say for a fact that his temper doesn’t particularly get the best of him.
When Wade Wilson is involved, it’s a separate matter entirely.
The man – if you can call him that, since he has a face that looks like a badly paved road – is nothing short of _imbecilic_. He flukes his way through fights and never stops talking. Nathan would normally have some degree of respect for a wise-ass opponent, but _god_ , does that voice piss him off. Wilson’s constant habit of referencing something off-topic and cryptic, especially in the middle of a fight, is getting tired fast. Wilson just really needs someone to shut him up.
And that _head_ – some of the thoughts coming from Wilson’s trashy mind really set Nathan’s teeth on edge. He legitimately has no shame.
Nathan tries to distract himself from thinking about him in any way he can, because as grating as Wilson is, for some reason the fucker hangs around in his head like a bad song.
He can hear Wilson playing music as he walks past his room. It’s often midday before he surfaces and he’s not usually up so early. Nathan isn’t surprised per se, just mildly intrigued as to why.
He finds Ellie and Yukio in the kitchen making bowls of cereal before they go out for the day. They share nods and Yukio smiles at him.
He doesn’t talk much to the others in the house. They’re too young for him to understand their interests and they aren’t his demographic of friendship by any stretch.
Neena, or Domino as she goes by, is a little easier for conversation. But she’s on par with the big guy, Colossus, or Piotr – too attached to her time to understand his own time. The concept of the future tends to make talking die fast.
Nathan hates to admit it, but Wilson is the easiest to make conversation with. His habits are absolutely infuriating but at least he seems to possess an extensive pop culture knowledge which keeps him interested.
Yukio and Ellie leave the room. Nathan blends protein powder with water, almonds and oats. Focusing on it in his head means less time wondering what’s on Wilson’s mind. He pauses in blending to silently curse himself for always returning to _him_.
“Morning, handsome.”
A thrill of what Nathan assumes is anger shoots down his spine. A hand tries to slide around his shoulder and he catches it sharply, holding it away.
“Now we’re holding hands,” Wilson says. _His grip is so fucking strong_ , his brain says, _I wonder how it would feel_ –
Nathan lets go. Wilson pulls a bottle out the refrigerator.
“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Nathan asks, eyeing him. Wilson bites the cap off.
“Yes,” he says obtusely. He puts the cap into Nathan’s back jeans pocket and smiles as he drinks. He sits in a chair and the bottle thuds down onto the table. He’s watching closer than he would admit out loud.
Nathan pours out his half blended smoothie into a glass. He tries to drink it and grimaces. Behind him, Wilson is tapping his fingers off the bottle glass. Nathan looks around.
“Are you unable to be alone in a room?” he asks.
Wade’s mouth says, “I have a crippling fear of being left alone, actually,” but his thoughts say, _I’d love to be alone in a room with you in other circumstances._
Nathan sighs. The guy is such a fucking oblivious idiot. He’s more transparent than a pane of fucking glass, with all his oh-so secretive glances that he seems to think are so subtle. It’s uncomfortable to do anything with his gaze because Nathan can often predict his thoughts. They are, without fail, crude and sexual and honestly, in a very small way, intriguing – he shakes his head. _No, amusing is the word he meant to use._
“Remember the good old days when you called me names? My favorite was ‘butt plug’. That was cute.”
Nathan tips his smoothie back into the blender. “You haven’t changed at all. My opinion still stands.” |
11c7d437b86542849073fe6942715554 | ['424ec1c2d55a45e782c6a1283ab12509'] | „I thought making this happen then every creature could be free and live as they want.“
„There are already creatures who do as they please in not a good way.“
„…“
„They are called humans. Not every human is good and so are devisl right? In a world like now, people don´t agree with everything which isn´t like them.“
„…“
„Everyone is different, every single one is.“
Lucifer inhaled and just answered with „got it.“ Then he turned back to the others.
„So…what now?—“ Before Abaddon could really finish his question, a huge black smoke cloud appeard behind the 4.
A Deep and dark voice started speaking.
„You may have wounded Me deeply, but I haven´t lost yet. Yes I did lose something. My children, so who you are now doesn´t matter to Me anymore. I banish….Banish all 3 of you! You want to live with humans? Fine have this My Son!“
Before they could answer everything went black.
The felt to the ground.
Their bodies felt numb and heavy, everything was black. They couldn´t even hear their own voices. Everything was quiet and empty.
Is it over now?
Is that it?
Banished from home, living forever with humans?
Never being able to go home?
What is home actually?
Was it really their home?
Or just a place to stay and being slaves?
For being friends with a human, banished from home?
Being chased to death now?
Just because...someone was diffferent than others?
As they all opend their eyes they were on a cold ugly wooden floor.
Everything looked so old and smelled like wood.
„Where the hell are we?“ Asked Abaddon who tried to stand up holding his head like he had an headache.
„Welcome…to the human world…“ Lindsey said while she looked out of the window.
„So we… really got banished to the human world…?“ Alisha said while trying to stand up. | d2c0d122838e4bc5bb09b108cc559d0f | ['424ec1c2d55a45e782c6a1283ab12509'] |
I Missed You!
**Author's Note:**
> Please try to remember and understand that im not that good in english tho.
> So if I write anything in a wrong context, I tried my best.
"What´s wrong Genji?..."
"!?"
Genji looked up to Angela.
She stood a few meters away from him, looking worried and sad while holding her writing board.
She pressed her board against her chest roughly, her hands are pressed together.
"You seem very down since awhile....Are you alright? You know you can tell me everything."
Genji remained silent for a bit, thinking about if it´s true what Angela said....Was he really acting so weird lately?
"Genji? Im worried!"
Angela came closer, trying to soothe him.
"I may not be a therapist but If anything is wrong..You can tell me!"
"It´s nothing, really. Am I really so weird at moment?"
Genji looked light confused at her, folding his hands.
"Well. It´s not that weird...Not at all, Im just worried, since that isn´t usually you."
"Hm...." Genji looked at the ground.
"But if it is nothing, it´s all fine. You don´t have to tell me! Maybe you just don´t feel like it toda--" Angela stopped talking as Genji opened his mouth.
"It´s weird...I feel like everyday...I guess. Nothing is actually different. Just..."
"Just?"
"i don´t know. Since when Am I like this?"
...
"Well Since you left Overwatch, I couldn´t keep an eye on you. And you seem very happy where you live now. Aren´t you?"
"I Am!" Genji replied fastly and kind of loud. This wasn´t usually Genji.
"Then since when are you so downcast? Did something happen while you were away?"
"no...not that I would know"
"hm...nothing?...I talked with Zenyatta a few days ago."
"With Master?...why?"
"You seem like you don´t tell me as much as I expected."
"Like?"
"Like, that you met your brother again!?"
Angela looked kind of furious at him, but again very worried.
"*sigh* How I said you don´t have to tell me everything, but at least don´t lie to me and say nothing happend."
"...Im sorry...It didn´t seemed that important for me to tell you..."
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
Genji twitched back, looking shocked and scared for a second. Angela would never yell at him...She must be very angry.
"I-Im..."
"HE TRIED TO KILL YOU! I WORKED MUCH TO KEEP YOU ALIVE! YOUR OWN BROTHER TRIED TO KILL YOU AND YOU SAY NOW AFTER MEETING HIM AGAIN IT´S NOTHING?!"
Angela is right...it´s actually a big deal.
But it´s his brother. Could he hate him for that?
Sure, he tried to kill him. But He´s still alive!
And he forgave him.
"Genji....Please talk to me...Im so worried...You make me feel like I did something wrong...That I don´t deserve to worry about you--"
"NO! That´s not it...Angela. Im so sorry that I made you worry so much. I really didn´t meant to. I thought if I tell you...You would be mad or more worried about me. And I don´t like that look on you."
"Genji..."
Angela took Genji´s hands, pressed them together and placed her head on them.
"Im sorry for yelling at you. Im just stressed at moment. Of course im worried at you. I saved your life, I gave you a new life...I kind of feel like a mother saying this. I just want to protect you."
Genji blushed
"Y-You don´t have to protect me! really...im fine Angela, I thank you for everything you did for me! I really appreciate that. But since I left Overwatch I try to choose my own way."
"I know, I know...I should stop being such a Mom for everyone."
"That´s not what I meant...Just please try to think about yourself aswell. Many are worried about you too..And that since long."
Angela wiped away a few tears, she looked up looking in Genji´s face. "I know...I give my best to change that!"
Genji gave Angela a kiss on her forehead.
"Take care Angela!"
As soon as Angela was back to normal, she told Genji he was done for the examination.
Genji bowed and left.
When Genji left the building he worried about Angela, and also himself.
He really seemed to have changed since he met his brother again.
"*Sigh* What should I do now?"
Genji looked at the sky, should he go back talking with Angela? Should he just go back home and try to relax? Or...
"No, I can´t..."
Genji started running for no reason, he wasn´t in hurry or anything else. He just wanted to run away, but from who? from what?
After a few minutes he stopped.
"Anija?" He sighted his brother in the distance. What does he do here?
"Anija, what are you doing here?"
Hanzo turned around looking at Genji, kind of shocked...Well since the last meeting it´s not so easy to act like nothing ever happend.
"Could ask you the same!"
"Well, Angela Ziegler was near from my home and wanted to check me."
"I see..."
"You?"
"Just Travelling, like always."
"So you really left Hanamura?"
"...Yes, since then..."
It started pretty arkward, Hanzo started to keep walking. Genji followed him, he couldn´t just let him leave.
"So, do you live somewhere specific?"
"Not really, since I travel a lot I always search for a place to stay for awhile."
"I see..."
As they kept walking in silent for a while, Genji tried to talk again.
"Im glad to see you again..."
Hanzo didn´t really replied to this besides with a "hm"
"Anija, do you have time to talk?"
"About what?"
"About everything...I just want to talk with you more!"
"I don´t have anything to talk about with you..."
Genji stopped walking as Hanzo kept on walking without looking if Genji was still following him.
"Please brother! Just for a little..."
Hanzo aswell stopped walking, he turned his head looking at Genji.
"Please...."
"*sigh*...fine...but not here!"
"Arigato!"
After some time, Genji found a motel near by where both had time to talk alone with no one listening. |
928b8b0bff274117b714f5689c75f967 | ['428fea588eea4687b6a898862977dc4e'] | Soulmate
**Author's Note:**
> It's my first fanfiction/story ever posted here and I wrote it in less than half an hour for writober, so I hope you enjoy it.
I'm gonna say first that I'm not english so, I don't know, maybe something is wrong.
Also I feel like Defalt is a bit OOC, but I always thought that he was so broken because of his brother's death, that he used to be a kind person, but he snapped because of the blackout that killed his brother.
Also, I feel like Aiden is a very good man, but he probably thinks that no one deserves to be hurt by him anymore, so if he one day ever met his soulmate, he would have rejected them.
When Nicky decided not to want me in her life ever again, I felt all the world falling around me; in the beginning I thought to give up my life as the Vigilante, but it isn't worth it. She isn't in my life anymore and she will never be back, so it would be a waste of time, trying to build a new life with someone else.
Here in this world people say that everyone has a soulmate, and if it is true than my died a long time ago, at least it was before meeting him; I don't know how it started, we just met again when I left Maurice alive and I just wanted to free my mind of all the problems and so I escaped to find some peace outside Chicago.
One day I was sitting on a bench, looking at the sunset and I saw a person looking at me from afar, he did it for at least 10 minutes and then approached me. It was Defalt, with his stupid rat mask.
"Hi." He said with his creepy robotic and broken voice.
"How did you find me?" You would think that he answered me, but he didn't. He looked at me for almost one minute and then he was gone.
After that episode I continued thinking about him all day everyday. Why would someone do a thing like that? Showing up, looking at them for ten minutes and then go away when they talk to you? It was weird, but all about Defalt was weird.
It was true, he was acting weird, but we weren't that different.
We wanted revenge for losing someone we loved; I had my revenge, but he lost against T-Bone, from what Ray told me. I thought he was dead from what I've heard, but it seemed like he didn't.
But why showing up like that after two years? I didn't understand, then, one day, he showed up again outside a café where I often went. He sat near me, but he was without the mask. I recognized him for the black and light blue USB cord that was meant the be his tail.
"I hope you won't go away this time." I said, trying to smile. But I didn't in the end. "How did you find me?"
"I just knew you were here, fox." He gave me a creepy and crazy smile, but probably that was the best he could ever do. "You know, I tried escaping from Chicago for a very long time, but I hadn't the reason to do so."
"You just knew? Really?"
"You changed your phone, you don't have a computer and you live in this lost and forgotten place, but a soulmate knows where his other half is." He now was standing near his car. The same car from the last time, or maybe he bought the same one, because I was certain that the last time that car exploded. "I was trying to say that now I have a reason to escape from Chicago, to forget, or at least to move on and try to live again."
For some minutes there was silence. I knew that feeling, the one you feel when you loose someone because of someone else, and you feel like you are broken and lost.
I didn't know, and I still don't know why, but he was looking at me, expecting something, but I didn't do anything.
"I know I'm weird, a psycopath we could say, the way I act is considered immoral, probably you don't want anything to do with me. But it was because of life, I wans't like that before. I was my brother's strenght, but he died in that blackout, and the worst thing, he was my strenght too." He gave me his hand and looked intently at me, holding my hand even more than before.
"I...don't." He looked so tired and mostly, scared by my reaction. I couldn't answer.
He was right, I didn't want anything to do with him, but because I knew I would've hurt him like I did to everyone in my life. He understood, but not in the way I wanted.
"I knew, but I wanted to try." He smiled again.
After that he was in his car, crying, driving back to Chicago.
I never heard of Defalt ever again, no one ever heard of him ever again.
Things could have been different. | accad25484034c5fb4d1bc6c28301f5d | ['428fea588eea4687b6a898862977dc4e'] |
1. Chapter 1
**Author's Note:**
> I always try to write something longer, but I just like too much writing something shorter that catches the characters' feelings
Hope you enjoy
It was a rainy day in Chicago.
I loved rain, it calmed me. It made all better and I loved when the raindrops where falling on my face when I turned and looked at the sky; raindrops fell on my cheek, they guided themselves on my neck, they glided under my sweater. Those where the teardrops that I couldn't cry anymore; crying...because I was alone and I was certain I'd be alone for the rest of my life.
And now I was sitten on the bench, I looked at the sky and I was _crying_.
Nature seemed duller since he died; the trees looked more leafy, and flowers seemed colourless, and the sky cried more year by year. And my heart felt less love by time, the day my brother died something inside me broke. In that moment all seemed lifeless and I, I couldn't accept my brother's death. I decided to avenge my brother, but I failed. And now, I found myself sitten on a bench like a loser, perhaps I should have tried again, or I should have escaped from this crazy life I built for myself. I had the chance to leave all my problems behind and escape, to start again.
But I should have lived without my mask.
It was difficult to show my face in public. My face full of scars.
I looked down and in that moment, a leaf fell on my messy hair. My shoes were wet with rain, a puddle formed around my feet; I looked at it and played with my right foot with a leaf that was in the puddle. Other raindrops fell inside the fountain in front of me and some pigeons quickly flew under the rain.
The leaves that were still on the branches, they were wet too and from them some raindrops fell on my hair.
I heard something, a noise, made by tin cans near the trash that was next to the bench I was sitten on.
I turned and saw a man, he was all wet because of the rain; he had that look, my same look. He stopped walking to look at me because he noticed I was looking at him too. I recognized him, but he couldn't recognize me without my mask.
"Hi." He said still looking at me, then he looked down at my umbrella. "Will you use that?" He said.
"Does it seem like I'm using it? And why should I give it to a stranger?" He peered at me from head to toe.
"Oh my god, you're Defalt, aren't you? You aren't using that, just give that fuckin' umbrella to me. I had a shitty day and I lost my hat too."
"From what did you understand who I am? And by the way nope, no way, this is mine! Just buy one somewhere!"
"Rat, you forgot about that USB cord, the one on your jeans." He said. "Give me the umbrella."
"You have to give me that beautiful leather jacket." And in that moment he clenched his fists, but then he laughed. It was so beautiful, hearing someone laughing; at the Ambrose Theather I heard people laughing, but their laughs were fake. Instead his seemed so true, a laugh that was hidden for too long, full of melancholy too.
"Okay, my leather jacket for your umbrella. What do you say?" He took off his jacket and placed it on the bench where I was sitten, then he reached for me to take the umbrella.
"Funny, Fox. Take your jacket back and sit next to me." At first he hesitated, but then he sat next to me; he put his arm around my shoulder to stand closer to me. "I like rainy days. They calm me." I said and then I leaned on his shoulder.
"Yeah, me too."
2. Audio logs
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Aiden and Defalt meet again. After some weeks together, Aiden finda some audio logs
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> I wanted to writer something like this for a very long time
Also, I tried to write something happier but, you know, I only writer sad things
Enjoy!
### **13th of November, 2014**
#### It was a cold night of November, I was in an alley crouching in the corner of a building with my arms around my body. It was very cold, my breath trembled and it was cold, my lips were almost purple, but in spite of everything I could not hear anything but the anger I felt.
My heart was beating fast, the eyebrows were frowning, my nails dug into my sweatshirt.
I found the strenght to get up, opened the door from the back of the building and went in my apartment. I had too much on my mind, I sat on my bed...thoughts were devouring me.
I put my hands on my head, I sank my fingernails, I wanted to drive away those thoughts...and the entire world from my mind and from my miserable existence.
I got up, put music at its highest level; finally I stopped thinking, now I was worried of people that could call the police because of the music that was way too loud.
Maybe they called the police already.
Maybe this time they would shoot me.
I hoped so.
### **20th of November, 2014**
I entered a cafe and there was the Fox.
He didn't recognize me because I was without my mask. I got his attention, we talked a bit, maybe three hours...probably the best hours of my life. It was beautiful talking to him when he didn't try to kill me because I stole some datas from him. We had so much in common.
Since that day...he became my obsession.
### **26th of November, 2014 ** |
16ea926effd4469083c387c8b2f87788 | ['42b75c1950444294b14d886730160465'] | Of course she had access to it as she was instated Head Girl by McGonagall when she returned to Hogwarts for her eighth year. Due to her escapades last year with the chosen one and his dim-witted best friend, McGonagall had chosen her to be Head Girl as in her opinion it was completely unfair that her best student had missed such an honourable privilege for saving the lives of so many. And as an eighth year, she also got extra benefits on top of those given to Prefects e.g. no curfew. This leads us back to our current predicament.
_I'm Head Girl_ , She stressed, _I have an excuse to be here. He's a teacher! Don't they have their own private bath in their quarters?_
So why in Merlin's name was he here in the PREFECT'S bathroom? (Although if his own bath was anything similar to her own she couldn't blame him for wanting to use a different one.) But why this one? And why did it have to be while she was here?
_Maybe he has other intentions? An ulterior motive…Focus Hermione!_ She snapped at herself. _Why didn't you just return to your own room like you intended to? Stupid, stupid-_
"I know you're there."
Her heart stopped. Time seemed to freeze as she sat as still as a statue. A million different scenarios began to run through her head as she desperately tried to think of a way to escape this nightmare she was currently living.
_Did he see me or is he just guessing? Maybe if I don't move he'll think somebody just forgot their clothes…and he'll leave. Oh sweet Merlin…as much as I've always wanted this moment to happen, I never quite imagined it like this! So…..embarrassing, so…hot! Gees, I've really got to stop thinking these things! He's just behind those towels. And he's a teacher!_ _It's highly inappropriate to be here, let alone my disturbing thoughts as well._
_So now what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to escape this room whilst he's here? Come on Hermione, think!_
Little did she know but while she was so deep in conflict with her own mind, Professor Snape slowly began to swim closer and closer to the edge of the bath, right next to the pile of towels Hermione was currently hiding behind. Being the snide professor that he was and given that he loved to humiliate students as much as possible, he suddenly had a marvelous idea.
"I don't bite," He said smiling mischievously, knowing the effect this statement would have, "Although if you don't leave immediately the consequences will be severe, Miss Granger."
The words rolled off his tongue like music to her ears and she stifled to suppress a groan.
"But bats do bite, Professor. And you being the bat of the dungeons have the biggest bite of them all," Hermione countered before realizing what she had done.
_Oh sweet Merlin's knickers._ She thought hiding her face in her hands. _He definitely knows it's you know that you've opened your big gob. You idiot, Hermione! Why couldn't you just keep your trap shut for once? This just keeps on getting worse and worse. Now what are you going to do? Shit, I need to get out of here before I get myself into even more trouble._
Hermione thought for a moment before quickly reaching round and grabbing a towel from the pile. She hurriedly wrapped it around herself, taking a moment to indulge in it's soft touch before hastily making sure that every part of her body was covered up as she slowly stood up.
Just as Professor Snape was about to pull himself out of the water and confront the child, Hermione suddenly darted out from behind the towels. She froze for a second, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open showing the sheer shock at how close he was to her. She took two slow steps backwards and then sprinted off in the direction of her clothes. Whilst rushing to gather her clothes she was hurriedly mumbling something about an apology and leaving. Both were completely inaudible to Professor Snape, but it mattered not.
"Miss Granger" Snape said, raising his voice slightly to ensure he was heard over incessant mumbling.
She stopped.
"Look at me" He continued harshly.
She rotated slowly on the balls of her feet until she was looking directly at him, the fear in her eyes still present. She shuffled slightly to ensure her towel wasn't slipping as she attempted to hold all of her clothes and retain her modesty.
" I expect to see you at 7pm sharp tomorrow."
"But - "
"No excuses, Miss Granger. You'll have enough time to explain your indecency in tomorrow's detention. Now, I advise that you go into the toilet and change. Quickly. Merlin forbid what Filch would do if he caught you wandering the halls in such little attire."
"S…sorry Professor," She stammered as she ran towards the toilets and closed the door behind her.
_What a complete git!_ She thought, _I forgot that he hadn't changed after the war. You would think that me saving his life would have made him slightly less hostile towards me. I wish. And how am I going to explain to Ginny that I'm missing another girl's night because I've got detention. Oh fuck. And it's not even my bloody fault._ | 57551ffb45ea4c40b239523892096190 | ['42b75c1950444294b14d886730160465'] | She promptly changed and rushed out of the toilet only muttering another quick apology to Professor Snape as she collected her bag before running straight out of the bathroom. She didn't stop running until she got to her bedroom, not caring that Filch had been standing right outside the door as she burst out of the bathroom. Once she was safe in the confines of her room she flung her to the floor and fell on to her bed in a heap of tears. The tears continued with the spluttering sobs until the early hours of the morning finally brought her sleep.
3. Chapter 3: The Calm Before The Storm.
**A/N : This is my HUGE apology. I'm really really really really really sorry for not updating sooner. After I got back from Spain I only had one week before moving house/ country and so everything has been a bit hectic for me these past few weeks. I've just moved to Germany from the UK but now everything is settled I finally have the time to write again. I will try and update again this week to make up for my months during exams etc. where I didn't update. I'm so sorry guys.**
**This story is now also available on Fanfiction.net, for those of you who prefer using that site. Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10409621/1/The-Prefect-s-Bathroom**
**Got back from Spain a few weeks ago with my mediocre tan *groans* to 55 emails *groans again*, however when reading through them I found that at least 40 were from you guys following and favourite-ing this story. I LOVE YOU ALL! I cannot express how happy those emails made me! I just love you all to my heart's content. Also 9 of those were new story updates from fanfics that I'm reading… [Which by the way, if anyone wants any story recommendations for any Harry Potter ship then I can recommend loads! Mainly Snamione but I have loads others stored too. Just PM me. (Hilarious one at the moment which made me fall off my bed laughing…good read but incomplete).]**
**As always please rate and review, they mean a lot and give me my much needed motivation. Love you guys, happy reading. X**
Chapter 3: The Calm Before The Storm.
Hermione awoke the next morning feeling no more refreshed or rested than she had been the night before. Although her sleep had been dreamless and uninterrupted, she felt as though she hadn't slept in weeks.
Rolling over, noticing her still fully-clothed self, Hermione took in the typical Scottish April showers which only disheartened her further. Instead of the stereotypical spring weather of gentle sun, sweet flowers and cool breezes, Scotland always only received rain, late-blooming snow drops and bitter winds which required thick winter clothing. Today was no different and certainly not looking like a good day.
That's when it hit her.
Her eyes grew gradually wider and filled with terror as memories of last night's encounter slowly flooded back to her.
" _I know you're there."_
" _I don't bite."_
" _But bats do bite, Professor. And you being the bat of the Dungeons have the biggest bite of them all."_
"No. No. No. No…." She murmured, rolling back and forth, hugging her pillow for dear life. Slow fresh tears now lining her horror-struck face. The memories she believed to be a nightmare continued to fill her every thought as she realised, despairingly, that unfortunately it was not all just a dream.
A sudden sickness washed over Hermione which sent her darting to the bathroom in an unbalanced flurry. Whilst bending over the sink she noticed her dishevelled reflection in the mirror. Her red raw eyes and tears streamed cheeks combined with scruffy hair and ragged clothing was not a pretty sight. This was the final straw for Hermione as she vomited into the basin. She began to sweat and shake as the panic and realisation continued to dawn on her like a recurring nightmare. Sinking to the floor, tears now in full flow, a knocking came at the door. This only worried Hermione even more as she spiralled into hyper-ventilation. What if it was him? Had he noticed she was late for breakfast and come to tantalise the girl? How would she explain to anyone who came in, her current state of misdemeanour? She didn't move.
**( A/N: I was so tempted just to leave it here…but I didn't)**
* * *
Ginny, growing worried at the lack of response at the door, and having checked everywhere else, unwarded the dorm (Hermione's wards weaker to her friend) and let herself in.
"Hermione?" she asked, stepping gingerly into the room. She heard a sob, and what almost sounded like a sigh of relief covered by more sobs, come from the bathroom. Ginny ran towards the bathroom, calling out again.
"Hermione? Are you okay?!" She continued, pushing the door open. Only to immediately sink to the floor beside her best-friend.
"Oh hunny," she said exasperatedly. "What happened to you?"
Hermione only sank further to the ground, relaxing into her friend's warm embrace.
"Shhhh, it'll be okay." Ginny said reassuringly as she gently brushed Hermione's hair out of her face and into a loose ponytail. "Come on, let's get you clean."
Ginny slowly got up and helped Hermione onto her feet, only small sobs now escaped her as she clung to Ginny's steady arm for support.
Taking her friend by the arm, Ginny gathered Hermione's toiletries bag before gently pushing her in the direction of the bath.
"You get washed and I'll get you some clean clothes. Then you can tell me what all of this is about okay?"
Hermione nodded gently before turning away from Ginny and beginning to disrobe herself. |
78fd046e697841dca273ed500c591238 | ['42e6916888ed4321a7a09d2d415ada85'] | Dipper cautiously took out the pocket knife he always had in the pocket of his pants while he was out in Gravity Falls just in case (who knows what might jump at you when you're taking a stroll through a haunted forest), and he willed himself into a fighting stance as he stalked toward the tree.
Closer and closer. The small thing was making the noise. He heard small grunts, so it wasn't an animal, but some kind of monster that ruled this forest. Closer and closer and closer.
He heard the voice first, "Well, well, if it isn't Dipper Pines!"
Dipper immediately dropped out of his stance. It was Jeff the gnome. "Ugh, what do you want, man?"
Jeff snarled and crossed his tiny arms. "If you get that knife out of my face, then I might tell you."
Dipper looked at his knife. "It isn't in—never mind." He pocketed it. "Were you spying on us?"
"Seems like the little boy has grown up! He has a man!" The gnome smiled up knowingly at him and then adjusted his red, pointy hat. Dipper exchanged a look with Bill. "Anyway, is Mabel with you?"
A muscle twitched in Dipper's face. "No, she's not with us. Forget it, she's never going to be with you. It's been years." Bill made a face. "C'mon, Bill, let's go." They turned to walk away.
But then Jeff stiffened. "Bill Cipher?"
_Oh no. Whoops._
Dipper saw Jeff's eyes studying Bill's appearance. Bill himself wasn't doing anything but sizing up the tiny gnome. Gnomes were known to be quite.. _.bitey._
Jeff snapped his head toward Dipper. "Is that _Bill Cipher?_ " He spat his name like it was venom.
"I've changed," Bill said, stepping forward. Jeff stepped back. "You don't have to believe me. My powers are gone—I'm a human. I'm no threat anymore."
"Fine but know this: make one wrong move and the forest will rise against you and take you out like last time." He shakily met Bill's patient gaze and said, "This time, there will be no mercy." He smoothed out his brown beard and left.
The silence left his wake. Dipper could hear nothing but the chill wind—the streams were frozen, animals hibernating, monsters hiding, everything was silent all but the wind.
"You have no powers?" Dipper flashed his eyes to Bill, who was looking at his shoes. "You never told me."
Bill snapped his hazel eyes up to meet his. "I didn't want to disappoint anyone. I used the last of my power to save Mabel in that cave from the spider-lady." He broke off his stare and flopped down on a log.
Dipper breathed in and followed, sitting delicately on the cold and frozen log.
Bill's eyes were red-rimmed. "It's so different, it's like—" he shook his head and looked at his shoes again. "It's like I can't do _anything_ anymore." Dipper was about to protest, but, "Back then, I had always relied on my magic to help me through things, even _him_. Now I'm relearning how to live as an _actual human_ like I did 200 years ago. It's so different and I'm coping." Bill took Dipper's hand. "I'm learning with _you_."
"You should have told me, still."
Bill smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I promise, no more secrets."
"Alright. I promise too."
Bill held out his pinky.
Dipper laughed into his free hand. "Oh my God, Bill, seriously?"
Bill just shook it for emphasis.
"Fine." Dipper held out his pinky and intertwined it with Bill's. He bit his lip. "Better than a handshake and making an actual deal."
Bill kissed Dipper playfully on the nose. "Much better."
**___**
They drove over to Greasy's after those encounters for a well-deserved lunch.
When they walked in, Dipper inhaled the homey aroma of pancakes and coffee. They slid into a booth and Lazy Susan seems to have not aged a bit, came over to them and asked them what they wanted to order.
"I'll be right back with your orders!" Susan "winked" with her open eye while her other eye adorned with eyeshadow remained closed.
Dipper smiled awkwardly and turned back to Bill. "So uh, what's your favorite thing about being a human?" He wanted to keep this conversation light, considering the stuff that happened today earlier.
Bill toyed with the end of a napkin. "I've found that I like drawing things?" He looked up and straightened his back. "It started a few years ago when I got really bored with my life and there wasn't really anything I could do except walk around town and sleep and watch TV in my apartment. And then I started to draw." His cheeks began to turn pink and he crossed his arms. "But I'm not even that good—"
"Show me."
"What?"
Dipper dug out a pen out of his backpack. "Here." He nodded his head toward the napkin Bill had been playing with earlier. "On that napkin."
Bill unfolded his arms, smiled at him, and took the pen.
He was drawing even when Lazy Susan came and delivered their food. He refused to let Dipper see it. He was covering it up with his arm and was almost hyper-focused and he cursed softly when the napkin tore a little bit.
Finally, when Dipper was halfway through his meal and Bill's only had a few bites out of his own, Bill was done. He leaned back against the seat and bit his lip.
Dipper grinned. "Did you finish?"
Bill's mouth curved into a smile as he gave the folded up napkin to Dipper. "Yeah. Open it up." | 5b5e4e6fc08741a2930a6ba97a9b0cf9 | ['42e6916888ed4321a7a09d2d415ada85'] | They went inside and checked in. The secretary looked bored. She had the same face the entire time they were checking in and she didn't even said hi. Pacifica said an energetic thank you! but the lady didn't respond.
They all excitedly followed Pacifica down the hall down a few turns and they finally reached the door to the pool. Paz brought out a key and opened it. It was...breathtaking.
The pool was turquoise and the large windows brought a lot of sunlight into the pool and the snow brightened it. Lights weren't needed. The wall on the opposite from the windows and on the sides were dark bricks. There was a waterfall going into the pool. That was the only noise in their.
Mabel immediately shrugged off her clothes, leaving the pink bathing suit on, and whipped out a Bluetooth speaker- how _did she get that?_ -and her phone. "Time for music!" She declared a little too loudly in the empty room. She finally turned on some upbeat and popular music which filled the room. She found a shelf that she could put it on instead of the chair and jumped right in with a big _whooo!_
Dipper chuckled and shook his head. He chose a chair in the corner and put his stuff down and left his T-shirt and swim trunks on. He looked over to Bill, who seemed to have brought an actual swimming shirt, where he put his stuff down. He stopped looking at him when he started to take his shirt off, but-
Dipper started. "Bill? What's on your back?" His breath came in quick pants.
Bill stilled and still had his sleeves on his arms. He turned quickly to hide his back. Whatever relaxed look he had on his face was gone now. "I-uh, well, they're..."
Dipper took a few steps forward and forcefully shoved Bill back toward him. He couldn't feel his face when he took in his back. The multiple burn marks on his back were large and they were a screaming red. "B-Bill, what are-"
"Car accident." Bill said and turned to face him again. Bill glared at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with him when he pulled on his other shirt fit for swimming. The conversation was finished. Dipper knew he was lying. It wasn't a car accident. He knew how to read people. He wasn't stupid.
Dipper scowled at him, got ready, and got into the pool. He stole one of the tubes from the girls when they weren't looking. He moved to the other side of pool away from them by his chair and away from the waterfall. He lost himself in the music for the second time that day. He was almost asleep, but Pacifcia waded over to him.
"Hey, we're gonna play Marco Polo. Wanna join us?" She pointed with a thumb to Mabel and Bill. "Don't be a loser, Dipper." She added.
Dipper sighed through his nose and got off of the tube and put it at the corner of the pool. "Coming," he answered.
They played 15 minutes of Marco Polo before getting bored, and then they decided to race each other. During Marco Polo, Bill was it one time and Bill was getting so close to him that when he finally touched him, the touch burned his skin. He heard Mabel and Paz snicker from where they were out. Also, Pacifica won the race. He knew that she took swimming lessons so he knew that she would win or at least tie with someone else.
They also had a snack bar in the lobby. They looked like that they restocked it with unhealthy fried food and stuff every once in a while, it looked like. No wonder this place was so expensive! They ate their free food as a snack for a few minutes.
Dipper settled with a corndog and chips on his plate and slouched in one of the cushion chairs, happy to be out of the pool and happy to satisfy his hunger. He eventually ran out of food and got another corndog. He was so exhausted.
Pacifica yawned from her spot on the couch next to Mabel. "Maybe we should just go back and take a nap in there, or something." Everyone nodded in agreement and went back to their private pool.
Everyone except Dipper went to their claimed fold-out chairs and laid down and closed their eyes. Dipper went to the window and pulled two out of the four blinds and went back to his own chair. Now-tired Mabel mumbled in acknowledgment to him.
Dipper laid down and put his coat over his body and listened to the waterfall. He was at those stages where he was tired, but not sleepy. He could hear Mabel's snoring and Pacifica's steady breaths.
He gave up sleeping and got up and put his legs in the pool. Right now, his mind was somewhere else. It was nowhere.
Well, it was nowhere until Bill sat next to him and put his legs into the pool as well. Their shoulders touched.
"Hey." Said Rephic.
"Hi," replied Dipper. "What really happened to your back?"
He wasn't sure Bill was breathing beside beside him. "I can't tell you," he whispered.
Dipper nodded, turning his head away.
"I will tell you someday, but not now."
Dipper straightened and turned back to Bill. "Promise? You better not be lying to me."
Bill smiled a lopsided smile. It was cute. "I promise."
Dipper smiled softly and looked at Bill's eyes for the first time. At first, he thought that his eyes were brown but...they were a deep hazel. It was beautiful. He felt Bill's breath on his lips. They were only centimeters apart, Dipper realized. Now or never, he told himself as their noses grazed against each other.
Then there was a triangle.
A triangle in the middle of his vision. They were back. He thought those were gone. |
d670b714128642089122ade91dcc68f5 | ['431268f8ebb84d34bdc0affb54ef60c9'] | Midoriya glanced down at himself. His dark green jumpsuit was form-fitting, lined with black markings and about as close to the drawing sitting in his charred notebook as could be expected. The biggest changes were his mask had been changed to a rabbit-eared hood, the smile separated into a thick mouth guard tall enough to cover his scar, and a set of thin sharp spines running along the outside edge of his forearms. He spared Gran a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”
The train was blessedly quiet as he followed Gran on. He still hesitated when Gran motioned to him to take the window seat but at the man’s stern look he managed to swallow his nerves and gingerly sit down, settling his arms carefully so he wouldn’t cut up the cushions. The sun had set by the time they passed through Hosu and he forced himself out of a sleepy daze to pull out his phone. Iida had read his last text but hadn’t replied.
Gran scoffed. “You kids and your phones…”
Biting back a smile, Midoriya started sending another text to his friend.
The entire train jerked and he only avoided slamming his head into the seat in front of him because Gran threw out an arm to keep him back. Midoriya’s skin prickled. “What--?”
With a screech the wall of the train smashed in a few seats ahead of them, dumping in a hero whose name tickled Midoriya’s memory and a beast pinning him down. The pale creature’s bulbous eyes rolled in its head, the lights of the somehow still-lit train car glinting off of its exposed brain.
“Noumu, here?”
Gran was already standing on his seat, arm still out to keep Midoriya where he was. “Stay here, I’ll take care of this.”
He blasted forward, ricocheting off seats before crashing into the Noumu and knocking it out of the car. Midoriya tumbled into the aisle, scrambling to the opening in time to see the Noumu crash into a distant building. An explosion cracked through the night air as another building burst into flames, plumes of smoke dotting the skyline.
“Hey kid, get away from there!”
He tore his eyes away from the destruction to glance back at the train attendant. A handful of passengers helped the injured hero upright behind him and Midoriya looked from them to the fires before giving the attendant an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just do nothing.”
The wind rushing through his ears almost drowned out the man’s panicked shouting as Midoriya leapt out into the night.
**Notes for the Chapter:**
> Sorry for the delay on this, guys ;w; Even though it's not official I've been aiming for once a month longer updates for this and I swear I started this update, like, three weeks ago but this 'arc' went longer than I anticipated (~18K words) so I finally decided to just split it up. The second part is all typed up and should be posted Friday!
7. Hosu
He lost track of Gran’s battle before he made it back to street level so he followed the sounds of screaming and crashing out into a plaza. A second Noumu was surrounded by a group of pro heroes, swinging lanky arms and growling as best it could with its brain in what looked like its mouth. Midoriya turned to get out of their way but yell pulled his attention back as a sidekick tried to dodge an attack too late and was snagged by a spidery hand.
There were plenty of pros around but Midoriya as always didn’t think before activating Full Cowl and dashing forward, leaping into the fray and slashing with a spiny forearm. The Noumu rattled and swung at him with its free arm so he kicked off of its bony wrist to get in close to its face, landing a hit on its brain. With a burbling scream it dropped the sidekick and he flailed as arms closed around him, carrying him back to the ground before the Noumu could catch him. He scrambled away as soon as there was solid ground under his feet and the pro waved him further back. “Don’t try to be a hero, kid. We’re evacuating that way. Go, we’ve got this under control!”
Midoriya started to argue when he heard a semi-familiar voice rise above the destruction. It wasn’t the voice itself that caught his attention.
“Tenya! Tenya, where are you?!”
Zeroing in on the voice he finally placed how he knew the hero. It was Manual, a pretty low-visibility hero. He also happened to be Iida’s supervisor.
Heart in his throat he flashed past the battle to catch up with the pro. “Excuse me, Manual-san!”
The hero didn’t seem to notice him until he was right in front of him, jumping before pulling on a smile. “Hey, you should—“
“You’re Iida Tenya’s supervisor, right? He’s my classmate and I’ve been trying to message him but he isn’t answering.”
The smile slid away and Manual’s eyes wandered out again. “He was right behind me when we left headquarters but we must’ve gotten separated on our way here. I can’t imagine why he’d run off on his own, not at a time like this.”
“Maybe he saw—“ Midoriya’s reassurances faded as the connection, Iida’s reason for choosing the Normal Hero Agency, finally snapped into place.
Hosu.
The Hero Killer.
He got the direction Manual had come from and took off, Full Cowl sparking up around him. He nearly dropped his phone as he fumbled it out to try calling Iida, hoping he was just being paranoid. With each unanswered ring his heart dropped a little more. Beneath the regressing sounds of fighting and chaos he finally heard a low scream. It sounded angry and was coming from away from the Noumu. | 5252a1da946e4cf485eb81924e32f238 | ['431268f8ebb84d34bdc0affb54ef60c9'] | “Right, because you know my fighting style,” Todoroki scoffed. “I get it. For a moment I almost thought you trusted me or something.”
Deku gave him an odd look, something caught between thoughtful and wary, before slowly crossing the roof towards him. Shouto held perfectly still as for the first time he willingly came close enough to touch, kneeling in front of him with so little space between them Todoroki could see just a hint of freckles peeking past the edge of his mask.
“I do trust you,” Deku murmured. Neither of them moved, gazes held, for what was probably seconds but felt like hours.
Deku suddenly jumped back, face darkening in a blush. “I-I need to go before I’m late. If I don’t see you until after, good luck on the raid!”
Todoroki didn’t get a chance to say anything before the vigilante dropped over the edge of the roof and was swallowed up by the darkness.
Stepping into the conference room, Shouto was displeased to see a spiky head of red hair. Kirishima waved and he smiled back, but the scathing look Bakugou shot him discouraged him from going to sit with them. He circled around the table instead, stopping to pull out a chair on the other side. The chair resisted being moved and let out a startled squeak.
“Oh, Hagakure.” He quickly let go. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
The vest the woman was wearing turned back towards him and a glove rose to wave excitedly. “I-It’s okay, I’m used to it by now!”
He settled into the chair next to her a little guiltily. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”
“I don’t,” she sighed, hands curling on the tabletop. “B-but Jeanist-sama thought I would be helpful for this mission and talked me into changing my mind.”
“Well, we’ll be happy to have you.”
“Thanks.”
She turned back forward and fell silent, fingers knotted in front of her. She didn’t move again as Setsuna, Awase, and Uraraka came in. Frowning, Todoroki awkwardly placed his hand over hers, earning another surprised squeak. “It’ll be okay. Ojirou and your son are safe at UA and we’ll catch these villains before they can cause any more harm.”
“You sound like Mashirao,” she mused, untangling her fingers to hold his hand. “Thank you, again.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and let go, turning back to the rest of the table as Aizawa ushered the stragglers in and shut the door. Shinsou skulked in the corner as their mission leader took the seat at the head of the table. “Let’s get right into it.”
There were ten of them. Uraraka was leading the Infiltration team, paired up with Tohru and Shinsou. Setsuna was on team Standby with Aizawa, Honenuki and Awase to lend support as needed. Kirishima, Bakugou and Todoroki were set to secure the perimeter.
“There is a chance that they will know that we’re coming.” Aizawa said. “Therefore, Kirishima will be doubling as bait to draw potential reinforcements off the main two teams. Keep in close contact with your teammates and the instant you see any sign of trouble notify team Standby. The more villains we capture the more opportunities we will have in the interrogation room. Questions?”
Shouto raised his hand. “Is it really wise to set a trap using Kirishima in the middle of an operation like this? If something happens to the Infiltration team he could be left vulnerable or vice versa.”
“Do you doubt yours and Bakugou’s ability to protect him?”
Resisting the urge to look across the table at his team-mates, he reluctantly gave up. “No, sir.”
“That’s super manly that you’re worried about me, but I’m not a sitting duck either.” Kirishima called. “We’ve got this.”
“How will the teams meet up?” Uraraka asked.
“Each team will have two rendezvous points near the site. Point A will be where you enter from and B will be where you join up in case something goes wrong. We will all keep comms open for the entire mission to keep contact constant.”
“Is there a risk of them detecting a signal? Maybe we should ask Jirou or Kaminari to come as counter-surveillance.” Awase suggested.
“Both are members of Creative Beats which has elected not to get involved. There is a chance of discovery but Shinsou’s intel suggests that chance is low. Anything else?”
Across the table, Bakugou raised his hand. “I want to request a team swap.”
Krishima groaned quietly beside him. Aizawa barely looked at him. “Teams are non-negotiable, unless there is a serious issue that I should be aware of.”
Bakugou glowered but said nothing else.
“If that is all I shall see you again tonight at the first rendezvous point. Meeting adjourned.”
Shouto dared to hope that would be the end of Bakugou’s fit. He should have known better.
“Teams, first check in.”
“Team A, checking in.”
“B, checking in.”
“C, checking in,” Shouto murmured. He was at the fence line of the property, sticking to the shadows as he watched the glimpses of the warehouse he got past the hulking silhouettes of shipping containers and abandoned administrative offices. Footsteps crunching on the path behind him pulled his focus back as his teammates approached.
Red Riot kept sending frustrated glances at the road behind them. He reached up to mute his comm, speed-walking to keep stride with Bakugou. “Katsuki, now’s not the time.”
“Seems like a perfect time to me,” he replied with a too-calm voice.
Shouto barely hesitated before muting his comm as well. “Perfect for what?”
“How long have you been selling us out to that loser?”
Shouto frowned. “What?”
“That’s how the villains knew about his quirk weakness, right? And how they got that bomb into your old man’s office.”
“Deku had nothing to do with the bombing,” Shouto replied icily. |
5c5bb29948944e9db4169af658bb23ba | ['4332fad3e96e4030a1843893629c1137'] | Felicity closes her eyes, takes a steadying breath. She gets overwhelmed so easily these days. Feelings come and go as they please, because she’d been so aggressively unwelcoming of them before. It’s as if this is payback. But at least this time is not that much of a mystery why: her mother’s little sniff and the heavy sincerity of her tone is explanation enough.
“Okay then. We can spend the last day of Hanukkah together.”
“Oh hopefully I’ll be over sooner than that.”
“Okay.”
“Though maybe it would be best if we order out instead of making a mess of your nice kitchen.”
Felicity laughs, tries not to think of the twinge she feels when they both so carefully skirt around their wounds, the way only mother and daughter would know how.
“Yeah, that would be for the best.”
That night she whispers the prayers as she lights the first candle, and wonders if this means anything to anyone. But that doesn’t matter in the end, because this means something to her.
The last time she lit the menorah she was a different person. A whole lifetime holding another person’s hand has passed between then and now. But she made it this far, even through things she never would have thought she would surpass. And for that, she gives thanks to whoever is listening.
-
Diggle’s and Lyla’s house is loud and cheery when she gets there, happiness alive enough in the air that even Rene cracks a smile or two, every now and then.
He has a cut on his right cheek from the team’s last meeting with Prometheus, which he barely escaped alive from. Felicity patched him up herself. Tried to cheer him up reminding him that at least he was still breathing and his eye was undamaged, though his pretty face might look a bit worse for wear than usual. For once, Rene hadn’t mouthed off at her, staring at the floor the whole time. Felicity had known where his mind was, despite his stubborn silence. Evie, Curtis and Rory had saved his life and Evie still moved stiffly because Prometheus had almost dislocated her shoulder. But that was what having a team was all about and she needed to figure out a way to make Rene understand that.
She watches as Thea pushes Rene to down on the couch despite his protests and replaces the bandage on his cheek. Rene argues, but it doesn't escape Felicity's notice that he doesn't really push her away.
“Is it bad that I’m lowkey worrying about this?”
Felicity jumps a little, turning to her right, where Oliver is standing. Before she can say anything, he hands her a warm cup of herbal tea and when she scrunches up her nose at it, Oliver points at Paul.
“Doctor's orders.” he says softly, and from the other side of the room, Paul winks at her. Felicity makes a face at him, but doesn’t say no.
“I have something for you too.” He tells her, as he shifts on his feet a little bit.
“You do?”
“Yeah - it’s the first day of Hanukkah, so-”
He looks nervous, almost bashful in that way he gets when he really cares and has difficulties containing it, and Felicity feels embarrassment crawling up her neck, heating her cheeks.
She bites her lip. “I didn't get you anything…”
“It’s fine, it’s not that kind of gift. Wait.”
Oliver goes into the kitchen and comes out in a moment and hands her a box wrapped in white paper. She can tell what’s inside just from the scent coming off it, halfway through the unwrapping.
“Oooh!”
The latkes inside look about as delicious as she knows they taste. Felicity looks up with a grin so wide she can feel her cheeks aching.
“Still my favorites.” She tells him, biting her lip to contain her smile.
The corners of his eyes crinkle, warmth softening his whole face, even his posture loosening. “I know.”
Felicity looks away, nods. Of course he does. He did this for her for last year too.
And it’s as if someone pulled a rug from right under her feet, making her fall headfirst into that memory. ( _dunks her head under, more like, because she’s been swimming in it all day, kicking her feet and keeping her chin up to stay afloat._ ) That morning, before all the violence and the pain, there had been Oliver in their kitchen, in an old T shirt and those sweatpants, trying to make latkes for her like he hadn’t been practicing for it all week. And her in her pajamas and fuzzy socks, sneaking her arms around him and her hands down his abs and the front of his sweats, dropping kisses along his shoulders and the back of his neck, calling shivers from him ( _so satisfying still, how she could make him shake_ ), trying to persuade him to make out instead. And there had been his warm chuckle and his fingers tickling her side without turning away from the pan, and her squeal and muffled laughter into the back of his shoulder, because her mother had been asleep upstairs.
( _and his hands on the back of her thighs lifting her up on the counter. His helpless laughter when her trailing fingers went up his ribs and then sneakily into his armpits, tickling him back. The way he did not shiver away but actually held her tighter, pulling her ass right at the edge of the counter, helping her wrap her legs around him. that_ _kiss_ _\- deep and slow, hands framing her face the way he did when he was overwhelmed. his sigh, the fine tremble of his fingers as he melted into her…_ )
Felicity looks down, blinking fast. She bites her tingling lips, shakes her head trying to shake the invasive memory out. | f93f0623fd554c33bf33e222162848dc | ['4332fad3e96e4030a1843893629c1137'] |
Warm
> _My love is honey tongue._
> Dandelion wine in a pitcher.
> Thirsty love.
> My love licks it’s fingers
> before it has even fed.
> My love is peach juice
> dripping down the neck.
> Soft hands holding the
> jaw open love.
> Summer love. Sticky sweet,
> sticky sweat love.
> My love is alive. Warm.
> It lives.
> It breathes.
>
> LINK, _**Warm**_ after _“Love, Gravity, and Other Forces” by Anita Ofokansi_
“Tell me something nice.” She says, a whisper close to his ear. She’s hugging his arm with both of hers, and he can feel every inch of her, warm and close, from her breasts pressed tight against his arm, to her curled legs and her chin resting on his shoulder. “Something fun we did together.”
He knows this game now. She wants to see if she can remember it, any given moment he tells her about. ( _she thinks he doesn’t know, but she’s spent whole nights looking at pictures of them, videos he told her about. It makes her head ache, but she won’t stop. They don’t talk about that night he found her crying, looking at a life she didn’t remember, trying to hold on to it and watch it slip through her tear-wet fingers._ )
It’s not really that strange that his first thought is a jumbled mass of memories from their trip together.
He remembers all the bars they’ve been to, all the 24 hour diners, how she’d steal his pickles and then smile cheekily. That time on deserted beach on the shores of Mexico, distracted for a moment by something he can’t even remember now, and then turning to Felicity and finding her in just her straw hat and a violently-pink pair of bikini bottoms held together by a couple of strings and a breathless wish, arms above he head soaking in the sun with a pleased smile. (’ _I am_ not _getting sand anywhere near my unmentionables, thank you!’ So he’d flipped them over - rolling around in her squeal and happy giggles - and gotten comfortable on their beach towel as Felicity straightened, using her hands on his pecks as leverage and giving him the kind of sun-soaked view that is still imprinted behind his eyelids in technicolor.)_ He still can’t look at her in a bikini without remembering what it felt like to pull lightly at that hot pink string and watch it unravel.
(’ _We are never having any kind of sex on any beach, ever! Such an overrated fantasy….’ He’d made the mistake of chuckling at her angry mutterings. She’d glared at him, curls everywhere and sun-burnt nose scrunched up. ‘I had sad in places one should never have sand in Oliver!’_
_A couple of days later she agreed it wasn't really sex on the beach if they were in the car_ )
How she looked at him one day, as they were driving - he still has no idea what she had been thinking about ( _remembering_ ) but she’d been flushed and her eyes were dark, her pink lips parted. How hadn’t taken her eyes off him as she slid down on the seat, propping her knee on the dash ( _he’d realized what she was doing but just couldn’t believe it_ ), the skirt of her flirty dress fluttering up and she’d done nothing to stop it - she’d actually itched it up higher and let her head fall backwards just as her hand slipped out of view between her thighs. ( _he tells her later, after he’s parked between some rocks only mostly out of view, to never do that again while he’s driving_ ) That particular day had almost ended with them being arrested for public indecency. ( _The smirks she’d given him as she pulled her panties up. ‘Wouldn’t be your first time.’ And how he’d cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Trying to catch up?’ Her chuckle, warm and soothing against his throat. ‘Maybe’_ )
“Our car broke down on night, we didn’t even know where we were. We spent the night on the back seat.” he smiles at those words. He remembers the mischief in her eyes when she’d dragged him in the back seat, entirely too small for anything really, much less for him to lay down in, so she’d sat him there and straddled him, and proceeded to kiss the living daylight out of him.
He turns his head to watch Felicity furrow her brow in concentration. One of her legs is over his lap and he’s running his hand up and down over it absentmindedly. Her smile is soft, almost tentative.
“I wanted to make out. That’s what I said isn’t it? ‘I want to make out like teenagers’.”
It’s _exactly_ what she’d said, biting her lip and giggling as they tried to settle in the tiny back seat.
She beams at him, untangles her arms from around his and slides forward until her thighs bracket his hips, her arms around his shoulders loosely. She brings her face close, just as she had that night and Oliver smiles wide as both his hands make his way up her thighs down her calves, grasp at her ankles and pull her even closer.
“Hi.” She says softly, right against his lips. He brushes them with his, so light it tinkles. Felicity takes the invitation and slants their mouths together. They kiss until they’re both warm again with it, until Oliver melts against the sofa and she’s almost liquid heat against his chest, hands feeling his shoulders, his back his head.
She pulls away to breathe a full breath, and looks at him with hooded eyes and an amused smile.
“Though I have to admit, very little of what we did that night had ever crossed my mind when I was a teen.” She says around that smile that hasn’t left her face in hours. “I fixed the car the next morning too.”
And she sounds so satisfied when she says that. Just as she had that morning, when she’d looked at him with a smudge of car grease across her cheek and her hair in a messy disarray, telling him _‘Pff, I’m no engineer, but I could totally break this car apart and build it up again_.’
Which had lead them to the story about one of her exes who was deeply into monster trucks and the origin of her fear of needles which later turned just a little bit anxiety inducing, after the Count tried to kill her with one.
She remembers those things now, and Oliver watches as it dawns on her. Watches for her flinch, expects it. Holds her with gentle hands that don’t constrain ( _he knows better now_ ) as the memory recedes, falling into place. Another piece of her life she just got back. Usually she goes still and silent afterwards, for hours, but this time she just sighs and lets her forehead rest against his throat, curling her fingers on his collar.
One breath. Two. Three. They fall asleep that way and it’s an accident. They don’t really sleep on small spaces like couches anymore since that time she woke up with a start and fell off, almost hitting her head on the table. But they’re lucky this one time - neither wakes up from a nightmare. Neither scares the other out of sleep. It’s a rarity that becomes a regularity. |
1210042f391142768fb4c48ca7c22351 | ['433a588230ea4164943a932363343cf0'] |
The heart wants what it wants
Mathieu was walking quickly through the streets of this town he’s grown used to know over the past couple of months. He had a cap on that he pulled low to cover his eyes, the coat he was wearing was a size too big to make him look a bit baggier. He made sure to wear clothes he wouldn’t be seen in otherwise. He parked his car a few streets further, never on the same place twice. The route he was taking to where he had to go, he changed every so often. He had nothing with him, except for the key of his car. He left his phone at home and his wallet in the car. He’s clearly not on his way to meet a friend to have a drink with. Mathieu arrived at the building and covered the numberpad with his hand before entering the code. The door opened and he quickly got in. It’s the 24th time he’s done this and even though he hates that this is the way it’s going, he’s not going to be the one calling it off. Mathieu knew he wouldn’t be the first one there so he collected his breath and went past the second door. That’s when he relaxed a little, past this point he’s sure he won’t be meeting anyone that can’t know he’s there. He ran up the stairs and took off his smartwatch turning it off, no one has to know his details of the next hour.
Mathieu was right, when he got up the stairs the door was already open. He opened his coat now and took off his hat, going through his hair before opening the door. He wasn’t nervous, he knew exactly what was going to happen. It was gonna be fast and no one would know about it. He scanned the room when he got in and closed the door behind him, locking it. Just to be sure. Arms wound themselves around him from behind, making his heart jump. Mathieu quickly relaxed in the embrace. He turned around to be faced with his eternal rival, Wout van Aert. Wout pushed Mathieu against the door and kissed him eagerly.
This has all started years ago. Mathieu has known Wout since he was 10. Because they lived too far away from each other, they never actually became friends. Mathieu won every single race he entered and Wout was happy to finish top 10 at that age. They saw each other every weekend but didn’t really pay attention to that too much. It was in 2014 when Wout suddenly had changed a lot. Mathieu still remembers the first time he noticed that little Wout had grown out to be a very muscular athlete. That’s also when they started being real competition to each other. From not really bothering the presence of the Belgian guy, he suddenly felt a little fire burn every time he saw Wout on the field. He couldn’t really point his finger to what it was, it caused a big tension to grow between the two of them. Behind podium chats became snappy and harsh when no one else was around.
It was Wout who took the initiative to solve this. At the 2014 Nommay World Cup instead of going back to his own team hotel, Wout followed the dutch team to theirs. Mathieu had gone back earlier so he didn’t know that if he opened his hotel door he would see Wout van Aert standing there. The urge to just shut the door again and pretend he wasn’t there was very big. “What are you doing here?” Mathieu asked, he tried to be cool and collected. Even though he felt the opposite of that right now. Wout sighed and looked if there wasn’t anyone in the hallway before he went inside. Mathieu stepped aside, not wanting to be too close to the other guy. Wout closed the door behind him and walked inside, not waiting on Mathieu to do anything. “What’s your problem with me?” Mathieu didn’t move from where he was still standing close to the door. “uhm… is there a problem then?” bad lying, Wout rolled his eyes. “Mathieu, we can’t go on like this.” He raised his voice a little bit, his frustration showed. Mathieu didn’t know why he felt so tingly inside. He didn’t know what was going on either. So he stayed silent. The older guy didn’t take the silence and walked closer. “You’re being immature, look me in the eyes and tell me what’s going on. I want to fix this.” He was standing eye to eye with Wout now and he felt intimidated, he didn’t like looking him in the eyes. It made him feel powerless. Like there was an urge inside of him when that happened. “Mathieu, please” Wout whispered softly and that’s when Mathieu cracked. He didn’t hit him, he didn’t name call him, he didn’t hurt him. Mathieu lost it and kissed him. Now he knew what kind of tension there was between them. It was when Mathieu pushed Wout against the wall that the other man got from under his force and without saying anything slipped out of the room again. | 01331086262749748f9e25479e84e77a | ['433a588230ea4164943a932363343cf0'] |
I'm praying for the end of time so I can end my time with you
**Author's Note:**
> Promt: “They told me I’d forget about you; that I’d move on but it’s been three years and here I am”
_“…We all just let Mathieu van der Poel have his way until it burns us down. And why? Because we love him. So in the end, I’ll always be the fool.” _
_“I got to go Mathieu. I hope you understand. I’ll always remember us this way. Keep care, I love you.” _
Wout his last words have had a very big impact on him. It had taken him a lot time that afternoon to get out of the loft and back home. He arrived home just after Roxanne, who of course was very suspicious. Mathieu knew he wasn’t acting as how he usually was and he couldn’t answer any of her questions. What was he supposed to say to her anyway? ‘_Sorry honey, I’ve been cheating on you, but don’t worry he just broke up with me. So I’m only a bit distant because I’m heartbroken.’_He didn’t want to lose Roxanne as well and he wasn’t going to hurt her so he let himself mourn for an evening. The next day he was back on his perfect boyfriend behaviour so she stopped asking questions after a while.
The only one he told about everything was David, because his brother had noticed that something was going on. Plus he deserved to know didn’t he, after covering up for him all those years. So on a long training ride Mathieu told him his biggest and best kept secret. “David, you know I asked you to cover up for a few appointments right?” Mathieu started a bit unsure, they had just begun a long training ride and were far from returning back home again. That gave him more than enough time to explain everything. “Are you finally going to tell me what that was about or do I need to lie for you again?” David sounded a bit bitter, but it characterised him that he wasn’t going to ask him anything that Mathieu didn’t want to tell.
“I had a relationship with Wout.” David didn’t really believe him at first and thought he was joking around but then Mathieu told him the full story. From when they first kissed through all their secret kisses and then their meet ups to the last time they got together.
Mathieu really wanted to get across his emotions and how he felt and how Wout had treated him and the love that had been there. Mathieu hadn’t been able to talk about it for years, not even with Wout. So he really needed to get it off his chest. Telling the story like that changed it from just this little flirt and hook up to a love story that had a very important place in Mathieu his life. He also needed David to understand, he needed him to understand so he would know why he did it. He didn’t want his own brother to think he was a bad person, even tough he has made some bad choices.
“You really got yourself in some trouble. Don’t blame Wout for the choice he’s made, he chose for his reality and his future and you have to do that as well." Mathieu just looked at him, he had kind of wished his brother was going to agree with him that he needed to fight to get Wout back, or something along those lines. So David his advice fell into silence. "I'm serious, Mathieu. You have to forget about him, you will move on.”
David was right he had to move on, and he did. Or at least he tried and he was happy. But he can’t seem to forget about what he had with Wout. How could he? They still saw each other every weekend at races. The years went on and he felt as if he wasn’t getting anything out of it. Everyone was going on with their lives, but Mathieu was not. He was still standing in the same place as he was when Wout left him. Still Roxanne at his side, but he hadn’t asked her to marry him yet and kids were far out of shot. He tried you know, he tried being more emotional available. But she was still so suspicious about what had happened that one afternoon, that he didn’t want her to get upset even more. So he went back to how it was before, which wasn’t perfect. So how does he expect for it to be perfect now, if nothing changed. Meanwhile Wout seems to have it all. Maybe Mathieu wasn't as happy as he thought, while Wout really seems to be the a good dad. And from what Mathieu can gather, Wout and Sarah really worked through it.
Sometimes he wonders if he had finally told her. It would’ve been the smartest move for them, all cards on the table. But somewhere Mathieu wishes that he hasn’t, that he has had a part of Wout that no one knows about. That it was still a secret for his wive. That in a weird alternative universum they are still a thing, maybe there’s a universe where they are a couple. But it isn’t like that in this one and he just simply has to accept that. So he finally does try to be the adult that he had supposed to be years ago. He isn’t always going to have it his way, that’s a hard lesson to learn. That went well for a little while.
\--- |
3e03b8656ac44e8382feca32b92b4ef8 | ['435cbf9eb7b6436ca30754cc750b38d3'] | “I gotta showered!” Dirk slurred and let go of Hal, running off to what Hal assumed was the bathroom, taking off his clothes on the way. Hal contemplated continuing to write his own eulogy but decided against it, getting up to follow Dirk. It was in his programming to protect Dirk at all costs and showered while drunk didn’t seem to be a good idea. He stood in the doorway of Dirks bathroom, frowning when he saw the shower already turned on. How fast could Dirk move? “Officer Strider, I don't think its a good idea to shower while in this state. You could slip and fall or-” Hal got cut off by a pair of boxers hitting his face…...
Great.
Perfect.
_ Fine. _
Hal slowly opened his eyes, having closed them after getting shot in the face with undergarments. He stared at Dirk, watching him grab his phone with his least wet hand and started playing music. Chicago, 2002. Rude. Dirk made eye contact with Hal so Hal decided to try his best to convey all of the rage and urges of murder he was feeling into his gaze. Dirk seemed unaffected and pouted.
“Butt face.” Dirk mumbled and huffed, going back to showering
Hal could just leave. Leave Dirk by himself like he so wanted and shut down on his couch. He could just leave. Let Dirk slip and fall. But no. He didn’t want Dirk to slip and fall and break something like a dumbass so Hal forced himself to calm down as he took off his jacket, shoes and socks before walking right up to the shower, hesitating before getting in.
He began helping Dirk clean up mostly because he was worried Dirk would try to eat soap and well.. He wanted to be right there to catch Dirk if he did slip. Also, he knew humans sometimes enjoyed being washed. It was a calming thing. To be able to rely on someone and Dirk looked like he needed to rely on someone that wasn’t himself for once.
Hal washed Dirk up, elbowing him lightly when Dirk smacked his hands away from the ‘wrong shampoo’ or the ‘wrong soap’. Dumb humans and their dumb routines. It was soap. Use it. But Dirk seemed to be a… soap enthusiast. There was multiple bottles of different kinds, different brands, different smells. Hal made a mental checklist of all of them so he could ask why they were so special later. Dirk kept making drunken comments that Hal was ‘naked’ which was just incorrect.
After the shower, Hal dried Dirk off, helped him brush his teeth and even got him dressed in some simple old clothes which was the real struggle. When Hal carried Dirk to bed and tried to drop him onto said bed, Dirk wouldn't budge. How was this drunk human so strong? Hal sighed, knowing prying Dirk off would only lead to yelling and tantrums.
“Officer Strider, let go. You need sleep.” He said, hoping the promise of sleep would please Dirks intoxicated mind.
“Fuck you! No!” Dirk slurred. Apparently Dirks intoxicated mind could not be seduced with the promise of sleep. Curses. Hal sighed.
“Officer Strider.” He said sternly, hoping that would help. What followed nearly made Hal explode
“Only if you pinkie promise to stop calling me Officer Strider… ‘s weird..” Dirk slurred quietly, giving Hal a good squeeze. Hal stiffened up, staring down at the bed sheets. What did that mean? Did Dirk consider their relationship casual enough to start calling going by first names? Was Dirk just making dumb drunk comments? Did Dirk consider them friends..? Dirks nails on his back wasn't helping relax his body but it was helping his mind chill the fuck out. He took a deep breath.
“Fine. D…. Dirk… could you please let go..?” He asked quietly. This wasn’t about Hal and his weird thoughts. This was about Dirk and getting him to sleep. Dirk giggled and let go, flopping onto the bed, ready to be tucked in which Hal did. He gently adjusted Dirk so he would be comfortable and tucked him in, mind quickly searching _ how _ to tuck someone in as he did. Apparently it was just kinda wrapping them in their blanket? Weird but Dirk seemed to enjoy being tucked in. Hal finished tucking Dirk in and was about to walk away to prepare for morning when he was grabbed and yanked into bed, cuddling him. Or what Hal assumed was cuddling.
“Offi- Dirk, this is highly unprofessional, we shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed and I was just about to leave to prepare for your hangover in the morning and… Are you even listening? Dirk? Are you seriously asleep? I’ve gotta..” Hal trailed off, noting that Dirk really was asleep. Completely out. Hal sighed and looked down at him. What did humans enjoy while they slept? Hal ran a good mental google search and.. Head rubs..? Okay.. Hal hesitantly laced his fingers in Dirk’s hair and began rubbing his scalp. Other androids said that humans enjoyed tiny bouts of electricity while receiving a head massage so Hal tried it which got him a little squeeze. He’ll take that as a good sign.
He slowly relaxed, focusing on Dirks vitals. There was something calming about watching the fragile humans stomach rise and fall with every breath. Maybe being a little unprofessional wasn’t so bad.
7. Cold
**Summary for the Chapter:**
> Spoiled kids are still spoiled | f3057cccd5da4ffd81a1507eaab23b55 | ['435cbf9eb7b6436ca30754cc750b38d3'] | Hal barely talked during their walk to the bar which was a blessing but he wasn't sure if Hal was talking and he was too spaced out to notice or if Hal recognized this as 'Dirks Happy Time' and had the morals to not ruin it. Either way, it was nice to get lost in positive thoughts. This was one of the very few moments where Dirk could relax. He knew the place like the back of his hand, it was safe, he could get drunk and not get kidnapped or killed but he wasn't sure if that’s because the place was so safe or because no one would want a drunk asshole on their hands..
Let’s not dwell on that.
Dirk started feeling giddy, already organizing the rest of his routine in his head. He wouldn’t have to go to work tomorrow so he could stay up late without the usual repercussions like accidentally putting ketchup in his coffee because he’s too sleep deprived to actually see anything. That just.. Happened sometimes. Random blindness after not sleeping for 48 hours. Well, not really blindness, but his vision sometimes just… gave out. Everything would go blurry to the point he couldn’t even see shapes or colors very well and his eyes would hurt like crazy. Roxy always got concerned when this happened but he didn’t think it was an indication of anything bad.. Right?
Right.
…. Right?
Whatever, that didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact they had finally arrived at his favorite bar in the entire world and he hasn’t hear a single word out of Hal’s mouth which was a god damn blessing. Dirk didn’t believe in god but this was a fucking metaphysical miracle that Hal was silent for fucking once but holy shit it was worrying. Was Hal mad? Upset? Scared?..... Horny??? What did androids feel? Why was Dirk rambling in his own head? Who fucking knows or cares! Life is meaningless, smoke weed, snort cocaine, do xanax, fuck whoever, love is love, stay in school, eat pray love, etc.
God, he was so happy no one could read his thoughts or else he’d never be taken seriously again. Ever.
As they walked into the bar, Dirk felt himself relax. All the tension just.. Poofed. He stepped a bit closer to Hal, feeling the tension return quickly when others noticed Hal was an android. One person who seemed intoxicated out of their mind stood up, glaring at Hal but the bartender just shot the person a ‘sit down or you won’t have an ass to sit with’ face before smiling at Dirk.
“Mr. Strider, its always good to see you.” The bartender spoke just above a whisper. The bartenders name was Equius, a fact Dirk had learned long ago. Equius was always so nice to him, always quiet and respectful. But Equius wasn’t supposed to even have a bartending license due to the fact he was, well, barely 17…
But the kid needed the money. Desperately. He had caught Equius a while back with some seriously heavy drugs on him and a fuck ton of it. Turns out, Equius was technically part of a gang. Kinda. They mostly made him carry drugs, occasionally bodyguard and run errands. His “friend” who’s name remains unknown to Dirk was the one who manipulated poor Equius into joining the gang. Dirk was always surprised they never had Equius beat the shit out of people due to the fact Equius was an absolute fucking unit. He was bigger than _ Hal _ for godsake.
Equius had the body of a fucking tank. He was pretty sure this kid could just rip him apart if he wanted to. His shoulders were wide, his muscular arms looked like they were about to straight up explode the sleeves on the dumb shirt they made him wear. His chest looked strained, like he was desperately trying to keep the buttons from popping off and jesus, if they did Dirk would either cry or leave out of sheer fear. This kid had a good whole ass 11 inches on him. Dirk was exactly 6’0” and here Equius was… 6’11 and 240 pounds... Like the dickwad he was.
Surprisingly, Dirk liked Equius despite the fact Equius could literally break him in half. The kid was honest but loyal to his friends. Dirk kept his nose out of Equius’ business and Equius would keep his friends out of Dirks cases. It was a good compromise and Equius always made sure his friend never went anywhere near Dirk. But one time, Dirk couldn't turn the other cheek. Nepeta Leijon had nearly killed a man due to… some reason. Dirk couldn't remember. What he did remember was Equius walked in, sweating bullets, wearing a tank top and jeans. Both looked uncomfortable and too small. He remembered watching how uncomfortable the poor kid looked as he went over to Dirks desk and asked, as quietly as possible, if he could help him handle this situation.
Dirk could never say no to that teary eyed giant of a man. Honestly, Dirk was sure that if he ever did say no to Equius both of them would cry. Dirk never really remembered much about their meetings outside of the bar but one thing he always noticed was how gentle Equius was with everything, especially people. He remembered, very vividly, the times Equius had to hold someone back and no matter how fucking hard they struggled, Equius could hold them back with ease like they were just a rowdy infant. It was so fucking funny and weird at the same time. Dirk loved the irony of all of it.
Well, back to present times, Hal gave Dirk a confused look which Equius mirrored. Hal looked ready to arrest Equius and Equius looked confused at the fact Dirk would share this place with someone other than Roxy. Dirk walked over to the bar and sat down, giving Equius a tiny smile. |
a07dbd2ebb6c4c98982e3842aa2f8f1c | ['4362a91467c148dc9ca4ce035d766894'] | I grab my denim jacket and put my phone and wallet in my pocket and avoid looking in any mirrors on my way out, as I know I’ll probably look closer to a mental breakdown than I’m keen on.
I hurry down the five flights of stairs, which is really five flights to much for me, but stop dead in my tracks as I see Rosa’s figure outside the doors. The glass is stained, but not so much that I can’t see her leaning against the building, and I feel like running up the stairs again and hide. For ever.
I swear, I’m never like this.
But, as the badass, fearless cop I have to remind myself I am, I straighten up, and walk out the door.
And there she is.
And here I am.
Oh God.
She’s so beautiful.
Her hair is just as curly and beautiful as always, but her eyeliner is not as hard as it usually is at work, and she’s wearing red lipstick and a black dress under her leather jacket.
I’m going to die before this night is over.
She look up at me, and to my utter joy, a small smile light up her face.
“Hey.” She says simply and looks at me for a second. “You look nice.”
I bite my lower lip and smile at the same time, probably not-so-hot, and stutter out a that she looks nice too.
Yeah, understatement of the year.
“The restaurant we’re going to is just a five minute walk away, are you okay walking?” she asks, and I nod quickly.
“Yeah, of course. I don’t mind, I walk all the time.” I say, trying to sound casual.
She smiles again, but doesn’t comment on me letting my stupid show for a bit. Thank God.
As we walk, she asks me about my apartment, and from that the conversation goes surprisingly easy from there, and suddenly we’re at the restaurant, and I’m a bit surprised when I see that it’s a small, italian place, and actually one of my favorite places in Brooklyn.
As we sit down at our table, I feel a new wave of panic as I find myself with no idea what to say.
“Y/N?”
Rosa’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I look at her sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask.
“I asked if you’ve been here before.” She says in her blunt way.
I nod, and as the conversation starts flowing again, I feel myself starting to relax. The dinner goes by in a blink, and as we’re starting to finish up, and I was in a strange place where I felt like we’d talked and gotten to know each other, but at the same time I couldn’t really name some hard facts I’ve learned about Rosa.
She sure knows her way around a conversation.
When we get the check, she grabs it without hesitation, and when I try to say something, she just looks at me with that “Rosa-look” and shakes her head.
“I asked you out. It’s simple.” She says, and I feel a small rush of happiness as she kind of confirms that this is indeed a date.
Rosa then get’s up, and I do the same, and as we walk outside I’m prepared to thank her for tonight, but before I can do that, she starts walking again, and I’m left with no other choice than to follow her.
“Where…” I begin to ask, but she stops me before I can finish.
“Oh, a movie theater close by is doing a showing of the first Scream movie tonight. Gina mentioned that you love those movies, and I quote, “more than any sane person possibly could”, and I never saw them, so I thought it would be a cool thing to do.” she says, and for the first time that night, she actually seems a bit nervous.
I grin at hearing Gina’s comment, before I turn to look at Rosa with shock.
“Wait, you’ve never seen any of the Scream movies?!” I ask as I feel my eyes widen.
She shrugs, and I just keep staring at her, so she rolls her eyes but smiles a bit.
“I don’t have a real answer to why, sorry.” She says, and I sigh.
“Thank God we’re going tonight then.” I say and smile happily.
She looks at me like she want’s to say something else, but then she just keeps walking, and I sigh to myself.
This woman is going to kill me with her mysterious ways.
When we arrive at the movie theater my eyes once again widen. It’s small, but it looks really old and classy, and I feel like a little kid again.
“This place is awesome…” I mumble as we walk into the lobby and I look around.
“Yeah, I know.” Rosa says. “It’s where I usually go to watch older movies by myself.”
“And still, you’ve never seen Scream.” I say with a small smirk, and she laughs a bit.
God, I love her laughter.
As we find our seats (she paid again and I’m melting), I’m getting more and more exited, as I never saw Scream at the movies as a kid, and when we sit down and Rosa _puts her arm around me_ , I’m thinking that it’ll be a miracle if I even managed to watch the movie at all.
Not that I’m complaining.
3. Chapter 3
They say time flies when you’re having fun, but no one seems to be talking about how weird times moves when you’re falling in love.
At first, it feels like everything stops. Nothing ever happens, it’s just you and your stupid feelings. When this part is going on, it feels like it’s going to last forever. | bc64b2b7468c4481907e46dbd1986d29 | ['4362a91467c148dc9ca4ce035d766894'] | But then, of course, it doesn’t. Because then, at least for me, things started to happen. At first, it’s a date. Then, there’s two, or maybe even three. That’s when I started to feel like I lost all sense of time. I was on cloud fucking nine, and nothing else seemed to matter, and I seriously have no clue how I even managed to do my job, eat, sleep, shower and so on during this time.
I must have managed somehow though, because I’m still here, at the 99th precinct in Brooklyn, sitting at my desk, doing my job. Luckily, I was good enough at my job that I managed to do it on autopilot, because now I had hit stage three, and it was critical.
After the mindless bliss of stage two, this hit me like a wall of… well, not bricks, but maybe like a shitload of boxing peanuts? I didn’t hurt, because nothing was wrong, but it was a small reality check.
After the first date, Rosa and I decided to keep things to ourselves for a while. She was a very private person after all, and she wasn’t out to family or friends as bi yet, so for her it was a rather big deal to share this. And I got that, I was actually kind of relived.
I really like this job, and the people here, I even feel like most of these people respect me right now. So, I think sharing my love life, at least when dating a co-worker, would be a good way to ruin that.
That was working out fine, at least I thought so, but to be honest I still didn’t feel like I could read Rosa and what she was thinking and feeling that well. I thought she was happy with keeping things on the low for know, but lately she’s been acting… strange.
Even for her.
Since our first date, which is now almost three months ago (!!), we usually hang out at my apartment after work a couple times a week, and try to set of either Friday or Saturday night for a more traditional date nights.
Traditional isn’t really the right word for us though, but at least we try to go out, sometimes to restaurants, some times to pubs or diners, and then either catch a movie or a basketball game. It was nice. Perfect, even. We were happy.
Or at least, so I thought.
This last week, Rosa had been acting different. At least when we’re at work. Just yesterday, during a serious murder briefing may I add, she first nearly shoved poor Charles through the wall when he made an attempt to sit next to me, before muttering some lame excuse that she needed my help after the meeting.
Also, when poor Amy asked me if I was interested in going on a date with this girl from her pottery making class, Rosa shattered a glass with her bare hands, ending up going to the emergency room to get stitches.
If I didn’t know better I would say she was… jealous.
But that’s crazy, Rosa’s not the jealous type.
I think?
I raise my eyes from my computer screen to look over at her, just to see her doing the same thing, and I smile carefully, and feel a rush of relief when she did the same.
I quickly grab my phone and send her a text.
_Me: Takeout from Joe’s and Black Mirror at my place after work? x_
_Rosa: Sounds good._
I send her one more look over my computer to see her reaction, but she’s talking to Jake, or at least rolling her eyes at him, so I just have to be happy with the text response.
_**Later the same day, at my apartment** _
It’s just 8 P.M. and I’m already getting tired. I can tell Rosa’s not though, as her eyes are fixated at the screen on my TV, a small smirk on her face.
I’m sitting curled up next to her, with my head on her shoulder, and I’m working on finding the courage to ask her what I know I need to ask her. But I still get so freaking nervous when I comes to talking seriously with Rosa, and she looks so happy and relaxed right now…
30 minutes later, and a about halfway trough “Hang The DJ”, she reaches out for the remote and pauses the episode, and sits up straighter, forcing me to do the same.
“Okay, I can tell you’re not even watching right now, and that’s a shame because this is a kick-ass episode. What’s up?” she asks, while looking me right in the eye.
I avert my eyes down to my lap and fidget a bit with my hands, while thinking about what to say.
“Uhm, yeah.” I start, before taking a deep breath. “Is there something bothering you at work?” I ask carefully, tilting my head a bit.
Rosa raises an eyebrow, and looks at me funny.
“Why would you think that?” she asks.
“Well, for a start…” I say, and gesture towards her bandaged hand, “you did shatter a glass with your hand the other day?”
She huffs.
“That’s not about work.” She says simply and cross her arms across her chest.
I sigh.
“Well, what is it about, then?” I ask, looking her straight in the eyes. “Is it me? Don’t you want to do this anymore?”
I try to keep my voice steady and cool like hers, but fail miserably.
Her eyes actually widen a bit, and to my surprise she takes my hands in hers, and squeezes.
“No, it’s not you!” she says quickly. “…or, it’s about you I guess, but it’s not your fault. I just… I have a hard time expressing my feelings I guess, and then things like that happens…”
She trails off.
“Glasses explode in your hands?” I ask with a small smile. |
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